Page 5 of The Zagorath (Shadowed Dreams #3)

Chapter

Five

D ahtao’s tongue swept over his lips as he watched a tall female step out from the dwelling.

His nostrils flared as he drew her scent in, and he growled quietly with delight.

His treasure had emerged on her own. Though still very small compared to him, she was taller than the other females that had been fleeing through the woods.

He had glimpsed her only briefly before she had hidden herself, but he recognized her.

His cock strained and throbbed now, as it did then.

He quivered with need, but he did not go to her… not yet.

Instead, he watched her as she progressed slowly, step by step from the entrance across the wooden platform.

Her eyes blindly searched for the darkness, looking for the danger that was coiled in wait in the thickest of shadows.

His bloodlust, and the whispers of the forest, were dulling, quieting beneath the onslaught of desire that throbbed through him, shaking his being.

It was a sensation like he had never felt before.

Nothing had ever silenced the dark whispers of the forests.

Not even sleep could drown them out entirely.

He was unable to resist their demand for blood and decay—their hunger for life sacrificed and wetted upon their mass of gnarled roots. Nothing except… her.

His tails curled, one of them hooking around his ankle while another slid upward between his thighs to curl around the engorged length of his cock.

It squeezed reflexively in response to the tingle of pleasure that swept through his lower spine and the sensation quaked through him, forcing him to bite back a snarled moan.

Her scent was engulfing him so that he could practically taste her on his tongue.

The musk of her trepidation was exciting, speaking to the hunter within him, but he wanted so much more than that pale flavor.

He wanted her stretched upon the forest floor, panting, her limbs sweaty and her musk sweetly drenching his flesh.

Dahtao shifted his weight impatiently and swore he felt it the moment her feet touched the ground.

He was so connected with the soil of the forest that it danced over his senses.

He disliked that her feet were covered. He wanted to feel the sensation of them bare, brushing over his senses as she took one step and then another.

She froze in place, her eyes wide as she quickly looked around.

One of the fahgor shifted eagerly within the branches above him and he snarled silently up at it.

It hissed back at him in turn but complied with his demand.

His gaze flicked back to the female and his belly tightened with excitement.

She had ventured another few steps forward before stopping again.

Her chest heaved with every deep, nervous breath so that her breasts bobbed enticingly.

She shivered and her gaze swung sharply to her right as two fahgor shrieked and rose from the tree, their wings beating loudly as they returned to the depths of primordial forest. Her small tongue nervously wetted her lips as she stared after them and a soft expletive fell from her lips.

She withdrew a step, and he tensed, preparing to pounce, but she seemed to reconsider her retreat and halted once more in place.

Tension drained from him now that she was no longer attempting to flee and he cocked his head as he watched her. She was considering her options.

Come closer , he silently purred.

A little closer and he would be in position to pluck her up from the ground without terrorizing her with the hunt and chase.

Many denizens of the forest, and a great many forest lords, enjoyed claiming what was theirs in such fashion.

It was not what he wanted. He did not wish for her to be screaming unless it was from pleasure.

He just wished to move her to a location of his choosing where he might properly worship her and demonstrate his devotion so that she would know in truth that he was truly hers.

Night flowers kissed by the moonlight would suit her far better than the blood slicked along the ground where it drenched the roots and was smeared along the trunks of the trees.

Such would not make a pleasant bed for her.

There were no soft, fragrant herbs that he tucked within his own bedding for the pleasure of their sweet smell.

He wrinkled his nose at the dark, bitterly metallic scent of spilled blood.

He lifted a hand and touched where it was already crusting on his lips and face.

It was coated thickly on his hands, too, and had been sprayed liberally along his chest and belly.

Growling softly to himself, he lifted his waterskin from his side and uncorked it.

He doused himself with the contents, taking care to wash off every bit of blood that stood out to him, not once taking his eyes off his treasure.

Letting the empty waterskin drop back to side, his gaze continued to follow her as she inched slowly over the ground, reluctant to put any great distance between herself and the dwelling.

She was cunning, and clearly quite intelligent.

He acknowledged that as he absently tore sweet clover from the ground, crushing the herbs as he rubbed its spicy-sweet scent into his skin.

Her head turned and she seemed to peer at something a short distance away from the dwelling.

She trembled with excitement, and he frowned.

His head craned and he peered at one of the strange, boxy chariots.

Its design was unfamiliar to him, but he understood its purpose as he had witnessed for himself how the one foolish male thought to escape him by that means, even if his chariot had looked different from this one.

Dahtao shifted his weight forward as he watched her turn toward it, suspicion filling him.

His lips peeled back from his sharp teeth, and he crept forward at an angle, mirroring her movement as she turned towards it.

She would not escape. There would be no escape for either of them now.