Devin

by Dana Archer

  At peace.

  It wasn’t something he’d ever thought to experience. In this moment, he did, though. It settled over him. The reason why skittered across his mind with some life-altering significance, but he couldn’t get his mind to work.

  Why would he be thinking about peace or holding a woman’s body close? Cuddling with her? He only touched females long enough to get off before hightailing it in the other direction. He’d never wanted to simply hold one. But it wasn’t just any woman he craved. He wanted a special one.

  His.

  Her brown eyes filled his vision and became his world. He knew her from somewhere. But where?

  Confusion surfaced and with it another wave of dizziness. No. Not again. He latched on to the other sensory information seeping into his mind. He had to get himself together and fix his mistake. The idea took hold. He’d done something horrible. His breathing quickened. He forced his eyelids open and scanned the area.

  The early evening left the world around him blanketed by shadows. It didn’t hide the aftermath of the fight. He barely glanced at the body parts littering the ground. He focused on the female lying facedown in the midst of the slaughter, blood soaking the ground beneath her. Her muffled sobs twisted his gut.

  Another memory surfaced, one that chilled his soul. Chocolate eyes, an angel’s eyes, locked on to his. They widened, so did her mouth. No scream escaped, only a garbled grunt. A haze spread over her eyes and replaced the shock. She fell.

  He shook his head to clear it of the image. It didn’t help. The betrayal in her brown eyes haunted him.

  He lifted his partially shifted hand and stared at the blood coating it—human blood, the scent unmistakable.

  He’d blacked out, lost his precarious control, and hurt a woman. The significance of what he’d done hit him, but there wasn’t time to wallow in self-pity or berate himself. She needed help.

  He jogged closer but stopped after a couple of feet. His gaze landed on the female. She dug her fingers into the dirt and dragged her beaten body forward.

  Away from him.

  He swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. “Stop moving.”

  She halted her forward crawl but stretched out her hand, straining to reach a small rock. The sight of her dainty fingers wrapped around the pathetic weapon did something funny to his chest. He pressed a fist hard against the feeling centered there.

  “I won’t hurt you.” Not again.

  A soft hiccup came from her, the only indication she’d heard him. He blew out a rough breath and knelt. His knuckles brushed against her side, barely touching her.

  She whimpered.

  He hadn’t jarred her. Fear drove the reaction. He moved his hand. “I said, I won’t hurt you.”

  A tremor racked her frame, but she didn’t speak.

  He cursed. He didn’t want her to be frightened of him. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, but he had. Probably grabbed her broken hand or knocked her over.

  His thoughts didn’t seem right. Why did he have her blood on his hands?

  He swept his gaze over the rest of her small frame. Minor cuts and bruises covered her limbs. He didn’t see any wounds that would account for the amount of blood soaking the ground beneath her.

  His pulse kicked up. Trepidation squeezed his chest and robbed him of breath.

  “I need to roll you over.”

  She trembled but didn’t offer any other response.

  Gently, he gripped her shoulder and hip. “Ready?”

  No answer.

  He rolled her into his arms. His gaze zeroed in on her torso. The confirmation of his sin stared up at him.

  “Dear gods.”

  He flicked his gaze to her face. Beautiful. More than just beautiful. Gorgeous, with the biggest brown eyes he’d ever seen. At the moment, pain hazed them, but intelligence and the force of her will burned through the glaze. He watched them close and one thought took hold.

  He’d lost his sanity, once and for all.

  Chapter 3

  Devin stared at the evidence of his biggest mistake. Four slashes marred the female’s belly. Blood flowed steadily from them, and the pained sounds she made told him moving her had aggravated the injury. He smoothed his hand over her hair, hoping to comfort her. It didn’t help. The pitiful noises she made reminded him of a wounded animal.

  “I’m sorry. So sorry.”

  Sorry didn’t always help. For her, it meant nothing. She was going to die.

  His chest squeezed, stealing his air. No! She couldn't die.

