by Renee George
Thadeus nodded curtly. “Yes, Domiscin.”
When Keir passed his third on the way out, he smirked and quietly said, “He gave us his name easily, which means it won’t take long to break him.”
Thadeus grinned. “Soon, the rat in our midst will find out what it’s like to be hunted by wolves.”
“Very soon,” Keir agreed.
Outside the prisoner’s tent, Toland waited for Keir. “You should stay as far from the woman as you can tonight, Domiscin.”
The use of his formal title meant it was a topic Toland didn’t want to discuss but felt he must. Keir squinted toward the woods. Nothing moved but the wind rattling leaves. He regretted telling Toland about his feelings for Emma. “I can’t help how my body reacts to her, Tol. You should know that better than most. There were many unhappy with your choice.”
“I haven’t officially mated, yet,” Toland said.
“If you say so.” He knew his friends mating was complete, even if he hadn’t claimed Lis in a formal ceremony.
Toland sighed. “What did the female say when you asked her to be your mate?”
“She said something about me being crazy.” He shook his head and grinned ruefully. “She’s not wrong. What I feel for her doesn’t feel normal or sane. It is a burning need that I can’t shake. A desire to possess her, to claim her, so strong, I would tear down everything I’ve built to be with her.”
“You may get your wish.” He gestured toward a tall brunette, strikingly beautiful and fierce. She stalked toward them with Mika on her tail. “Here comes Jaylinn.”
Keir groaned but put on his alpha face when she approached them.
“You brought a prisoner into our camp.”
It was a statement, not a question, so Keir remained silent.
Jaylinn crossed her arms. “Why didn’t you take her to the holding pen?”
“The prisoner is in the holding pen.”
“You know I’m speaking of the woman,” Jaylinn huffed.
“She’s not a prisoner,” Toland said, rising to Keir’s defense.
The proud wolfkind female glared at him, but Toland didn’t back down from the challenge, and after a few seconds Jaylinn averted her gaze. “She’s not one of us. Mika told me.” He jerked her thumb at the warrior woman beside her. Mika looked uncomfortable and embarrassed.
“Who is domiscin?” Keir asked.
“You are,” Jaylinn said.
“That’s right, and I won’t be interrogated by you. You are not domiscina.”
“Not yet.”
Not ever, Keir thought. He wanted Emma to fill that role. “You have my permission to withdraw.” Jaylinn had been chasing him since before their becoming. His parents and hers had made grand plans for a mating between the two of them, but his parents had been killed before they could force their plan. In Jaylinn’s eyes, he had made her a promise. But the bargain hadn’t been struck with his permission, and with the creators of the deal deceased, he felt no compunction to follow through.
Jaylinn turned on her heel. The dust around her feet kicked up as she stomped off toward her parent’s home.
“Jaylinn will make trouble, Keir,” Mika said.
“Then why did you tell her?”
Mika blanched. “I didn’t think—”
“No, you didn’t think.”
“Forgive me, Domiscin.”
Toland put his hand on Keir’s forearm, throwing cold water on the building rage. He shook his head. “You are dismissed, Mika.”
“You have it bad, my friend,” Toland said after Mika hurried away from them. “I remember the first days of my choosing.”
Keir rolled his eyes. “We all remember your and Lis’s first days.”
Toland held up his hand to stop further harassment. “Just…take it easy. You will be on edge, and you will feel emotions you’d rather not for a few days. It will make you unpleasant at best. You won’t be fit for man or beast at your worst.”
“I appreciate your support,” Keir said, a dismissal implied.
The right side of Toland’s mouth quirked up. “Duly noted.” With a slight wave, he strolled toward his own quarters.
The night breeze carried the scent of pine, heavily fragrant in these late days of summer. Keir stood at the northern end of the camp, about fifty feet away from his quarters, and contemplated how to proceed with Emma Watson. Even at this distance, he felt acutely aware of her presence. He could actually feel her as if she occupied a space inside his body. How could he be so affected by a stranger, someone who was neither wolfkind nor witch?
