She’d been born and raised to fight Loreans. While her parents had lived, she hadn’t heeded the call as she should have, but after they’d died, she’d made up for lost time, working without cease.
She was proud of the power she’d garnered in the circus and proud of the existence she’d carved out for herself. Yet this Lykae had unilaterally decided to destroy it. She was sick of immortals steering the course of her life, forever taking.
Want to plan for the future? Don’t count on living long enough to enjoy it.
Contemplating a family? Too dangerous in the midst of the Night War. Jacob had agreed to use contraception because she would rather not have children than risk them to an immortal attack.
Forever taking, taking, taking. And now this monster planned to take more than she could ever stand to lose.
Everything.
The forest grew thicker, a dense canopy of stone pine. The wolf transferred her to one arm, then used the claws of his free hand to slash at the brush, felling saplings. When a branch caught her dress, he clawed the skirt away.
“No, stop!” She pummeled his chest.
Ignoring her, he removed a length of white silk, tossing it aside.
“You bastard! This was my mother’s wedding dress.” Her legs were now bare from the thighs down.
“I’m sorry for it, lass.” He actually sounded sincere. Then his rapt attention dipped to the leather holster around her right thigh. “Those legs of yours were nearly the death of me.”
His low words heated her cheeks. Remembering herself, she snapped, “My legs are good for more than your enjoyment. In fact, I can walk with them if you’d cease carting me around!”
He dragged his gaze away with a muttered curse, then continued forward. “Almost there.” His calloused palm rubbed against her bared thigh, his touch as hot as a blue flame in the night air.
She heard a waterfall in the distance. Soon they came upon a towering cascade that pooled into a natural basin. When he continued toward it, she said, “The force of the water will be pounding, the temperature freezing.”
“I expect even a mortal like you will survive. And mayhap a dip will cool your pique.”
She’d just worked up a scathing retort when he leapt in. He lifted her above the surface as he swam, but there was no avoiding the falls.
As he moved them through the curtain of water, she sputtered from the shock of cold. “Y-you muleheaded brute!”
Behind the water was utter blackness. She could see nothing in that echoing expanse. With an embarrassing tremor in her voice, she said, “We’re in a cave?”
“Aye. A larger one than I’d expected.”
She muttered, “Grozav.” Lovely. Over all of her years fighting Loreans, this experience was new. I’m trapped in the dark with a monster—who’s waited his entire existence to mate with me.
EIGHT
“I can’t see,” Kereny said. “I don’t want to be here.” A shudder raced through her body that had nothing to do with the cold. How strange abruptly losing one’s sight must feel, Munro realized. She couldn’t be more vulnerable.
He had told her that he avoided mortals, and that was true, but for a short time in his endless life, he’d had a mortal son. Tàmhas.
The learning curve of caring for a youngling of another species had been steep. He remembered tucking in his toddler on the first spring night that they’d needed no fire. Unable to see in the dark, Tàmhas had lisped, “Dada! Ith scary!”
Mortals hated the dark as much as immortals reveled in it. Even now his mate’s widened eyes were unblinking.
Though still furious over her attempt on his life—did their matehood bond register with her at all?—his sympathy arose. “I’ll get a fire going.” Some previous flood had left a tangle of branches and logs inside the cave, and the cavern’s soaring ceiling would trap any smoke. He released her, steadying her on her feet. “For now, stand right where you are.”
When he moved away, her heart thundered, a staccato beat in Munro’s sensitive ears. “I will no’ let anything hurt you. No need to be afraid . . .” He trailed off at the sight of her. The wet silk of her shortened gown clung to her every curve, and her provocative leather holster hugged one shapely thigh.
He felt like a monster for what he wanted to do to her. Ruck her dress to her waist. Unfasten that holster. Nuzzle the tender skin there as he settled between her soft thighs. Lick her sweet cunny till she screamed for him.
He palmed his erection, adjusting himself. Once she was sopping, he’d wedge his shaft deep into her core, claiming her forever. . . .
But he couldn’t claim her. Not until she craved him as he did her, and not until he’d made her undying. A Lykae mating could kill a human.
Her widened eyes had narrowed. Her hand dipped to her holster as if from muscle memory, then she bit out a curse at the reminder that she was bladeless. “Fantastic. A monster leering at me in a pitch-dark cave. I can feel your perverse gaze on me.”
“Wet silk. Comely curves. I’m no’ a eunuch.”
“Yet,” she bit out. “Just hurry and be about it.”
Harridan. He began collecting wood.
“I’ve looked forward to this wedding for months,” she said. “Trust a Lorean to attack right when you least expect it. Your stock in trade.”
“Attack? Again, I’m trying to save your life.” He dropped an armful of logs onto the ground in the center of the cave. “The Lorean you were about to behead has never hurt a mortal in his life.”
As soon as he spoke the words, he realized they were no longer true. He flinched to recall human flesh beneath his fangs and hot blood splashing down his throat. Suddenly he was back in his cell as the warlocks shoved a prisoner inside, a young male wearing a T-shirt that read: World’s Best Papa.
When the chained human had stumbled to his knees, Ormlo had ordered Munro, “Bite this one hard.”
Like a puppet on a string, Munro had snatched up the man, choking on the scent of his fear.
“I-I have a family, a baby girl. Please, sir, don’t kill me,” the young father had begged. “She’s everything to us. Th-they need me. Please, mister, no!”
The pitiless warlock had commanded Munro to be a good dog.
Gods help me, I was.
After centuries of free will and unequaled power, a proud warrior like Munro had been no more than a plaything to those magic-infested fucks. He shuddered with revulsion. Never again.
“What’s taking so long?” Kereny wrung out her hair and what remained of her dress.