Page 6

Rhaego stood on the cliff’s edge and gazed down at the dense tree line below. Only ten minutes ago he’d seen flashes of movement through the branches, but now all was still. The brides had been let go.

The males around him shuffled impatiently. Pebbles skittered down the rocky drop as he stretched the tip of his boot over the edge. He was itching to scale the sheer cliff face as well.

Only a little longer, then he’d be allowed to pursue. Fever rose in his belly as the image of the plump blonde beauty materialized in his mind. He tried to shake it loose. That was not who he was supposed to catch. Diana, the human who belonged to Marsol, was wispy with dark hair. His whole purpose for being here was to secure her and reunite her with her mate.

A breeze blew, and an intoxicating scent drifted to his nose from his bandolier. Attached to his three metal guide loops were the three tokens he’d taken from each human. When he’d started walking in the Promenade, he’d kept his eyes peeled for the female he was supposed to be tracking, but as soon as he’d smelled the blonde human’s scent melding with the warm floral aromas drifting from petals underfoot, his entire being had stilled.

He gazed down at the scrap of fabric fluttering on the highest loop of his bandolier, the loop normally reserved for the token of the female you were most interested in chasing, as it was the closest to the nose. Rhaego frowned. No marks covered his hands, and his eyes hadn’t changed. Someone would have alerted him if they had. In short, he was drawn to her, but he hadn’t recognized her.

Additionally, she’d looked altogether terrified when they’d locked eyes. He guessed she must’ve been the human his king had refused to wake. How long ago had she been roused? And how much had they told her? From the way her pale brows had drawn together in a tight knot when he’d approached the offering stand that held her fabric tokens, Rhaego assumed very little.

The two other humans he’d passed during the Promenade had held different expressions. Fearful and angry, but with an understanding clear in their eyes. He’d taken a token from each of them as well. One from Diana, and one from the third orange-haired human.

It made sense to have an offering from all three. Each male was allowed to take three tokens during their Promenade, and they always did. Only when a male was personally offered a favored token by an interested female would he decline taking any others. It would look strange if Rhaego had only taken one from Diana’s stand.

But then why had he placed the pretty, terrified human’s token so high on his bandolier? Why was he already guessing which way she might have run when he was wholeheartedly determined to chase Diana? That was what the Goddess wanted, after all.

Was this a test? Was the mating instinct brewing somewhere inside him, telling him the other female could be his? Or was that just a convenient excuse to hunt the one he wanted after forgoing the chase for so many seasons?

His fever tugged at his thoughts, and he darkly acknowledged that her comely appearance might’ve been clouding his reasoning. Tuvastans were lustful creatures at their core, and Rhaego was no exception. A vision of the beauty trapped in her seat on the bride’s stage coalesced in his mind. Neither concern nor outrage rose in him at the sight, though.

Appetizing little doe, his simmering fever whispered. A perfect catch for my last chase.

Rhaego frowned as the realization took hold. This would be his last chase.

Ever.

He’d never walk the painted path again. Never capture a bride and sequester himself in a marriage den. The tokens strapped to his bandolier were the last he’d ever select. As a citizen of Tuva, he wasn’t qualified for any other city’s marriage ceremonies, and by the end of this mission, he’d be pronounced a traitor to his people.

Not only was this his last Tuvastan chase, this was the last time he’d be allowed to be married. Short of meeting his mate, he’d be alone. Yet another sacrifice.

On some level, he must have understood this. If his fever sensed this would be his last chase, perhaps it had decided he would track the prize he craved rather than the one he was duty-bound to capture.

No.

Rhaego refused to dispose of his integrity so easily. He’d come back to Tuva for a reason. To help their cause and to serve the Goddess. It was the honorable thing to do. And if he ever wanted the Goddess to grant him his mate and put an end to his loneliness, this was what he must do.

He took a deep breath and switched the order of the tokens so Diana’s was highest. The male next to him caught sight of his movements and stared.

Rhaego stiffened. The other male also had the pale green fabric of Diana’s token displayed on his top loop.

He didn’t notice Rhaego’s glower. His eyes were locked on the green fabric, mind far away in thought. He peered up and flinched when he met Rhaego’s eyes.

