Page 90 of Dark Flame

Oh! I should dye my hair bubblegum blue for the next bit.

Pink collar, purple leash. Decision made.

Although. I should probably leave the wolf-taming to his future witch. Your thoughts?

Thirty-Five

ALEC

My Bride.

Safe and in my arms.

And seconds away from being tossed onto my back so we can return home.

My hands travel the length of her body towards her thighs, where, with little effort, I hoist her into my arms, using the tree to trap her. Her legs tighten around my waist and her arms around my shoulders as a tentative intrigue echoes down the bond.

I slide my fingers into her hair, and grip her tighter, kiss her harder, telling her with my mouth exactly how I feel about her running. How the monster inside is demanding I show my Bride why taking off was a bad fucking idea. It craves ripping her clothes off and taking her right here, witchy audience be damned.

She breaks from my mouth for a much-needed gulp of air, and the moment she has it, I haul her back to me, a hand on her neck to keep her submissive.

It’s been nearly twenty-four hours since I’ve been inside her, and the bond wants a repeat. Wants to be inside her for as long as she’ll allow me to be. To tie her to my bed and keep myself sated on her blood and cunt while pampering her until she wouldn’t possibly consider ever leaving. We can spend eternity in my sheets, drinking and fucking.

She’ll pull away soon. I know Harlow, and the hate she felt for me hours prior didn’t vanish with her reuniting with Banff. So while I have her, I take my fill, the bond a cruel, prickly reminder this won’t be enough.

Almost on schedule, her hands push into my shoulders and her head turns, breaking the kiss. Her lips are swollen, and her eyes are a dark shade of lavender, begging me to kiss her again.

“You can’t—we can’t. How did you find me?” She ducks her head, as though to hide, which will never again happen. Her legs loosen, silently asking me to put her down, but I tighten my hold, denying her request.

“I warned you there isn’t anywhere you can run where I won’t be able to find you. As my Bride, we’re connected. I tracked your scent through the woods.” My nose slides up the side of her neck, enticing a groan as I take in what I’ve been forced to go without. “Until you disappeared, when I picked up another witch’s scent. It was all too easy to guess where you were headed, but even so, I followed the bond between us.”

“What bond?”

“The mate bond. Biting reveals who our Bride is—if we’re given one—and between drinking your blood and sex, a connection forms, allowing me to track you and feel your emotions. There are rumours of other abilities, but obviously I haven’t been able to test them before now.”

“Whoa, wait.” She leans against my hand, creating as much space as my arms allow for. “Put me down and back up. You canfeelme? Like reading my mind?”

I only listen to one of her demands. “No, it’s a sense of your emotions, like they’re brushing against my own. It’s how I knew you were concerned about me when I appeared in front of that witch.” The memory tugs at a smile, that when the witch would have attacked, Harlow cared enough to block it. “Or when you were in my room, I felt what you felt. And right now, you’re scared. But not of me—although that’s only an educated guess. Your emotions don’t indicate the purpose behind them. You’re scared because I’m here and you have no idea what it means. Minutes before I entered the house, you were calm.” As much as I’ve always been attracted to her fear, I can’t deny her tranquility intrigued me on another level.

“Why can’t I feel you then?” She tries to mask it with her blank expression, but beneath her apprehension, she’s annoyed, which is intriguing considering what she’s saying.

“It’s only a guess, but probably because you didn’t take my blood in you. Blood-sharing is the ultimate act between mates. Bride or chosen partners, it’stheact that links a couple together. If you were a vampire, I’d imagine the bond would be completed on your end.” Or it wouldn’t exist at all, because she’s not a vampire.

She stiffens in my arms, sniffing. “Don’t wait around for that ’cause it’ll never happen.”

“I’d expect nothing less, Hellion.” The familiarity of our banter is a welcome greeting.

“Is it always like that? Mates aside, if you drank from another, would a bond form?”

“If it did, we’d all be connected one way or the other by now.”

She’s silent, digesting the news. The skin between her eyes is wrinkled, and I can’t help but reach up and stroke it smooth. When our skin meets, she jerks, jamming her elbows into my arms.

“Nope, too much. Put me down.”

I don’t.

“Alec,” she says in that warning tone of hers, and while it’s cute, it doesn’t work how she wants it to.