  He glanced from her injured stomach to the woods. She wouldn’t survive long enough to get her medical help. He’d have to share his blood with her in order to save her life.

  He couldn’t make his hands move.

  Sharing blood wasn’t as simple as slicing open a vein. While she drank from him, he’d be consciously pushing his aura, the powerful tie that linked him to the goddess who’d birthed his forefather, into the blood he fed her. It would weaken him.

  Then again, he was the one who hurt her in the first place.

  Without another wasted moment, he sliced his wrist on a distended fang and pressed it to her lips. Blood dribbled down her chin. His heart raced. He cradled her closer in order to free his other hand and smacked her cheek in an effort to wake her.

  “Don’t die on me, woman!”

  He gave her a little shake. Nothing. His blood continued to drip off her chin. He massaged her throat. She didn’t swallow.

  Her heartbeat slowed. The beats lengthened. Stuttered.

  His cats roared.

  They shoved an image into the forefront of his mind—the female wearing his mate bite.

  Mating her would save her. No doubt about it. He’d be extending his immortality to her by soul-bonding with her. He couldn’t do it, not without her permission. She had to willingly allow his crazed cats to take up residence in her soul. Agree to be his for eternity.

  No. Soul-bonding was out of the question.

  But…but he couldn’t allow her to die. There had to be another way. He studied the picture his cats held, front and center, in his mind. The answer was there, even if it wasn’t the one his cats had intended. He didn’t have to soul-bond with her in order to stop her from dying.

  He could sacrifice his only shot at having kids so she co live out her short human lifespan.

  Could he do that? Give up his ability to claim a mate—whether she was a true mate or just a breeding partner—for her? A woman he didn’t know?

  The memory of her widened eyes and the betrayal displayed in them made his choice.

  He gently pushed her hair out of the way and bent toward the delicate spot where her shoulder met her neck. A deep inhale filled his lungs with her scent, and a wave of rightness gripped him as if he was coming home. He focused on the act, not his reaction to it, and bit.

  Warm, rich blood slid down his throat. Instead of triggering violent instincts, visceral ones rose. Lust as he’d never known gripped him. He ignored it. His wants didn’t matter. He ground his teeth into her bone. She didn’t respond to the pain he knew he caused her. That worried him more than anything.

  Eyes closed, he let his mind surround the woman and reached for her soul. The light in it dimmed. He wrapped his essence around her fading core and allowed her misery to soak into him. She didn’t fight him. Her sigh slipped through him, and a sense of acceptance came with it. He doubted it was for him. More likely, she was responding to the comfort he offered. Still, it encouraged him. She wouldn’t resist him, not as long as he held her agony at bay.

  He pushed a piece of his soul inside hers, linking him to her and allowing her to not only feel his emotions but to share in his strength when they were touching each other. The partial bond—what shifters referred to as a breeding bond, even though in their case, they’d never create a child—didn’t offer her immortality, but the piece of his soul she now carried would save her from dying…at least today. That was all he cared about.

  He released
her without claiming a piece of her soul, the act needed to soul-bond to a mate. For one, he didn’t have the right to take anything from her. For another, he didn’t want her emotions influencing his. He didn’t know her. It would destroy him if he learned the female was in love with another male or involved in something Devin couldn’t forgive.

  His cats’ growls echoed within him, and he tightened his control over them, shoving them back. No way did he want them to frighten the female. Fear could kill as easily as the wounds she’d sustained. His tiger rammed into him. It wanted to walk through the female’s soul. Judge her. Claim her. Lock her to him for eternity.

  Soul-bond to her.

  Devin swayed, his resistance to his cats’ wants wavering. He felt at ease with the female’s soul shining upon him. Even hurt and dying, she chased away the darkness that hovered within him. He wanted to hold on to the warmth she offered.

  But she wasn’t offering her light. He was stealing it.

  He slammed a metaphysical door on his cats and eased away from her.