Renewed with determination, he crossed the distance between him and the woman who made his blood burn. He flung open the door, his passion causing him to momentarily lose control of his beast as he prepared himself to convince Emma, however long it might take, to stay with him.
He stopped short in the middle of the room. The bed was empty, the back canvas had been sliced open, and Emma was gone. Immediately, he dropped to his hands and knees, his wolfkind side, morphing the bones in his face, his arms, and his legs. Fur sprouted across his skin, making his leather vest almost too warm. His nose, now hypersensitive to the hundreds of smells around him, honed in on the only scent that mattered. Hers.
With one bounding leap, he jumped through the sliced wall and began tracking his mate.
Chapter Five
The canopy of tree limbs blocked out most of the moon’s rays. The small amount of light that did penetrate looked like skeletal fingers reaching in to grab Emma. Once she managed to sneak out of camp, she ran, unsure of her location. She hoped she was heading toward civilization, or at the very least, a park ranger cabin. The smell of dank earth and the heavy humidity soon turned her legs into sandbags. Every step cost her energy she couldn’t afford to waste. Occasionally, she’d check her phone, but the signal was completely dead, and her battery was at twenty-eight percent.
After the last check, she shut down the phone completely. When she’d left the camp, all she’d wanted was to escape. Now, all she wanted was a glass of ice cold water. Or hell, lukewarm would have sufficed. It was as if she’d sweated all the liquid right out of her body. Worse, she had to pee.
“Damn it!” she said, dropping her backpack and her drawers. She cast a quick glance around when she squatted, then let go. “Ahhh.” Thankfully, she packed sports wipes in her bag, because the idea of wiping herself clean with a leaf was just eww!
That camp well behind her, she studied the moon’s position. She was adept at surviving an urban jungle, but a jungle-jungle, that was another story. However, Emma knew enough to know that the moon rose in the east and set in the west, much like the sun. The moon was off to right side of her, not overhead anymore, and so it was probably descending. Which meant, she could follow the moon west, and while she might not hit any city or town right away, at least, she wouldn’t be traveling in a circle.
She slung her backpack over her shoulder, wincing as it hit her damaged back. The doctor, or rather, healer, as Keir had called him, had managed to keep the pain at bay as long as long she didn’t bump into anything.
For a second, she allowed her thoughts to linger on Keir. His eyes had been nearly golden in color, and the way he’d looked at her…Jesus, she’d felt it all the way to her core. And holy crap! She’d almost kissed him. How freaking impulsive would that have been? If Emma was anything, she was methodical, logical. She liked having a Plan A and a Plan B, and just in case shit hit the fan, a Plan C. Randomly lusting after the big, burly, and oh Lord, beautiful kidnapper was not her way.
Forget about the LARPer already! She kept the moon in her sight, trying to avoid underbrush, boulders, fallen branches, and random holes. Trying and failing. She stepped around a stump, and a branch full of thorns raked her thigh.
“Ow!” To miss the bush all together, she took a big step over the stump and stepped into a watery depression on the other side. Her right ankle rolled. “Crap!” She was not equipped for the outdoors. When she found Mike, she wou
ld strangle him. The easiest score we ever made, my ass!
She sat down on the stump and crossed her injured ankle over her left knee. She’d put on the slippers she’d used for the job because neither barefoot nor four-inch heels had been an option but they’d made lousy protectors against the forest’s elements. She took the sopping wet slipper off her foot, seriously tempted to wring the water out of them and straight into her mouth. She’d seen enough Survivor episodes to know you didn’t drink anything you didn’t boil first.
She rubbed her ankle, rotating it in a circle. Full mobility, minimal pain. She hoped that meant it would be okay. Reluctantly, she put the wet shoe back on her foot and continued her journey through the woods. When the moon fell so low she could barely see it, the haze of the sunrise behind her painted the forest with a variety of green ranging from the emerald of the leaves to the nearly-neon of the mossy floor.
