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“My lady!”
Was that Lucinda? She sounded, gods, she sounded terrified! Something was wrong.
“What’s happening?” I asked, but the words came out garbled. My throat was sore, as if I had been screaming. Had I been?
Demos’ arm around me loosened, and I almost dropped from his hold, before the world titled as he lifted me into his arms, carrying me. We were moving fast now.
I tried again, “What—”
“We have to leave.” His breaths were coming sharp and fast as we sped through the snow.
Then I heard a terrible scream, a sound I knew deep within me I’d never forget. It was quickly drowned out by angry snarls. Voices were calling Demos’ name from far away, but either Demos wasn’t paying attention, or he was simply ignoring them.
My head felt funny—airy, floaty. I pressed my face into Demos’ neck again, seeking his scent. My eyes rolled back into my head, and my sex clenched in pleasure, releasing another flood of liquid between my thighs. I squirmed in his grasp and let out a frustrated whimper.
It felt like we were flying now. The sound of the storm was muted, and it was darker. We must be deep in the woods, I thought. But weren’t we just in a cave? Thoughts flitted in and out, trading places over and over again with the need, the intense wanting, to get closer to Demos, to be inside his being, to consume him.
My lips moved against the soft skin, right where a small space between tendon and collar bone formed a hollow valley, perfectly shaped to fit my mouth. I sucked, pulling the taut skin, my mouth tasting him. He groaned again.
“Sierra, stop,” he growled, but the sound held desperation instead of admonishment. I smiled, feeling like a naughty cat.
“I need more,” I tried to tell him. “Stop running, for the gods’ sake.” With the flat of my tongue, I licked him, drinking in that delicious scent.
To my surprise, we did stop.
“Release her. Now,” a deep voice commanded.
I recognized that voice; it sat in my memory, but I didn’t care to trace its owner. Instead, I pressed closer to Demos, frustrated that I couldn’t get close enough. I felt like climbing him, as if he were a tree. A giggle escaped my lips right as I felt a terrible pinch between my shoulder and neck. Before I could say “ouch,” darkness swept me away.
Chapter 15
Fadon
The scent had traveled like a ribbon of temptation, entering the cave, teasing the sensitive glands of every Ongahri alpha. It had only taken seconds for Fadon to know what that scent signified, and by that time it was far too late.
A chorus of growls sang throughout the cave, and Fadon, reigning in the desire to take, met Jon’s dilated eyes.
“Impossible,” his Second whispered.
Fadon eyed his men, some of whom were standing, ready to make a run for it, to locate the owner of that scent and capture her. His heartbeat drummed fast inside his chest. He knew he’d only get one chance to keep this situation under control, otherwise bloodshed would ensue, or worse.
Quickly, he ran through every scenario, every consequence of every probable action. First, he would need to block the exit. He knew by now that the girl was outside. A look around the room confirmed that the Servant must be with her. Her watcher was currently pressed up against the wall, in the back, her eyes wide with fear.
“Men, listen to me. Listen!” he shouted over their growls.
A few looked at him in confusion. The others ignored him. Their movements were sluggish, as if drunk. Which they are, but not on alcohol, Fadon thought darkly. A monumental event in the Ongahri’s long history was taking place. Their bodies knew exactly what was happening, but their minds hadn’t a clue.
But Jon knew. Fadon knew. He had hoped for this very thing, a miracle, just weeks ago. And now it had happened. Was happening. In the most horrible circumstances ever. Isolated in a small space. Away from home, from aid, and with a possible mountain of snow threatening to trap them here for days.
He stood slowly, motioning to Jon but not taking his eyes off his men. He backed up, hoping Jon saw his signal, and made his way toward the exit. He planned to block it off, all the while assessing each warrior for any sign of cognizance. He and Jon would not be able to fend everyone off alone. They’d need help.
His plan didn’t work. The first man to come at Fadon barreled into him in a flash.
“Jon! Don’t let anyone out!” Fadon shouted.
The man who held him in a chokehold was Young Mallis. The scent had already triggered the rut in the young warrior. A spectacular synergy was taking place before Fadon’s very eyes—a steady release of raw power, inexhaustible energy, all bodily systems revving up for one goal: to capture the owner of that tantalizing scent.
Addressing the boy did nothing. Fadon finally got his knee in position and raised it forcefully into Young Mallis’ crotch. The contact worked, giving Fadon a moment to push the Ongahri away from him. Now standing, Fadon saw Jon tackling Varia to the ground.