The rival gazed down at the cliff edge, gnawing on his lip with a fang. Finally he lifted his head, and in a move meant for Rhaego to see, he switched the order of his tokens.

The male was strong, but he was young and inexperienced. By shifting his tokens, he was trying to assure Rhaego they would not be competing for the same female. A smart move in any other circumstance, but what the poor buck couldn’t have known was that by placing the bright pink token of the blonde human on his favored loop, he’d forced a spike of fever to flare hot and angry in Rhaego’s belly.

Calm, he scolded, forcing his focus away.

It didn’t matter who captured the other female. She was not his concern. Perhaps if he found a way to free all the humans in Tuva, he could explore this attraction, but for now his path was set.

The short blare of a horn rang out three times in succession, and the murmuring around him quieted. The males gathered closer to the edge of the cliff, careful not to push each other off for fear of disqualification.

Rhaego trailed further from the group to a less crowded spot. The climb down would be more difficult than the area teeming with males, but he’d have a path of sheer rock face to himself.

He brought the top token to his nose and inhaled, making sure he knew the scent he’d be tracking. It wasn’t unpleasant. Fresh and clean. It reminded him of soap and crisp autumn air. Diana wouldn’t be hard to track. But even with the token held right against his nose, a different scent beckoned.

Sweet and botanic, like a field of herbs and fruits baking in the sun. Succulent.

Perhaps he should throw the other token away. Rid himself of the temptation.

Before he could go through with it, though, the starting horns blared a deafening tone that would be heard for miles into the forest.

Rhaego leapt. He allowed himself to freefall for only a few moments before sinking his claws into the rock. Eyes searching below, he mapped out a pattern of ledges no thicker than a finger and began making his way toward the valley floor.

Normally he’d take more time and be cautious of his grip, but during the bride chase, time was everything, and he was on a more difficult route than the other males. Gritting his teeth, he allowed himself to drop longer distances, burying his claws in the cliff to slow his progress when needed. They’d be dull before he reached the ground, but after a quick survey of his competition, he knew the sacrifice was worth it. He was in the lead.

A male above him to his left took notice of his strategy and began sacrificing his claws as well.

Competition and the heat of the hunt were like kindling for Rhaego’s fever. As he descended, he tried to calm the rising heat, but the smell of the blonde beauty kept wafting to his nose and muddying his thoughts.

By the time his boots slammed into the ground, his claws were dull and his mind was swimming. He dashed into the forest, followed closely by a handful of other males. Each flash of pink fabric fluttering from their bandoliers had his fever roaring for attention.

He stilled when he reached the clearing the brides had waited in. Trampled paths led off in all directions. Rhaego sniffed the air, sifting through tangled scents.

Two males on his right began fighting. He avoided them but kept a watchful eye on the others. The sooner he could isolate the scent he was looking for, the sooner he could leave and avoid the initial brawl that always unfolded in the bride’s clearing.

Though swiftness was the best strategy, the heat of battle compelled even the most controlled Tuvastans to succumb to their fever, especially when the prize was a female ready to be hunted. Rhaego had fallen into this trap during his first bride chase and promised himself he never would again.

The sweet fragrance that had been plaguing his senses jumped out at him first, as though to further torture his fever. He refused to glance in the direction of the scent trail.

Dodging a trio of brawling males as they crashed into the ground next to him, he concentrated harder. His eyes flashed open.

There.

Soap and crisp air clung to an area of trodden scampelfain leaves just ahead .

Before he could advance toward the scent trail, a male with eyes red as fire charged him. They grappled, but the fever-stricken male was sloppy. One well-placed headbutt was all it took for his opponent to crash to the ground.

A Tuvastan raced past him toward the sweet scent trail he was desperately ignoring. Then another. Flames blazed to the forefront of his senses.

He focused all his willpower on not sprinting in the wrong direction. Toward the wrong bride. His team was counting on him. Marsol’s life was in his hands.

He watched as other pursuers caught hold of Diana’s scent trail and tried to conjure some feeling other than indifference. Jealousy. Bloodlust. Righteousness even. Anything to dilute the salacious urges overtaking his good sense. But his feet wouldn’t budge.

