Page 56 of Caged

“I can smell your blood, little morsel, and I want it. If you wish to stay intact, you will flee from me.”

Alex’s breath catches in her throat, the perfume of her arousal intoxicating me instantaneously.

And then she is gone. Her footsteps are deadened by the debris on the forest floor but audible nonetheless. Every single inch of me aches to chase, to open my wings and crash after her, making short work of the tasty snack I know will be waiting for me.

But if this is to be any sort of challenge, I have to be patient, like the male apros, circling the myriad of spirals, waiting for their chance to dart in and become part of the frenzy. To claim a female and an egg.

It’s only when I hear the howl of the nightbirds, their discordant chorus setting me on fire, do I finally give up any semblance of holding down my feral side.

“I am coming for you, little treat, and when I find you, you had better be ready,” I growl out before plunging after her scent.

ALEX

It’s sweaty and hot. I discard my jacket as I race through the trees and undergrowth in the dark, lit only by the clumps, seemingly everywhere, of apros, all of whom are having a very good time.

My thighs are slippery with need for Sylas. Being chased should absolutely not be hot as in sexy but fuck, it is!

My dress snags on a branch and without stopping, I pull it over my head, and it’s gone too. Because if I’m going to have a massive Gryn gladiator bearing down on me with two “swords” at the ready, why not be prepared?

What is he going to do when he catches me? I’m panting hard with the exertion already, but my mind is going places I didn’t even know existed.

Up ahead, the forest gets denser, with smaller trees in among the huge ones, slowing my passage. It’s darker in here, only the occasional apros dancing through the gloom. I spread myself against the trunk of a huge tree, sinking into the soft moss which grows up the bark, and attempt to stifle my heavy breathing.

So I can hear Sylas coming. The feel of his teeth scraping up my neck is still raw and the way my body reacted…can’t be real.

He is a predator through and through. He could do anything to me, anything he wants. And in the fragrant, humid dark of the forest, I want him to do with me what he will.

A branch cracks somewhere in the night. Is it Sylas?

I risk a glance out into the night, my eyes finally adjusted, but not enough it seems, as all is blackness. I turn back.

Huge arms plant on either side of my head, claws thunking into the wood as if it’s paper. He drags them down, leaving huge gashes. Sylas is entirely monstrous, feral, and as naked as I am, save for my knickers, and they’re so wet I may as well not be wearing them.

His cocks jut out, separated and ram rod straight. Pre-cum drips from them both as he heaves out heavy breaths, muscles rippling.

I go to duck under his arm, to get away, and a vast hand curls around my throat, pinning me in place firmly, gently as a growl rumbles from deep within him.

“Female,” he says, scenting the air. “You shouldn’t have run from me.”

I squirm, and his cocks fountain more pre-cum.

“And the more you try to get away, the more I will take from you,” he adds, eyes blazing with reflected bioluminescence.

It seems his presence has somehow drawn in the apros. They’re filling the air above us with their slow, circling dances filled with sex.

Silas trails his hand down my writhing body, a claw pricking at a nipple, then an entire handful of the spiked appendages spanning over my abdomen until he reaches my knickers. He glares at me as if I’m spoiling his enjoyment, and in a single flick, I’m bare to him.

“Spread your legs,” he orders, his voice a rasp dredged from hell. “Let me see what I have caught.”

I don’t obey, instead continuing to fight his grasp, putting my hands on his arm and pulling.

I may as well be fighting the tree I’m held against.

Sylas growls and shoves his knee between my thighs, pushing them apart. His cocks press against my stomach, the hot pre-cum gushing down over my mound.

“Bad little prey,” he rumbles. “You’ll pay for your failure to comply.” He cups my pussy. “What do we have here? Wet for me?”

“No…” I say, adoring every second of our play, the way he is rough with me but not rough, the way his eyes are alive with the forest around us, the dark orbs a window to his lust-filled soul.

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