She felt sick and weak with thirst now. She’d always known getting killed on the job—some mark with a gun or a baseball bat—was a possibility, but she never imagined going out like this. In the middle of nowhere. Stuck in nature for the love of God. How many miles had she traversed since her escape? The dense foliage made it hard to even guess. Every time she crested a small rise in the landscape, she prayed she’d see the tell-tale lights of civilization. But nope. No towns. No people. No nothing.
An animal skittered up a nearby tree, the leaves rustling as it ran along a thin branch. Emma’s heart stopped for a horrified moment. What if she died and animals ate her, stripped her of her flesh and picked over her bones? No one would ever know what happened to her.
Her legs too achy to hold her upright, Emma sat down on a soft patch of earth. Water soaked through her black leggings. Amazingly, the cool liquid felt good against her hot skin, even if that skin was only on her ass. She put her bag in her lap and retrieved her phone. After it started up, she waited, hoping for what felt like an impossible break.
Nope. “This can’t be happening.” She choked back a sob. Mike had taught her early on, there was no crying in second story work.
Only, she wasn’t on the second story of some building or house, was she? No. She was in the middle of the goddamn woods dying of dehydration and exhaustion. And still, no fucking signal on the phone!
Her impulse was to throw it against the nearby tree, but she tempered the urge. She tucked the cell back inside her bag and rummaged for anything resembling food. A tear leaked down her cheek when her fingers landed on a fudge-dipped granola bar with chocolate chips and almonds. She unwrapped the treat like a five-year-old with a Christmas present, and practically inhaled the first two big bites while making an mmmmm-mmm-mmmmm sound the whole time she chewed. She swore she’d never tasted anything so good in her life.
“Do you have enough to share?” a deep voice asked.
Emma screamed, diving away from the man and dirtying up her granola bar in the process. Once she’d made it into a defensive stance, she recognized Keir instantly.
Her pulse quickened, her skin felt tight, and all she wanted to do was fling herself into his arms. But she didn’t. Instead, she waved the dirt-covered bar at him and said, “Look what you made me do!” Her belly didn’t care. She sat back down, wiped away the larger debris, and took another bite. “Five-second rule,” she explained.
Keir crossed his arms. “I’ve never heard of a five-second rule.”
“If something hits the ground and it’s down there for less than five seconds, it’s still good.”
“What if it falls in excrement?”
Emma quirked her mouth sideways. “That is a dilemma.” She took the last bite. “I’d have saved you some, but…” She licked the melted fudge coating off her fingers then wiped them on her pants. “I was starving.”
“Huh,” was Keir’s reply. “Where are you headed?”
“I’m guessing back to your place. You caught me, you get to haul me because I can’t take another step.” The granola had given her energy a tiny boost, but she was still thirsty. “I’d give my left eye for some water. You didn’t happen to bring a bottle along with you?”
“You are a strange woman, Emma Watson.”
“I’ve been called worse.” She leaned against the tree, wincing as the bark rubbed her burns. “Seriously, though, I really need some water. Or a soda. Or an ice cube to lick. I feel like I could suck down a lake.”
Keir pulled a four-inch metal tube no more than a half-inch in diameter from a pouch near his knife sheath and handed it to Emma.
“What am I supposed to do with this?”
He knelt beside her, and the heat of his body put her nipples on high alert. He dug down into the ground in front of her. When he finished, the hole was about eight inches deep and full of brown, murky water. He gestured to it. “Drink up.”
She shook her head. “I changed my mind. I’d rather die of thirst.”
“A filter inside the drinking tube takes out the impurities.” When Emma gave him a doubtful look, Keir added. “It’s one of the few things left over from before the war. Trust me. It works.”
At this point, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and even the dirty water was looking tempting. She knew she shouldn’t, but something at the very center of her wanted to trust this man.
The first sip was like drinking water from a crisp spring. It was sweet, and light, and cold. Her body instantly began to revive as she drank more.
Keir put his hand on her shoulder. “Slower. You don’t want to throw up.”
Emma’s stomach gurgled as if to emphasize his warning. She leaned back and let her body process the fluids. “What now?”
“Why did you run away?”
“I didn’t run away. I escaped.”