His fever burned deep in his belly. It had already decided what it wanted, and the steam of it clouded his reason. His eyes locked onto the scent trail he needed to keep away from. Had he taken a step toward it?

The longer I stall, the more males I’ll have to fight off. The logic settled in his mind and made his fever purr in agreement. It took one more red-eyed rival stumbling past him in the blonde human’s direction to make him crack.

They dared pursue his prey?

His fever erupted. Reason gone. With a low growl that promised pain, Rhaego barreled in the direction of his quarry.

***

Slamming horns, snapping bones, blood, claws.

Vision laced in red, Rhaego hunted and eliminated all rivals in pursuit of his bride. He traversed the rugged forest strategically. Closing in on her scent while sweeping her path in a wide arc and clearing it of any competition. When he was satisfied there were no other Tuvastans in the vicinity, he locked in on her trail and raced toward it.

A white flash in the distance made him soften his steps. He sprinted as silently as he could until he reached a small bluff.

His target was down there, dashing between trees as she attempted to reach the river.

Though his fever hadn’t abated, it pulsed hotter at the sight of her. She was just as beautiful as he remembered. Pale, fluffy hair flew behind her as she ran, a glint of sweat on her ample bosom. Would the salt on her skin enhance her flavor? Rhaego licked his lips.

Fear shone on her pinkened face as she turned to see if there was anyone behind her.

Don’t fret, lovely human, his fever-stricken mind whispered. I’ll protect you .

A grin curled his lips when she clamped her hands over her breasts, trying to keep the glorious bulk secure as she ran. They bounced regardless, and her firm hold only highlighted the fullness of her cleavage. His steaming blood flowed downward to warm his shaft.

A patch of pale yellow summer wistloes disguised the uneven ground. She stumbled among the flowers and nearly fell. He ached to offer her a steadying hand.

Rustling in the distance spurred him to move, though he regretted he couldn’t linger and watch her longer. She was bouncy and slow and a little clumsy in her haste. Easy prey. The perfect prey.

He kept her in his sights as he descended the short cliff. She stumbled again, this time falling hard onto her forearms. His muscles tensed. No more games. Fever narrowed his focus until all he could see was the white of her dress and all he could smell was her honeyed herbal scent.

Catch her. Claim her.

His hand wrapped around the long snare at his hip. A little closer and he’d be within throwing distance.

She flitted in and out of view between trees. Too many trees. There wasn’t a clear shot.

Sprinting to the left, he stopped trying to quiet the sound of his heavy footfalls and made a point not to avoid snapping twigs. He grinned when she took notice of the sound and bolted to the right, away from him…or so she thought.

The trees of the forest were less dense in the direction he’d herded her, providing a perfect line of sight. Rhaego lifted his snare, fingers buzzing in anticipation. He was close enough now to see the type of knot used to lace her bodice.

She listed to the left as though dizzy, and Rhaego’s lips curled. Exhausted and ready to be caught.

He flung the snare with expert precision. It hooked around her knees and activated, tightening.

Rhaego grimaced as she pitched forward and tumbled to the ground. The fall would hurt. Though he regretted any pain he caused, the guilt did little to dull his unchivalrous reaction to the sight of his snare locking her soft thighs together.

She flipped to face him, and his breath caught in his throat. Skin glistening, hair wild, cheeks flushed bright pink, and pupils dilated so only a sliver of pale blue remained—she was a vision. He’d captured the most ravishing female he’d ever seen, and she was all his.

Mine to tend. He pulled the rope toward him, heart hammering. To mark.

His bride’s eyes shot to the short portion of slack rope as he pulled it taut. She whirled onto her belly and tried to crawl away, displaying her ode-worthy backside.

To lick. Fever burning through every vein, he dragged her toward him. Her dress rode up to her hips and pooled around her thighs. He gazed at her lush, jiggling chest as she fumbled with the snare, managing to shimmy it to her ankles. His cock throbbed. To breed.

A purr built in his chest as he imagined what her hips would feel like beneath his claws.

