Page 98 of Forged in Blood

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “So why did you come here?”

“I had this really overwhelming feeling that the boys were in trouble and they needed me here. I know that’s stupid—what could I do to help? But…” Her eyes widen. “They are okay, aren’t they?”

I nod.

She places her hand over her heart. “Oh, thank god.”

My mind fills with questions. Did something or someone lure her here? Who is trying to hurt her? How do I protect her when I have no idea what she needs protection from? Why does—dammit. There is no time for this. Not now. “We need to leave.”

She nods and plants her hands on the ground to push herself up. Her immediate compliance provides yet more fuel for the ache in my cock, but my attention is stolen by the stream of blood trickling from the cut in her knee. Unconsciously, I lick my lips and my fangs protract farther, painful in their throbbing need to take her.

“You’re bleeding.” The words unintentionally sound like an accusation, and a sweet blush creeps over her pale cheeks.

“Sorry.” Did she just purr that word, or am I imagining things? My senses are clouded by the scent of her blood mingled with my sordid desire to throw her into the dirt and fuck her into her next life.

I tear off a strip of fabric from my shirt and hold it out to her, but she simply blinks at my outstretched hand, her pulse racing and her breathing growing harsher and heavier with each passing second.

I shove it at her, my sanity close to snapping. “To dress the wound. The last thing I need is for you to be bleeding all over these woods on the night of the Hunt.”

Realization dawns on her face, and she reaches out to take the material from my hands. Her fingertips brush mine, and I don’t miss the spike in her heart rate that mirrors my own. Nor can I ignore the scent of her growing arousal.

“Thank you, sir,” she says in a sultry whisper.

Sweet demons of the netherworld. “Stop that, Ophelia.”

“Stop what?” She wipes away the blood before tying the fabric around the wound on her knee.

I suck in a breath. Even the air is thick with her scent. The sound of branches breaking in the distance chases away an image of me simultaneously sinking my fangs and my cock inside her. “Can you run?”

She hobbles forward and winces. “Not fast.”

With a muttered curse, I scoop her into my arms. Her breath hitches, and her body radiates heat. “You d-don’t have to. I can run a little.”

“The sooner we get you out of here, the better.” I do not add that the pledges and hunters are the least of her worries and that she should be most afraid of me. That the resistance I have built over two thousand long years is currently hanging by the very finest of threads.

I take off running through the woods, and she is forced to wrap her arms around my neck. I ignore the way her skin on mine makes liquid heat sear through my veins. Ignore how the beast inside me roars and rattles the steel cage controlling him, ravenous with unparalleled hunger. I force myself not to focus on the delicate weight of her in my arms and how she will feel unbearably heavy the moment right before I set her down. For it will be in that singular moment in time when I will tell myself that I will never hold her again. I shove all of that aside and focus on finding the fastest route back to the house whilst avoiding coming into contact with any other beings along the way.

“I’m sorry I’m so heavy,” she says.

“You weigh next to nothing.”

“You’re breathing kind of heavy.”

That is because I am waging war against all my instincts. Every ounce of restraint I possess has been enlisted to prevent me from taking you right here. To sink inside you in all the ways there are and make you scream your proclamation to the entire world that you are mine. I keep all of that to myself, but I do give her another truth. “I am still working hard to suppress my anger at your stupidity, Ophelia.”

She looks so sad that I almost regret telling her that. I blow out a heavy breath. “So you felt somehow compelled to come here?”

She blinks. “Yes. That’s it. Like something was calling to me. Like I had no choice. Can that happen?”

Who could have done that? Of all the things that seem to happen in Ophelia’s life that put her in harm’s way… or my way—and right now that could be one and the same…

This is not the time for this. My sanity and control are too close to the breaking point. “It is more likely your connection to the boys brought you here.” Hopefully my lie buys me time to figure out the answers to all her questions and mine.

“Oh, I see. Then they won’t be too mad at me, right?”

We reach the house, and I stop running and set her down on shaky legs. I brush a lock of hair behind her ear, and she leans into my touch. She is looking up at me in that way again, full of trust and longing. Heat and desire and impotent rage burn inside me. I am not a man deserving of that look. Not even close. And that is why this thing that seems so inevitable between the two of us can never happen. “They are going to be incredibly mad, Ophelia.”

“But will you tell them I was drawn to them by our bond?”

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