Page 47 of Dark Fate

His eyes are like black holes threatening to suck in all the light, and he's drinking in the scent of my skin like it's his lifeline. I'm trying to keep the panic from tap-dancing on my vocal cords, but it's hard when every breath from him is like hearing nails on a chalkboard.

"Rhyland?" The name is a bullet I shoot from the gun of my lips, aiming for whatever’s left in there of my vampire Viking. I will my voice to be ironclad, trying to summon back the man—my guardian, my rock—within those now eerily hollow pits staring back at me.

But no such luck. All that greets me is a sound that no language class prepared me for, a growl so deep and guttural it could vibrate my soul clean out of my body. To put it mildly, my survival instincts are waving red flags like they’re trying to start a matador flash mob.

My nightmare of him taking the front seat, and panic kicks in. I start thrashing, throwing everything I’ve got to get free. It’s like trying to dislodge a boulder—my desperate squirms are no match for him. With a ruthless shove, he flattens me back to the ground. I clamp down on my lip to hold back the screams, tasting the harsh tang of fear and determination.

That’s when I see it—a vicious circle of silver engraved deeply, clamped like a shackle around his neck. It marries his flesh in a claim of ownership that sends waves of revulsion churning through me. Anger and dread mix into a toxic cocktail in my veins because who in their right mind thinks they can tame my untamed warrior, reduce my fierce man to a broken beast?

I’m mid-rant, trying to unleash verbal hell, when his massive frame mutes me, pressing down with a cold force that doesn’t feel like his. My mind trips the alarm, slapping the big red button that’s labeled 'total meltdown.' Because this steel and disregard—it’s so far removed from my Rhyland, it might as well be a stranger wearing his skin.

His iron fingers grip my jaw, straining my neck cords, baring my frantically throbbing pulse. Things slow to nightmare speed, watching his lips peel off noticeably long fangs, now a mere breath from my jackhammering heartbeat.

Poised at my throat’s fragile altar, Rhyland hesitates...and I glimpse the inner war waging behind those dark eyes. Somewhere, my mate—my man—battles encroaching madness and bloodlust even now!

Hope flares—I twist violently as his iron grip on rationality slackens by degrees. I wrench one leg to ram my knee hard into any tender target. But quicker than thought, Rhyland anticipates the blow, shifting his weight to capture both my straining legs effortlessly beneath one steely thigh.

A startled yelp snaps short as my hands get slammed high over my head next, his punishing grip manacling both wrists to forest loam. Effective as any iron shackles.

Fear and traitorous exhilaration prove a dizzying cocktail...arousal smolders in my core, feeling his thickening need grind persistently into my belly despite ominous threats. But my brief defiance appears to banish any emerging humanity—Rhyland turns stranger once more, fangs gleaming wetly as he looms closer above my hammering pulse.

"Rhyland, please! I'm here now—come back to me…” I’m literally begging here; every whisper loaded with drama.

Panic’s fiery bile rises, scorching my throat, when suddenly Rhyland’s face contorts into confusion—a look of absence that has no business in our tangled embrace. He’s blinking at invisible phantoms, unseeing and unrecognizing, even with the tremble of my frame beneath him.

His fangs, those deadly peaks of white, catch the eerie blue light, threatening an eternal mark just a breath away. I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting the tears, drowning in dread.

Will he regain control? Or will he, in this trance, end me?

My heart races, bracing—

Rhyland strikes—sinking his teeth into my neck. I cry out at the sudden sharpness of pain. I feel him pull and pull my life force into his body. He’s much more aggressive than his usual bites.

Then the pain fades like always into a sensual, burning fire. My blood heats up to his mouth on me. His cock pressed firmly into me as he drank. Fire courses through my veins as arousal pools between my thighs. I know he can feel it. His hips move against my core. I cry out as his fangs penetrate deeper. Rhyland undoes me in the best and worst way possible.

I'm his.

He’s claimed me.

I'm at his mercy.

I’m aroused, scared, and in love.

Rhyland retreats just enough for our gazes to clash. I watch another internal battle play out wildly across Rhyland's clenched face—madness wars with betrayed hearts.

"Don't leave me. Stay with me, Rhyland." Summoning a desperate force, I jolt up and seal our fate with a kiss to his crimson-stained mouth. I funnel every last drop of my fear-fueled need into the kiss, the sole lifeline for two lovers adrift in a storm.

A deep growl reverberates in Rhyland’s throat as he reciprocates our kiss with primal urgency. His grip on my wrists slackens, and I seize the moment to draw him even closer. My fingers weave through his silky hair, and a wave of relief washes over my taut nerves as he kisses me back.

He’s back—he's really back with me. His hot breath fans across my skin when he finally breaks our kiss, and his eyes roam the untamed expanse of the meadow, bewildered, as if seeing it for the first time.

Breathing in his scent, I feel his heart smashing against mine hurriedly. His gaze settles on me, and his eyes are stormy with confusion. My heart dances frantically as I lock eyes with Rhyland's now bewildered, beautiful, icy-blue depths.

"It’s me, Dani," my voice quivers with urgency. "You’re safe. Everything's going to be okay."

His voice falters, and he reaches out to brush my face with a hesitant hand. "Angel?" The word is barely more than a whisper, tremors of disbelief lacing each syllable.

That voice—his voice—ignites something within me that I hadn't realized was cold until now. Tears carve warm trails down my face as I nod, my heart swelling to the brink with relief, love, and fear—all of it tangled together.

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