Page 51

He's toying with me. Making just enough noise to let me know he's there, but not enough to reveal his position. The bastard.
"I know you're there," I call, my voice steadier than I expected. "If you're going to stalk me like some beast, at least have the decency to show yourself."
Only silence answers me, but I sense his presence like a physical touch on my skin. He's watching. Waiting. Theknowledge prickles along my spine, a delicious tension building between my shoulder blades where I imagine his eyes are fixed.
I shouldn't find this arousing. I shouldn't be standing here, heart racing, body humming with anticipation. I should be practical, sensible Ronnie who doesn't have time for games or danger or desire.
But tonight, with the moon high and my blood singing from narrowly escaped death, I am not that Ronnie.
I pivot to run again, but a sudden rush of air displaces behind me—then strong arms lock around my waist, spinning me around with dizzying force. A startled gasp escapes my lips, but it dissolves into something closer to a sigh when I see who's caught me.
Araton.
His wings are partially extended, creating a dark canopy above us. Moonlight catches on the silver flecks scattered through his dusky gray-blue feathers, making them shimmer like stars against a twilight sky. There's blood smeared across his bronze skin—some streaking his bare forearm, more splashed across his jaw and throat. His clothing is torn in places, revealing glimpses of taut muscle beneath.
But he's grinning. Gods help me, that insufferable, gorgeous grin with the dimple cutting into his right cheek—the real smile, the one that reaches his golden eyes and sets them ablaze.
"Look what I caught," he purrs, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through my body where he holds me against him. His hands span my waist possessively, thumbs pressing into my hipbones through the thin fabric of my dress. "A wild thing, running through my forest."
"Your forest?" I arch an eyebrow, fighting to keep my voice steady despite the excitement coursing through my veins. "I wasn't aware you'd claimed these woods, xaphan."
His eyes darken at the challenge in my tone. "I claim what's mine."
The simple declaration sends a bolt of heat straight to my core. I should bristle at his arrogance, should push against his chest and remind him I belong to no one. That's what practical, guarded Ronnie would do.
Instead, I find myself leaning closer, drawn to his warmth and the scent of him—sweat and blood and something distinctly male that makes my mouth water.
"You're bleeding," I say, reaching up to brush my fingers along a gash on his shoulder.
"The thassir objected to being killed." His smile turns predatory, eyes tracking my every movement. "But I needed to find you."
"And now you have." The words come out breathier than intended, betraying my arousal.
His nostrils flare slightly, and I know he can sense my desire—the quickening of my pulse, the flush spreading across my skin, the subtle shift in my scent. A hunter attuned to his prey.
"You ran from me." There's an accusation in his voice, but also wonder, as though he's both irritated and impressed.
"You told me to." I tilt my chin up, meeting his molten gaze head-on. "Or have you forgotten shouting at me to run while you wrestled that beast?"
His hands tighten momentarily on my waist. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."
And I do know. He's not talking about tonight. He's talking about three years ago, when I slipped away without a trace, taking his child with me. When I ran from the intensity of what was building between us, from the vulnerability I couldn't bear to face.
But tonight, with the moon high and death so recently cheated, I find myself unwilling to resurrect old hurts. Not whenhis body is pressed against mine, hard and vital and alive. Not when his wings curl around us, creating an intimate space that feels separate from the world.
I trace a finger along his jawline, collecting a smear of blood. "Now that you've caught me, what are you going to do with me?"
The question hangs between us, loaded with possibilities. His eyes go positively molten, pupils expanding until only a thin ring of gold remains. His wings ruffle slightly, the feathers making a soft susurration in the stillness of the forest.
One hand slides up my spine to tangle in my hair, sending a cascade of shivers across my skin. He pulls, just enough to tilt my head back, exposing my throat to him. I should feel vulnerable, but all I feel is a desperate, clawing hunger.
"Eat you, of course," he growls against my ear.
25
ARATON
Amixture of the thassir's blood and my own is still hot on my skin, its death throes echoing in my mind as I hold Ronnie against me. My body thrums with leftover adrenaline, every sense heightened to painful clarity. I can hear her heartbeat, smell the intoxicating mix of fear and arousal coming off her in waves, feel the slight tremor in her limbs where she presses against me.