Page 59 of Hunt Me

The only creatures affected by the double moons are fated mates being pulled toward one another. To resist brings out the shadow beast like nothing else. I’ve seen the destruction—the madness—firsthand. I never thought it would be my turn.

My shadow beast snarls for me to turn around and give in to its desire. To bend her over and take my fill of her. If I weren’t trained in torture, I’d undoubtedly give in. Resisting only invites more madness, but I do it. I won’t take her against her wishes. She’s clearly unaffected by the moon fever, or I would have seen it. Felt it.

So, I walk away from her, my blood singing for hers.

It doesn’t matter that she agreed to trade my life for hers. I would have taken the same deal if I’d been in her shoes. But it’s not just a warrior’s understanding. It’s more. Not even this need to possess her—thanks to the moon fever—is to blame. For some reason I can’t make sense of, I’ve already forgiven her for an act I have killed countless men for in the past. Maybe it’s the mate bond, but I’m beginning to care for this woman.

When I reach my bedroom, I slam the door and then loose the roar that’s building in my throat. It shakes the stone walls—probably hard enough that the rest of the castle feels it, including her. At least, there was no hellfire this time.

I need to find a release before that happens again.

The fact that I’m even fighting off claiming a mate is still hard to believe. My bloodline shouldn’t even be able to have a fated mate. My mother saw to that. I’m nothing more than a predator on a leash. A beast to be captured.

And no matter how badly I want that female in the bed down the hall, I refuse to let her imprison me.

Unfortunately, reminding myself of that fact does nothing to solve the painful erection I’m sporting. Nor does it alleviate the darkening desires that are slowly taking hold in my mind.

I spend the next twenty minutes in the shower, my hand wrapped around my hard length, imagining her mouth locked around me instead. She wants it—not like I do, thanks to these double fucking moons, but still. I can scent her desire for me, but she’s not letting herself give in to it. And the longer she resists, the harder it’s becoming for me to keep my hands off her.

She thinks her touch will kill me.

I believe her.

But I’m beginning to think not touching her will have the same effect.

The madness whispers to me that I’m not wrong.

My body shudders with the force of my orgasm, and I hope it’s enough to help me survive her today.

Dressed and more or less composed, I don’t bother looking for her downstairs. She’s made it clear she won’t be ordered anywhere. Instead, I turn toward her bedroom. And I’m so excited at the idea of punishing her for disobeying me, I almost miss the covered figure darting down the corridor that crosses this one.

I catch up with her just as she reaches the door to the terrace gardens.

“Going somewhere?”

She whirls, and I note she’s at least wearing the clothes I asked Chaya to deliver, including the gloves and scarf. My gaze lingers on her breasts, and I remember how she looked in that bed earlier. The shock on her face when I ripped that blanket off was priceless, but the sight of her bared body eclipsed everything else. I’m already hard again just thinking about it despite my shower session.

The frenzy stirs in my blood, and I shove it down, using every bit of torture technique I possess to remain in control.

“How did you get these?” she demands.

“What are you referring to?”

“My clothes,” she says impatiently. “They’re mine. How did you get them here?”

“I went and got them last night.”

Her eyes widen. “You were in my house?”

“It was easier than trying to shop when I didn’t know your size,” I say. “Although, now that I have it, I’m sending Chaya to get you a few more items today.”

She glares. “You had no right to go through my things.”

“Would you prefer I let you keep wearing the same blood-stained clothes day after day? Or the ill-fitting borrowed garments of my past guests?”

I think of the robe. Actually, I thought of the robe throughout the night. I even checked her dresser at home for anything similar because I want nothing more than to strip her of any other clothing so she’s forced to wear only thin satin garments with short hemlines. But it’s not exactly practical for transport.

She doesn’t answer.

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