Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 112500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 563(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 563(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
His claws extended, his beast demanding vengeance. Yet nothing could compete with his mate’s pull. He charged off toward that undeniable scent without a backward glance.
Lowell realized it was a familiar scent, one he’d dreamed of but had never been able to find. Tonight more than one mystery would be solved.
He freed his beast fully, and the heat of that force cleaved through every leash the witch had wrapped around him.
Almost every one.
Almost.
Chapter 59
Ditch
“Begone, foul creature!” Ditch snapped, turning from her vigil at the window.
Nettle lingered in the office doorway, golden eyes too intelligent, pupils slitted to knives. Fur bristled. She yowled a warning that set Ditch’s nerves even more on edge.
“I will make a stole out of you.” Exhausted and bruised, Ditch was in no mood for an ill-omened visit. It wasn’t even midnight. And she’d begun to feel the decided failure of spells. The sabotage of them.
Apparently, her campaign to win hearts and minds had won none. Even Meera had deserted her.
With a hiss, Nettle shot away.
“And don’t come back—”
A massive shadow took Nettle’s place, filling the doorway.
Thane.
But this was not the controlled, disciplined king she’d traded barbs and pleasure with. This was the moon-mad animal that lived beneath his skin. Towering, rippling, and hungry.
His bulging muscles twitched with anticipation, face and chest coated in blood. An unholy blue fire lit his eyes. His breath steamed in heavy gusts. Claws and fangs dripped.
Her heart kicked hard, but she kept her expression flat. “Ah-ah, beast. Heel.” She raised her palms, summoning her power. The glow flickered, weak. Her tail and horns barely gave off a spark, like dying candlewicks.
Damn it! She ran on fumes.
He did not. Superpowered by moonglow.
She considered pressing the alarm under her desk that Meera had noted in a binder. Still, an army of witches would have difficulty felling him—Lykae beasts shed spells—if they even mustered for Ditch.
“Thane,” she said, “if there’s so much as a scrap of you left in there, claw your way to control. Because what happens next, there’s no coming back from.”
He answered with a low, seismic growl that rattled the windowpanes and guttered the fire. He stalked forward, step by step, heat radiating off the remnants of his torn and bloodstained clothing. The wood beneath him groaned.
Her face changed, twisting into its demon aspect, but he shook off the mesmerizing effect, like stepping through a cobweb.
Her stomach dropped. “I said no, wolf.” She fired two hexshots. One slammed into his arm to blow out a chunk of flesh, one hit center mass, exposing bone.
The room quaked from the force, but he didn’t blink. Didn’t grunt. His flesh simply boiled, knit, and smoothed as if she’d splashed him with water.
Smoke thickened the air. Sulfur burned her throat.
She fired another shot of acid and lava. It splashed his neck, steaming. He sloughed it off, the molten mass hissing down to the hardwood. She fired again, but her palms fritzed, sputtering useless light.
Nearly the godsdamned Awaited One, and she couldn’t even slow a wolf king. Her only hope was the alarm.
He bared his fangs, his gaze a frenzy of predatory desire.
She dove for her desk.
He reached it first.
With a single swipe, he batted it across the room, wood splintering against the wall.
He seized her around the waist, crushing her against his chest.
“Let me go!” She punched her horns into his shoulder. The tips scraped bone. Her claws raked his chest. She tore strips of him open.
He didn’t seem to feel her, just dragged her head back, clamping her nape with a huge palm.
Her tail snapped forward, injecting his arm. She pumped venom into his muscles until toxin-tinged blood streamed from his flesh.
He didn’t react to the strike. Instead he inhaled deeply at her throat. A low groan vibrated through his chest, through her bones. The heat from his skin made her sweat. Her flailing legs brushed his hardened shaft but couldn’t get leverage for a kick.
He dragged his face along her neck, and a primal shudder racked him. Snarling, ravenous, he licked her flesh. His breaths fanned the wet trail.
Was he going to claim her? Bite her?
“Do not do this, Thane! You have no right!”
Suddenly he stilled. Cocked his head. Listening to something she couldn’t sense.
Then he launched forward. She slammed against his chest as he sprinted for the stairs. She was trapped against him, hauled like prey as he leapt down the steps.
The sconces in the hall burst as they passed, glass raining like sleet. Dried charms and witch knots tore loose from the walls. The floor split under his pounding strides, dust pluming. Nettle screeched somewhere in the keep as the beast thundered on.
Cold air hit her as they burst into the night. Trees seemed to writhe toward them, as if pulled by the Lykae’s gravity.
Four Riders appeared, hoods up, palms lit. Smirking Rosewyn the Banehand was among them. She could fell even this beast!