Page 24 of Nansar
Starfield's breathing came steady and deep from where she rested nearby. And beside the great beast, curled into a small ball with her hands tucked beneath her cheek like a sleeping youngling, lay Chloe.
I couldn't look away.
In sleep, the tension that drew her features tight had melted away. Her dark red hair spilled across her forehead in waves that caught the filtered light and turned it to copper. Her lips parted slightly with each breath. She looked peaceful. Vulnerable.
Beautiful.
The thought ambushed me, slipping through defenses I'd thought secure. And with it came the inevitable physical response—that damned tingling at the base of my horns, the prickling warmth that spread along their length like fire through dry grass. Involuntary. Instinctive. Primal. And utterly, catastrophically inconvenient.
I clenched my jaw until my teeth ached and forced my gaze away from her. This was madness. She was human—fragile, traumatized by whatever horrors Hewes had inflicted on her. The absolute last thing she needed was me entertaining base urges I had no intention of acting upon.
I rose as quietly as a shadow, careful not to disturb either Chloe or Starfield, and gathered our empty waterskins. The creek wasn't far—I'd listened to its gentle voice all through my restless night. As I walked through the mist-shrouded forest, I rubbed at the base of my horns, trying futilely to ease the persistent itch. It accomplished nothing.
The forest held an unusual quiet this morning. Yesterday's pursuers had vanished completely, either far away or—more likely—dealt with permanently.
Ahrick's work, I suspected. The thought brought grim satisfaction.
I hoped he'd been thorough. Persico didn't tolerate failure, and dead males couldn't report which direction we'd fled.
Cool, damp air kissed my skin, heavy with the scent of moss and wet earth. At the creek's edge, I knelt on smooth stones and began filling the waterskin, watching crystal-clear water flow over my hands.
My mind circled back to Chloe's reaction yesterday. The way she'd flinched from my touch as though I'd struck her. The raw terror that had flooded her eyes when I'd moved too quickly.The way she'd said she didn't like to be touched, as if the very concept caused her physical pain.
What had that bastard done to her?
Something terrible. Something that left scars deeper than any blade could carve. The possibilities that paraded through my mind made my blood run hot with barely leashed rage.
Had he beaten her? Forced himself on her? Both? Or something even worse that I couldn't bear to contemplate?
My grip tightened on the waterskin, my claws puncturing the treated leather before I realized what I was doing. I forced myself to relax before I destroyed it completely, drawing a long breath. But the anger remained, molten and seething beneath a thin crust of control.
The thought of anyone hurting Chloe—of this Declan putting his filthy hands on her, causing her pain, breaking something precious and irreplaceable inside her—ignited something murderous in me. Something I barely recognized. I wasn't like many warriors. As the Duke's son, I'd grown up surrounded by guards, sheltered from real violence. I could count the males I'd killed in combat on one hand. Bloodlust was foreign to me.
But this? This felt personal in a way that terrified me.
If I ever encountered this Declan, the human would die. Slowly. Painfully. And I would savor every moment of his suffering.
I finished filling the waterskin and stood, slinging it over my shoulder. I needed to get back. Chloe would wake soon, and I didn't want her to be alone and frightened.
I started back through the trees, my footfalls silent on the forest floor, my mind churning with dark thoughts of vengeance against a man I'd never met but already despised with every fiber of my being.
That's when I heard the screaming.
Chloe's voice, high-pitched and terrified, shattered the peaceful morning like breaking glass.
I ran, my heart suddenly pounding in my chest like a war drum.
I burst through the tree line and the scene before me turned my blood to ice, then immediately to liquid fire.
Chloe was on the ground just beyond the trees. A Romvesian—lean and gray-skinned with those distinctive ridged foreheads—had her slender wrists trapped above her head. An Ardurian, stocky with mottled green skin and yellow eyes, was between her spread legs, his hard cock jutting outward as he fumbled obscenely with her clothing while she thrashed and screamed.
"No! Get off me! NO!"
Fool. The word blazed through my mind like a brand.
I'd been so lost in my own thoughts, so consumed by the itch of my horns and everything I'd been trying not to think about, that I hadn't heard them approach. Hadn't sensed the danger until it was already upon her. Stalking her.
They should never have gotten this close. But I'd been too busy wallowing in my own head, and Chloe was paying the price for my distraction.