  “Don’t leave me. Stay.” Her voice slipped through his mind.

  Terror fueled the female’s plea. Devin refused to believe anything else did. Why would it? She didn’t know him any more than he did her. The knowledge didn’t stop him from responding. He pulled her closer, sheltering her in his metaphysical arms. He took her fear, exactly as he had her pain, and left her with his strength and reassurance.

  With her comforted, he stepped back and looked upon her as he did when he checked in on his cats. A thin tether extended from her soul to his. It glowed, exactly as he’d always been told a bond to a female would, but it didn’t look…complete. The tether consisted of a frail strand, not the thick woven cord she would’ve possessed if he’d taken a piece of her soul and allowed his cats to tie themselves to her too.

  No matter. The tiny piece of his soul she held acted as a lifeline, halting her slip into death.

  After a moment, her warmth returned, and her heartbeat quickened to match his. She was healing herself, exactly as he’d hoped she would.

  He breathed a sigh and released her shoulder. Saliva pooled in his mouth. Because she held a piece of his soul, she was technically his mate, according to shifter law, but unless he sealed his scent into her body, nobody would know to whom she belonged.

  And if he did seal his scent into her, he’d never let her go.

  That would cause a problem if she despised him or if she did love another male. Maybe that Krisban shifter who’d been holding her hand.

  Devin locked his jaw and allowed the bite to heal on its own. Had she been a mature shifter, her own healing ability would've guaranteed no sign of the bite would remain. She wasn't a shifter, though. She was human. As such, she'd carry the scars from this encounter. No doubt those would include emotional ones.

  She groaned as the entry points sealed, and the agonized sound pierced his heart. He automatically reached inside himself to comfort her, but instead of his mate’s presence, he found a hole in his soul.

  Because he didn’t take a piece of her soul to fill it. He mated her as if she was his breeding partner.

  How ironic was that? He formed a one-way breeding bond with a woman who’d never be able to conceive his child. She was the wrong species.

  Actually, it was better he waste his chance at procreating on this female. The world didn’t need his kids in it. His luck, they’d be as messed-up as him.

  He pushed away the anger over not having her soul inside him and focused on why he’d mated her in the first place. He might’ve stopped her from dying, but she wasn’t out of danger yet. Without his immortality, she was human, albeit slightly stronger because of her partial tie to him. It wouldn’t stop old age from weakening her body or death from claiming her. It would only delay it.

  With his wrist pressed to her lips, he pinched her arm. She groaned, the action forcing her to swallow the blood filling her mouth. After a moment, she parted her lips wider and sucked weakly on his torn flesh.

  He brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “That’s it, my little mate. Take more.”

  Due to the severity of her wounds, she hovered on the edge of consciousness. That was probably a good thing. Even with the bond they shared, he doubted she’d willingly accept his gift.

  Actually, she might not even recognize she held a piece of his soul. Humans didn’t have the ability to look inside themselves. The mystical bond he’d formed with her was exactly that, mystical—unseen, unexplainable, yet undeniable. At least for him. He’d never be able to give a piece of his soul to another woman—shifter or human—and when this female died, she’d take it with her, leaving him with a permanent hole in his soul.

  Although it bothered him she wouldn’t be aware of what he’d shared with her, he was glad as well. He was too broken—his mind too shattered—to offer her a home. Besides, she might not be worthy of him. He had no intention of loving a kidnapper, whether she was tied to his soul not.

  Spots danced across his vision as the female drank from him. He leaned against a nearby tree to support himself and ran his free hand over her arm, murmuring comforting words. She needed to remain calm and take enough of his blood to help her body heal itself.

  Finally, the slashes on her stomach closed, and her misshapen fingers straightened. He breathed a sigh of relief. She was going to live.

  He closed his eyes against the dizziness the loss of blood caused, but her groan yanked his attention back to her. She grasped his arm and pulled him closer. Her blunt nails dug into his flesh. She sucked harder on his wrist, and the sensation of her mouth tugging on him whipped through him. His eyelids drifted shut. Each time she pulled on his vein, another bolt of electricity skipped down his spine. He reached for her leg, needing to touch her. His hand met something warm and sticky.

