Page 74 of Wolfkissed
The shift keeps coming, expanding in me. I’m not ready to go through the pain of a full shift right now, though, so I rein it in. I know my head is pretty much wolf-like by now, elongated jaw because that fucking hurt, despite the rage I feel for this stupid cat attacking my mate. My legs bend at weird angles, and muscles bulge in my arms.
Pulling the fucking wildcat off me, I fling it away with a roar, and I hunch over, panting, trying to get my bearings.
What I’m mostly pissed-off about is the terrified look on Rosie’s face. Isn’t that fucked-up? I’m in the middle of a fight for both our lives, but all I can think of is how traumatizing this has to be for her, and how… unappetizing.
If she found me appealing before, I doubt she feels anything positive toward me now. I’m a monster. A twisted half-animal, half-fae mongrel, made with the corrupted magic of a fae king who went mad centuries ago. His actions still haunt my people today.
I leap at the cat, and we clash in mid-air, each one of us going for the jugular. Both of us miss, and we fall and roll on the small pebbles, splashing in the shallows. I hit the water with my back, then hit the rocky bottom, and fuck, that hurts. With my breath knocked out of me, I struggle to get up, only for the cat to jump on top of me once more.
He snarls, long teeth inches from my face, but I shove him off me, muscles straining, ignoring the slashes left by his claws. Finally, I climb to my feet, and when he comes at me again, I open my arms and howl my anger at him.
The cat screams at me, formidable fangs bared, but stays put. His gaze flicks from me to something else further down the shore, and it doesn’t take a genius to know he’s looking at my woman.
But then another roar rises in me, because she’s throwing pebbles at the cat, trying to take his attention off me… drawing it to herself.
No. Fuck, no.
So I set off toward him. Male to male. This is my female, and she won’t be his, for dinner or for company.She’s mine!
The message is received. Before I reach him, with a low growl, the cat shifts on his paws, uneasy. Then he turns and lopes away, vanishing in a dark grove.
I turn to my woman, breathing hard. I barely feel the burning pain in my shoulder and arm. The cat almost ended us, and I still don’t fucking regret the distraction that she is—for my body, my thoughts, my soul. Losing my mother and entering the temple,practically raised by cold, uncaring adults, marked me. Having to fight to survive hardened me.
She’s soft and warm. She’s everything I’ve ever needed. A golden soul, kind and gentle, wrapped in a small, soft body that was made for me.
And here I am, needing her, still in half-wolf form, fully expecting her to bolt. I wish I knew what to do. The shift needs calm to work, and I’m all worked up, ready to tear animals and trees apart to protect her. I’d frighten the shit out of anyone in the state I’m in, all claws and teeth and deformed legs covered in fur where my pants have ripped.
But she doesn’t run. Doesn’t scream and flee.
No, she doesn’t flee. Shestays.
CHAPTER THIRTY
ROSAMUND
Panic is a fist wrapped around my chest, crushing me. Seeing Valen entangled with the huge wildcat—he never said how big they get!—is one of the most frightening moments of my life.
That’s it,I think, watching claws flash and blood spraying as they roll into the stream.I’ll lose Valen.
The thought almost breaks me into pieces. His easy loping grace, his capable hands, his easy smiles and wide grins, his eyes roaming over me, so possessive, his rough voice, his protective nature… his gentleness with me.
No, that would be unbearable, I realize in a flash of understanding, knowing that his absence would cost me emotionally, and not just because he’s my bodyguard and protector.
Grabbing fistfuls of pebbles, I start pelting the cat with them. “Over here!” I yell. “Come here, you stupid animal!”
And the cat growls and turns toward me, showing me I’m the stupid one. I’m not a warrior. I’m not equipped to fight wildcats.
But Valen doesn’t let the cat get me. He roars and starts running toward the animal, and it’s such a frightful sight, the cat jerks away and leaves.
With his head almost wolf-like, stiff ears, and his hair turned into gray fur, his elongated jaw and muzzle, with the weird way his legs stand and the claws on his hands, as if he’s about to drop to all fours and bound away after the wildcat… He’s menacing. Terrifying. Fearsome, which is not the same thing.
I stare at him, and he makes me feel… alive. Finally alive, after all these years. He’s thrilling, shocking… intoxicating. I want to run away, and I also want to touch. I want to hide, and I also want to run my hands over his darkened skin, the fur spreading over his wide shoulders, over the face that’s his and yet isn’t.
He’s my worst nightmare and my brightest hope merging into one.
I start toward him, slowly, hesitant at first, the danger of approaching him a tingle all over my skin, a skip in my heartbeat. He’s still, watching me, a monstrous figure standing in the shallows of the stream. His pants are shredded, barely containing his powerful legs, and his roughly-hewn chest heaves with every ragged breath. The silver-studded collar is still snug around his neck.
I wonder why and how he hasn’t yet torn it off.