Their eyes locked for the span of a heartbeat, and she whimpered.

The sound echoed through his skull, and his hands stilled. Fear? Is she afraid…of me?

Uncertainty cut through his single-minded fever, chased by a spike of sadness.

But I would cherish you, little doe.

A roar hit his ears, but before he could shift his focus to the threat, pain tore through his gut. Rage descended, black and blinding. He glared at the male who’d charged him. His horn was buried in Rhaego’s stomach.

Impaled by a young buck? In front of my bride?

The male tried to retreat, but Rhaego took hold of his head before he could. Sharp claws gouged deep lacerations into Rhaego’s thighs as his opponent fought to break away. The horn jostled about as they grappled, and bile rose to his tongue. Despite the sickening pain, Rhaego tensed the muscles of his torso and wrenched the male’s head to the side, snapping off his horn.

The male’s pained screeching fell on deaf ears. He’d been trying to steal Rhaego’s bride. Worse still, he’d made Rhaego look like a weak fool in front of her.

Growl reverberating through his vocal cords, he raised his fist, then paused, holding his attack back for only a moment. Just long enough to gather a shred of control and keep his blow from killing the younger Tuvastan. Then he struck. Before the male’s remaining horn had hit the ground, Rhaego’s focus snapped back to his bride.

She stared at his stomach in horror. He suddenly recalled the sharp horn still lodged in his abdomen. A groan of embarrassment, rather than pain, escaped him.

She had to know he was better than this. Strong and capable of protecting her. This injury meant nothing .

He closed the distance between them, which was difficult as she kept scrambling away. Likely disgusted she was about to be claimed by a male who’d allowed himself to be caught unawares. Shame made his fever-warmed horns even hotter.

He’d show her he was strong enough to deserve her. Digging his fingers into his puncture, he gripped the ragged horn and wrenched it free. The tang of blood hit his nose, but her sweet scent overpowered it as he dropped to one knee before her.

He proffered the broken horn. She’d be able to feel how sturdy it was and be impressed by the force needed to break it.

Her lashes fluttered, her eyes losing focus. Why was she breathing so quickly? He’d pummeled the threat.

“An offering for you,” he rasped.

The color was draining from her face.

Rhaego suddenly wished an older, stronger male had attacked him so he could present her with better proof of his competency as a husband. But he couldn’t risk waiting for another attack. A captured bride needed to be claimed as such aloud in order for the chase to end.

“My little wife.”

They locked eyes and his heart picked up speed. She was so beautiful, and he’d caught her. And she’d now acknowledge the catch as was tradi—

Her eyes rolled back. She slumped to the ground, head falling to the side.

Rhaego shot forward and examined her as gently as he could. She was alive, just unconscious. What had happened?

He began to scoop his new bride into his arms, then stopped. The pink fabric on his bandolier fluttered in the breeze, taunting him. Gritting his teeth, he ignored the squirming in his belly and untied the ribbon as quickly as his trembling fingers would allow. Rhaego gazed at her divine yet undoubtedly unconscious face and tried to squash his guilt. He lifted the ribbon and tied it around one of his horns.

She was supposed to be the one doing this.

A nagging hollow opened in his belly as he lifted his sleeping bride into his arms and set off in a gentle jog toward the Victors’ Parade. With each passing moment, his fever dissipated and the emptiness inside grew until it threatened to swallow him whole.

He’d failed. The mission, Marsol, the Goddess. Rhaego had failed them all.

He’d chased a terrified, bewildered human through the forest…and he’d enjoyed it.

Just as Maxu had predicted, he’d lost control. He was just as bad as the king who’d forced her to participate in the chase and the Queen who’d sent her here like a gifted trinket.

Slices of sunshine lit across her face as he ascended a gentle slope through the trees. Longing made his heart ache. Even if he managed to get Diana and this human out of Tuva in time to save Marsol, it wouldn’t be enough to redeem him.

This had been a selfish, shameful act. Memories of abject terror warping her pretty face and the stench of fear still clinging to her sweat compounded his self-loathing. The only thing he’d accomplished this day was ensuring this beautiful creature would never want him.

Perhaps he was what his people said. A blight.