The male was grunting to himself as he scanned the ground, his face twisted into a scowl, a glowing spear held tight in his grip.
Two good-sized tusks jutted from his lower lip.
While Nayla’s fangs were tiny and damn close to adorable, protruding from the top of her mouth and only visible when she snarled, this guy’s lower chompers looked like they could tear the skin from a body as easily as a Tigos.
An angry bark issued from the male. He pounded forward. Grif didn’t have to be a mind reader to guess what had prompted the male’s reaction. He’d found the pit. The guy moved so fast and silently, it was almost as if he were floating over the ground rather than walking on it.
Another low growl. The male was on the move once more. Grif followed as best he could, sliding along on his stomach as his target moved from the pit to where Grif had captured and roped his prey.
The male’s upper fangs flashed as bursts of red and orange rippled across his skin.
Grif was suddenly pleased he’d taken the time to wipe away all traces of his route from here on out. He’d was also thankful he’d done such a good job erasing Sharluff’s tracks.
Undeterred, the rescue party of one surveyed the area, his gaze intent.
The guy’s persistence pissed Grif off, and pleased him, too. The former because he didn’t want anyone honing in on his captive. The latter because, in some sick way, he was glad there was someone out there who cared enough to look for Nayla.
Even if Grif was going to make sure she wasn’t found until he was ready to give her up.
A series of low frustrated grunts erupted from the male as he swept the area in wider, erratic circles, his movements more frustrated with every pass.
The pack male had lost the trail. Just as Grif had intended.
The next time the male circled past, he came close enough to Grif’s overlook that he could easily make out the golden symbols on the pack hunter’s skin, far more numerous than his captive’s, as well as deep lines etched in evenly spaced patterns down his arms and thighs, far too precise to be anything but purposeful scars.
As near as the male was, it would have been easy to leap out and engage in one fell swoop.
Grif forced himself to stay right where he was.
With Nayla chained and vulnerable, engagement was too great a risk. Especially when the bastard was the one with the glowing spear.
He just hoped the fucker didn’t stay too long.
13
“Wake up.”
Nayla woke with a start, the sensation of intense green eyes boring into her enough to have her springing upward—only to be shocked she could. Her wrists were roped together, but her arms and ankles were free from the manacles.
When she’d decided to rest her eyes, she’d been alone in the cave, lying on her side under a blanket, one wrist and one ankle chained to the restraints.
She’d dreamed of green predatory eyes and terrible, beautiful pleasure.
Before he’d left, her captor—Grif, it was strange to know his name—had allowed her to release her bladder in a small cave with a trickle of running water through its floor, but he’d watched the whole time, his gaze hard and alert. There’d been no chance for escape. After she was done, he’d taken her back to the blanket, fed her a chalky square of unidentified nutrients that tasted better than it looked, and ordered her to rest.
Then, he’d grabbed his harness of weapons and left. She feared he was going to hunt Sharluff. Terrified, she’d fought her chains until she wore herself out. After that, she’d been too exhausted and sore to do anything but follow his command.
Sometime since, the Other had returned, undone her restraints, roped her wrists, and covered her with a blanket, and she’d slept through it all.
Now, he sat across the cave from her, on a chair of bone and hide sturdy enough even for someone as large as him. His jaw was tight, his mood even edgier than when he’d left, his stare locked on her.
The scent of cooking meat wafted through the cave, thanks to the skewers of dalte roasting over the fire.
She forced herself to ask. “Sh-Sharluff?”
Something soft flickered in his gaze, but it was gone in the next instant. “No sightings of that creature.”
His phrasing was strange, but relief slammed through her nonetheless. Her loyal friend was still alive.
“Come.” He summoned her to him with the crook of a finger. In his other hand, he held up a fingerful of cooked meat. “Leave the blanket.”
Her stomach growled. The urge to flee and simultaneously leap forward and rip the meat from his hand hit all at once.
Her hand gripped the blanket tighter.
“I won’t ask again.”
Stiffening her spine, she rose and glided toward him.
She eyed the restraints as she passed them. The chains that had held her wrists hung loose and still, the manacles ready to be closed around her limbs the moment her captor determined it was time to demand more information.
She was at his mercy. Subject to his whim. At the thought, the shameful heat between her thighs flared higher.
She stopped just in front of him, her thighs less than a finger’s length from his knees, her bound wrists pressed tight to her breasts. The delicious smell of cooked meat filled her lungs—along with the exotic aroma of the male himself.
Before, the scent of him had been alien and frightening, now it brought to mind mindless pleasure and rough, commanding touches.
Something had changed between them since she’d admitted what she was, she just wasn’t sure yet how.
He sprawled in the chair, legs spread and jutting out, taking up space, his position relaxed, though the look in his stare was anything but.
His chest remained bare, but he’d taken the time to wrap a dry cloth around his waist. It hung low on his hips, making it impossible to miss the slabs of muscle that crisscrossed his stomach or the hair that covered the expanse of his massive chest and thighs.
Her heart beat faster.
Even sitting, he was still so big his eyes were even with hers, his shoulders three times the size of her own.
Despite herself, her trembling increased, as did the fire between her legs, a never-ending torment.
She didn’t understand why. She didn’t understand this strange pull toward a male she should hate.
“It’s not just you.” His words were low and intent, his stare boring into her as if he’d once again read her mind.
She sucked down a sharp breath.
“There’s something between us. Won’t matter in the end. I’ll do my job, but there’s no point in pretending it isn’t there. Complicating things.”
Everything inside her stilled. “W-what is it?”
“Lust.” He shrugged as if it didn’t matter. To her it felt like everything. “Honesty. A connection. Few people get to be so real with each other. Our sessions leave you exposed, but you’re not the only one.”
“I-I no understand.”
“I’m coming to see the real you. Your strengths, your vulnerabilities, your desires. But you see me as well. My teammates call me the Boy Scout. Charming, even.” He shifted, the corded muscles in his chest flexing as he sat taller, his dark emerald gaze boring into her. “You could tell them different. You could tell them who I really am and how far I’m willing to go to get what I want.”