Page 61 of Alpha Exile

"No!"

Running forward, I leap onto his back, wrapping my legs around his waist. It does almost nothing—he keeps marching forward, his body barely even responding to my weight, much less the still-leaking arousal between my legs.

But I tighten my arms on him and lean forward, tilting dangerously until we go down to the ground together. Pinning him with my legs, I cage his face with my hands and stare down into his eyes, desperately willing some part of him to wake up, climb out from inside his body, and show me that he's still in there.

"Please," I beg, my heart twisting, my voice wobbling with emotions. Tears slide down my face and across his skin. "Please, I'm begging you. Remember me, damnit!"

One of my tears lands on his right eye. He blinks it out of the way, his vision clearing for a moment, those beautiful baby blues staring up at me.

Voice hoarse, he murmurs, "Delilah?"

Then the cloud passes over again, and suddenly he snarls, arching beneath me and throwing me off. I land on the ground half-naked, my bare ass and thighs sliding across leaves and stick, scratches tearing and healing on my skin.

But I don't care. Because he saw me. He wasthere.

And now my other mates are here as well, bringing what I need with them. Lance rushes between me and Roarke, his white fur shining, hackles up, while Finn races around behind him to keep him from retreating, and Kieran boxes him in.

"Here." Bastian shifts to human form and kneels beside me, holding out a small, familiar bottle filled with eerily-glowing water. "Hopefully this will help. Do you know what to do with it?"

"No," I confess. "But I'm hoping that if I make him drink some of it, I can get into his mind the way I got into yours. He's still in there, Bas—I swear he is."

"Whatever you need, just tell me." Bastian looks up and peers into the tears, then adds in a worried tone, "Make it quick, though. The spirits are awake, and they sense Delphine nearby. She's coming for him—for all of us."

All the more reason to hurry. "Hold him down."

Kieran leaps forward to do just that, pinning Roarke in his wolf form, jaws snapping just above his face. I can feel his turmoil and torment as he does so, his desire to save his friend warring with his desire not to hurt him.

"I promise this is for the best," I tell Roarke, coming to kneel beside his head. "It'll all make sense in a moment or two."

Grabbing his nose, I hold it tight and wait for him to open his mouth. I don't have to wait long—he snarls, his fangs sliding towards my wrist as he tries to shift into his wolf form. I will him not to, forcing all my power and influence into him and fighting against the rage-filled spirit a second time.

There isn't time to spare, so I uncap the water bottle and tilt it over Roarke's mouth. I let a mouthful pass his lips, then grab his chin and force it upwards, sending Bastian a grateful look as he slides next to me to add his own strength.

Roarke struggles and bucks, the spirit within him howling with rage. I press my knees to either side of his face, feeling ridiculous for a moment as it occurs to me that only a minute ago we were making love—strange, unfamiliar rage-filled as it was. Now we couldn't be further from that intimacy than ever before, even as I slide his head between my naked thighs and clasp my hand over his mouth.

He looks up at me, and for a brief moment, the white of his irises slides to blue.

"Delphine is here," Bastian warns. "She can't be more than a couple hundred feet away."

So I unfurl my awareness towards Roarke and shove my way inside his mind.

Last time, with Bastian, I was slow and careful. I delved inside the palace of his mind and discovered the many layers of his memories, his subconscious fears and desires. This time I don't have the luxury of going slow—and even if I did, the angry spirit within him doesn't seem to want me.

It's like a dozen storms inside Roarke's mind, each of them throwing me about, tearing through the libraries of his memory and howling at my intrusion.

Out in the real world, I can sense a sudden rise in tension. There's a howl from a feral vampire; a protective snarl from a strong werewolf. Fur brushes against my back, and I sense that my mates are moving in to protect me, even as I fight my own battle within Roarke's mind.

Gathering the power of flames within me, I weave it between my fingers as threads and throw it out in the form of a clumsily-woven shield. It wavers in front of me, haphazardly providing protection as the spirit within Roarke's mind batters me with its rage. Winds throw things my way: tree trunks, heavy boulders, pieces of what looks like a porch railing, but the shield burns through them all, turning them to dust that coats my skin.

I prowl forward, setting a path directly to the center of his mind, looking for the dark presence that's the source of this attack. Holding my hand out at my side, I fill it with more flames and cast the sword spell: "Gladius!"

The flames surge into the form of a sword, white-hot and sharp as a forged blade. The wind around me picks up, throwing more things my way, some of which make it through my shield and hit me in the chest, neck, and shoulder.

But I keep going, seeing a black shadow in the center of the storm, desperate to free Roarke.

As I make my way towards it, bits of memory are flung my way.

Roarke is seven, skipping rocks across a pond; he looks over towards his best friend Kieran and smiles, just before pushing Kieran into the water. Then he's laughing—until a young version of me comes up behind him and pushes him in as well.

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