“To escape would mean you were a prisoner. I told you that you were our guest. There was no guard at your door. You were not tied up or put in a cage. You were in a room that had canvas walls. We’re not stupid people, Emma. If we wanted to hold you, you would not have been able to leave so easily.” His tone betrayed his exasperation.
“Well,” Emma said. “I didn’t realize that. I mean, I guess I knew the place wasn’t all that secure.”
“The question now is, what do you want to do?”
“I’d really like to find the nearest cell tower. I need to make a call.”
“Why do you need a tower to call? Simply yell wherever you are.”
She grabbed her smartphone from the bag, turned it on, and showed it to him. “See. No bars. Nada. Zip.”
Keir jerked back. “What is it?”
“A phone.”
“Is that bottled magic?” He looked alarmed. “What kind of a witch are you?”
“I’m not.” Emma shoved her phone into her bag. “What kind of a dick are you?”
“Tell me what a dick is, and I’ll answer your question.”
She snorted. “Your dick. You know, your Johnson. The ol’ snake pole. Your rod. Your man pipe.”
“Ah. Dick refers to my genitalia. We sometimes call it our breeding stick.”
“Wow. You sure are a sweet talker.”
“Sweet talk I can do.” He leaned in close and brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. “Your eyes are like the night sky on a clear night, a beautiful shade of deep blue. Your hair is the color of unrefined gold and just as precious to me. And your mouth.” He dipped his head, his warm lips brushing against hers with a briefness that quickened her breath. “Your mouth is the color of melon, a bright pink, and just as delicious to taste.” His hand slipped around her neck to caress her nape. Emma exhaled the breath she’d been holding. “A fruit I’d like to sample again.”
His mouth met hers again, only more insistent. Desire flooded Emma’s body, and when his tongue darted between her lips, her brain shut down. She moaned, her arms limp at her side as he conquered her with the kind of kiss she’d only ever heard about in fairy tales. She opened for him, their tongues mingling in a passionate dance filled with desperation and need.
He grasped h
er hips, easily lifting her until she was straddling his thighs. His hands kneaded up her back, the fingers from one hand wending her hair. She rubbed herself against the restrained bulge in his leather pants, and this time, he moaned.
Emma smiled. Yes! She was conquering him as much as he was commanding her. Keir rose up onto his knees, holding Emma hard against, him. She gasped as he turned, pinning her to the ground with his body, his groin pressed hard against her sex.
“I thought I’d never find you,” Keir’s voice was ragged and hoarse. “I believed I never would.”
“You’re right,” Emma said. “You do sweet talk real good.”
The intensity in Keir’s eyes made her chest tighten. She’d never had a man look at her as if she were made of love. Of desire. “You are my mate,” he said.
“Yeah. Our souls entwined and all that.”
He gripped her hands above her head and pushed his hardness against her core. Logically, she knew making out with Keir in the middle of the woods was the very definition of insanity, but her body ached for more contact. She wrapped her legs around his thighs, encouraging him to thrust.
“I want to be inside you, Emma.” He kissed her neck, raising goose bumps on her skin, as he tugged the collar of her shirt and nibbled his way down to her shoulder. “I need to be inside you.”
Her breath was a sharp pant now. “I want to, Keir. I do.”
“Say yes, then. Be with me. Be my mate. You will be a queen if you’ll only say yes.” He licked her salty skin, inhaling her musk.
“Uh, wait. You mean marriage?” She began to grope at him for purchase. “I can’t. Keir. I… I can’t.”
He stopped moving. A low rumble emanated from his chest. He pressed his lips to her ear. “I want you, Emma Watson, and make no mistake...” He rubbed his cheek against her face and pressed a kiss against her temple. “I will have you.”
His bulge hadn’t gotten smaller, and it took all of Emma’s willpower not to rub herself against him again. “Not today. Today, I find my way home.”
Keir gave her an unpleasant smile. “Not today.”
When he spoke, she could see that his canines were large and sharp looking. The better to eat you with, my dear. Her stomach growled. “Speaking of eating.”
