Page 114 of Blood Fist

Keening, his heels dug into the pallet beneath him as his entire body shook apart with an orgasm that hit him so fast, he didn’t feel it building. Like a sudden crack of lightning, his entire body tightened as he came down Jonen’s throat.

His alpha drank it down with a grunt, eyes fluttering closed as he lapped up every watery drop.

Sweating and shaking, Corric dropped back onto the furs. Black spots danced along his lids as he tried to catch his breath. His skin was cooling, inner fire abating. Jonen was nosing at his navel, rumbling happily as he scented him. The air was thick with the smell of pleased alpha. Corric lifted a hand, fingers dancing in the air as he gestured for Jonen to come closer. Eagerly, his alpha crawled up, kissing him softly. Corric didn’t recognize the taste on his tongue, but he knew it washisand that Jonen would smell like him for days.

Jonen retrieved Corric’s pants, sliding them over his legs so he wouldn’t get cold. Purring, he curled up against Jonen’s chest and let the alpha wrap him in his arms, warming him where the cool night air was kissinghis skin. Brushing hair from his sticky forehead, Jonen laid gentle possessive kisses on his forehead as he felt his consciousness beginning to wane.

Pulling himself from the brink of sleep, Corric opened his eyes. “But what about you?”

Jonen chuckled, nosing at him. “Let me hold you while you sleep, Omega. That’s all I want.”

It was a lie; they both knew it. Corric could feel the press of Jonen’s thick cock against his thigh, and he smelled like an alpha on the edge of rut. But falling asleep in Jonen’s arms sounded like the best thing Corric had ever heard.

He drifted off to the smell of his alpha, surrounded by his warmth, with the promise of a future just like this on the horizon.

“Scale Breaker!”

Corric jerked awake, hands curled into fists as he gasped for air. His skin pebbled, goosebumps erupting along his skin as the icy chill of his nightmare faded. Throat aching, he blinked into the dim light of an unfamiliar tent. It took him a moment to remember he’d fallen asleep with Jonen the night before.

Coming down from the dream, Corric laid a palm against his chest and felt the erratic beating of his heart begin to slow. When he made to pull it away, his skin stuck. Looking down in confusion, he peeled his hand away to see it was coated in something sticky. Touching his fingertips together, he tried to identify whatever he’d gotten all over his hands. For an embarrassing moment, he thought it was slick. He smelled iron.

Then the hearth beside him flared to life, briefly illuminating the tent enough that he could see the tackybrownish stains on his hands.Blood.Gasping, he looked down at himself to see where it was coming from. No pain or injuries made themselves apparent, his skin only marred by bruises Jonen’s hands and teeth had left behind.

“Jonen…” he started, turning to look at his alpha. Face turned away, Jonen’s hands were crossed over his stomach as he slept. Not wanting to rouse him with his stained hands, Corric used an elbow to shove at him.

One of Jonen’s hands slid off his body, limp.

“Jonen?” Corric tried again, forgetting about his hands as he reached for his face. Fingers wrapping around his shoulder, Corric shook him. Jonen’s head rolled to face him, brown eyes open and unseeing.

Crying out, Corric grabbed Jonen’s chest, only the feel this sick squelch of pooling blood. It spattered up to his elbows, still warm. No longer blocked by Corric, the light from the hearth spilled over Jonen. His chest was awash with blood, thick and congealed, it poured out from a dagger sticking straight out of his chest.

Corric’sdagger.

He looked over his shoulder as if the dagger he’d placed the night before would still be there and not sticking out of his alpha. “No, no, no,” he cried, hands shaking as he tried to feel Jonen’s neck for a pulse. His skin felt cool and clammy under Corric’s wet fingers. Tears clouded his vision as he desperately clawed at Jonen’s plump cheeks, shouting his name even as he felt the stillness of Jonen’s chest under him.

Dropping his forehead to Jonen’s, he sobbed. His chest ached and he prayed this was a terrible dream. A continuation of the nightmare he thought he just woke up from.

“Please, no, please,” Corric begged, hands hoveringover the blade as he debated whether he should pull it free. He couldn’t think. His thoughts felt too quick.

Had Sinestrus killed Jonen? Had he come into their tent and…no. He couldn’t have. Sinestrus was still stuck in the mountain. Close as he was to breaking free, it was obvious he couldn’t leave. Not yet. That’s why he’d pulled Corric in. So, he could tell him?—

So he could use him.

Trembling, Corric looked down at his hands. Really looked. Past the congealed blood, he could see tiny knicks in the creases of his fingers. He’d seen them before. Jonen had cut his hand like that the first time he slaughtered a deer, the blood making the handle of his blade greasy. His hand had slipped onto the blade, and Osmond had chastised him for not being careful.

Corric handled the blade.

Horror clawed its way up his throat. He stared down at his shaking hands.

You’re still weak.

Pain.

Hate.

Despair.

Throwing himself back, Corric scrambled away from his alpha as if he could somehow undo what he’d done with distance.