  Blood.

  Shame filled him for allowing lust to surface. He had no right to feel anything pleasant, not while the woman he’d injured was fighting for her life. He yanked his hand from her thigh and ignored his body’s response to her.

  Normally he could keep his primal drives in check around humans. His mate’s scent destroyed his hard-won control, and the memory of the few moments of peace she’d given him made him consider things he shouldn’t. Crazy stuff like thinking she was his true mate and would welcome an eternal tie to him, despite his unstable cats.

  No. He didn’t deserve one. A few seconds of peace was all he’d ever get.

  Trying to distract himself, he stared at the blood and dirt streaking the female’s face. Neither obscured her features or hid her beauty. Spiky, dark lashes lay against her skin. A sprinkling of freckles dotted her cheeks. A pert nose and delicate cheekbones gave her an innocent appearance, but the full pink lips wrapped around his wrist destroyed the image. So did her muffled moans and the way she squirmed on his lap.

  Wicked images skipped through his head. Completely inappropriate. He tore his gaze from the sight of her throat working as she swallowed and glared at the darkened woods around him. Anything to stop the direction of his thoughts. He guessed they were a couple of miles from the road, a remarkable feat. He’d never seen a human, especially a female, move so well.

  He didn’t consider himself a chauvinist. Mira could hold her own against any male, even him, but the woman he now held was tiny, breakable, and…

  Mortal. Someday, she was going to die.

  His eyes burned. A lump formed in his throat. He coughed around it and rubbed his arm over his face. The loss of blood had to be causing both the pricking of his eyelids and the rough time he was having swallowing. He’d never experienced either reaction to sharing his blood, but he’d never given as much to anyone.

  No matter. He could suck it up. The female needed this.

  Teeth gnawed at his wrist, dragging his attention right where he didn’t want it. A flush had replaced the paleness on her cheeks, and her nostrils flared. She flicked her tongue against his skin. A smoldering fire ignited within his blood, and her feeding
turned into a kiss he couldn’t return. She worked her mouth harder—sucking, licking, nibbling—before finally releasing his wrist with a low groan. Her head lolled to the side. A soft sigh escaped.

  He grinned, pleased that she found the taste of his blood enjoyable. According to the few humans with whom he’d shared blood, its flavor was sweet and rich. To him, it was just blood, nothing special, but humans were different in so many ways. He’d be lying if he said he understood them.

  Before moving to West Virginia to help protect his pride member, Rafe’s, new family, Devin had avoided humans except for the times he’d needed a woman. Those encounters were centered on sex, not talking. That would have to change, at least where his little mate was concerned. He’d have to convince her to tell him everything about Molly and herself.

  Carefully, he smoothed her hair, dislodging the leaves and twigs. She wrinkled her nose and snuggled closer. He stifled a chuckle. She looked comfortable. Not wanting to wake her, he cradled her close so her head rested against his chest and her short, muscular legs draped over his arm.

  With her secure, he started the trek over the Delaware countryside to where her car was stuck in the ditch but paused at the top of the ridge she’d rolled down. He looked over the area. His chest tightened. The woman could’ve killed herself running from him, and it would’ve been his fault.

  Who was he kidding? All her pain was his fault. It had started here and ended by the rock wall with his claws in her stomach. The thought fed the anger and the shame he constantly lived with. He hated being broken, half a man.

  Now he was hers. Every messed-up inch of him. Good thing she didn’t have to keep him.

  He focused on putting one foot in front of the other in an effort to stop his thoughts from drifting to her. When he finally reached the pond, the sedan belonging to the lion shifters was nowhere to be seen—but a few tire marks near the water hinted at its new home—and Kade leaned nonchalantly against the side of the ’Cuda. He was blood-free and wearing a spare set of clothes.