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High up in the foggy canopy above me, a pair of brilliant, glowing blue eyes ignites in the darkness.
Run! Instinct tells me to run; a monster has me cornered. But the second those familiar blue eyes lock onto mine, a strange wave of calm washes over me.
Safe. Safe. Safe.
The thought hits me out of nowhere, cutting straight through the panic. Despite the freezing rain, despite the men hunting me, despite the sheer danger of standing alone in the dark woods with a cryptid, I feel… protected. It makes no fucking sense, and yet it’s there. The shadows have kept me within Vesper’s borders, shielding me from Gregory and his men.
Yet, even as that safety settles in my chest, a second, darker sensation slams into my blood.
Fear. Sharp, trembling, delicious fear.
The adrenaline from running for my life doesn’t fade; it twists. It pools low, igniting a hot wave of arousal. My nipples pebble hard beneath my wool sweater. My cock throbs. The terror of being hunted, of being cornered by a lethal predator in the dark, hits every depraved, twisted thought I possess.
I am completely, shamelessly turned on.
And then, cutting through the blue glow in the canopy, a second pair of eyes flares to life directly beneath it.
Intense, burning crimson.
Vesper.
He stands on a high branch, draped in the dark wolf pelt. Glowing blue eyes are woven into the hood of the pelt, framing his striking blue skin, sharp cheekbones, and sweeping horns. His crimson eyes burn through the dark, locked onto me with a ravenous, possessive fury that makes my knees go weak.
A slow, wicked smile touches his lips.
That’s when it hits me: he didn’t just watch me run. He let me bolt into his woods. He let me feel the terror of the hunt.
“You wanted to run, little bird.” Vesper’s voice echoes directly inside my mind. His voice is smooth and predatory, dripping with dark amusement. “Go on, then. Run. The cryptid and I crave the chase.”
The shadows on the forest floor come to life, writhing higher.
Writhing toward me.
A deep, guttural growl vibrates through my bones. Down in the brush, the ghostly form of the Devil Dog breaks cover, its black shadow-fur rippling like smoke as it charges toward me.
I gasp, a wild, breathless laugh tearing past my lips. The terror of seeing Gregory’s men morphs into something else. Something addictive.
Fear and heat crash together inside my blood like a tidal wave. I turn on my heel and bolt deeper into the dark forest, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm as the hunt begins.
Chapter ten
Vesper
The moment Bellamy breaks cover and bolts into the timber, the air changes. It shifts and morphs into something else entirely.
The dark canopy swallows him whole, wrapping his small, desperate frame in gray fog and wet pine. But he can’t hide from me. Not here. Not in the heart of my territory, where every tree and curling shadow answers to my command.
I drop from the branch, landing soundlessly on the damp earth. Beside me, the Devil Dog materializes out of the dark, its huge ethereal form rippling like liquid obsidian. The soul link connecting us vibrates with a manic pulse. Like a feral demand that rattles the base of my skull. The beast doesn’t reason with complex strategies or human thought. It operates on primal need alone. Its infernal nature is fueled entirely by the intoxicating thrill of the hunt.
Run, the beast chants through our shared consciousness. Run, catch, take. Mine.
I melt into the trunks of the ancient trees, sliding through shadows and reappearing fifty yards ahead, moving with a terrifying, supernatural speed. Despite my hunger, I don’t snatch him out of the air. Not yet. Catching him instantly would end this wicked, delicious game. I want him to feel the animalistic thrill of the shadows pressing against his back. I want his muscles to burn, and his pulse to race higher and higher as his body registers the electrifying truth: he’s being pursued by both a demon and his hound.
And then, the wind turns.
The scent hits my senses like a physical strike of lightning to the chest.
Beneath the sharp bite of icy rain, fresh pine, and sea salt is an unmistakable scent that saturates the night air.
