Page 16 of Revealing Fate

Kal smiled, lips kicking up at one corner, teasing a dimple out of his cheek. She stared. The last time he had been this close, he’d kissed her, awakening a roaring fire inside Felíne that refused to be stamped out. It had slowly been burning her alive ever since, and she worried it was only a matter of time before she was wholly consumed. And then what?

She’d be done for. And her purpose? Incinerated.

“Why not?”

“Never mind,” she grumbled. “It’s got nothing to do with you anyway.”

Why did he have to smell so good? Kal’s chest rumbled with a laugh, and the vibration against her own body sent gooseflesh down her arms. She should insist that he put her down. Sig was close enough.

“That’s unfortunate,” Kal said. “Would you like to know what I’m thinking about?”

Felíne’s eyes flared, and her heart stuttered. Kal’s mouth was inches from her own. Her lips parted slightly on an intake of air, and his breath filled her lungs. “I…”

Kal was everywhere. His body held hers. His scent saturated her air. He was so close she could practically taste him. It was torture. Sweet, terrible torture.

“Kal…”

“Breathe, Kitty.”

She was breathing. That was the problem. Every minty inhale was laced with the essence of Kalevar Kaine. She was being drugged all over again. And Felíne was certain that no amount of belohna would cure her. No, the only cure was…

Kal’s gaze dipped, and his head lowered infinitesimally.

Yes! Yes, this was what she needed!

She could have groaned with how desperately she wanted him to close the bit of distance that remained between them.

A faint whistling disturbed the peaceful forest.

Kal registered the noise a moment before his body jerked.

How he didn’t drop her, Felíne had no idea. Because there, an inch away from where her hand still rested over the breast pocket of his shirt, the shaft of an arrow quivered, protruding from Kal’s chest.

Chapter 5

FRACTURED

FELÍNE SCREAMED. THE SOUND THAT emerged from Kalevar’s throat was half curse, half growl. He spun, shielding Felíne from their hidden assailant, and set her on her feet behind the protective girth of an oak.

She trembled. “Kal. You’re hurt.”

Felíne reached up a hand toward the arrow shaft that was lodged in the leather of his vest, but Kal was quicker. He fisted the arrow with one hand and jerked it free, grunting.

“Goddess above, you idiot! You could bleed out!” Felíne cried as she shoved her palm against the wound.

Kal’s focus was elsewhere. “It hit a rib. The head wasn’t buried deep enough to damage. Stay here.”

Before she could protest, he disappeared. Felíne glanced down at her shaking hand, slickened with Kal’s blood. If he got himself killed, she would never forgive him.

The wood went eerily silent. The only sound was the sighing of the breeze through the boughs’ rustling leaves. Her harried breathing was overloud. She strained, wishing, not for the first time, that she had the heightened senses of a second form to tell her about her surroundings.

Come on, Kal. Where are you?

A few tense minutes later, she heard a scuffle, followed by a yelp too high-pitched to be Kal’s.

Felíne risked a peek behind the trunk of the tree. There, across from the clearing where they’d initially settled, Kal emerged from the brush, dragging something big behind him. Something big and squirming.

“I’m sorry! Shit, ow. Shit!”