Page 77 of Centaur Bolt

“You are so tasty, Rafael,” the woman purred.

Rafael? Had I heard that name before? Then her fingers stroked, and my body pushed into them. Lust consumed me. So powerful—even Kiko’s pheromones hadn’t felt like this. And yet, beneath it, was a desperation. A revulsion for what was being done...

Not just to me. I became aware of more sounds, low moans of pain. There were others in the room, two that I could see from the corners of my eyes. They appeared to be strapped to strange devices that held them in position…

My pulse hammered in my throat as the tall thin man raised his hand—balanced on the palm was a glowing orb of light. He moved his fingers, and it became a rope of energy that swirled around him. A single gesture, and it shot out to one of the helpless captives, slashing across his naked body. A scream pierced the air.

I wanted to recoil in horror, but warm wetness engulfed the most sensitive part of me, the tongue lapping along the shaft and dancing just beneath the head—the lust surged through me as the whipped captive screamed, and the air lit with a weird red-hued energy. I drank it in as I thrust into the woman’s warm, wet mouth. It engorged me, fulfilled me, and yet, disgusted me. Twisted who I was to make me something I didn’t want to be.

And as the tall, thin man laughed, I desperately wished to yank myself away from this nightmare. And with a wrench, I managed it. Fled into the darkness to escape an evil I didn’t understand.

My pulse pounded as I blinked myself awake. With a sense of desperation, I focused on Kiko’s steady breathing to anchor me in time and space.

The nightmare had seemed so real.

It just added to the questions piling up within me. And in that moment, I remembered who Rafael was—he was the man who’d set Marcus free.

But why had I dreamed of him?

Yet another thing to ask the Watcher. But I had to be careful as to what to say. The last thing I needed was for a mystery to derail my plans for finding Marcus.

And nothing was more important than that.

* * *

As Kiko snored and the hours passed, I dozed. Every time I woke up, I became more determined to get answers.

Finally, I lay and stared at the ceiling. The view outside the window showed no promise of dawn. The clock on the dresser said I still had two hours until the breakfast bell.

I envied Kiko’s ability to sleep. After a further half hour of tossing and turning, I decided another pre-dawn shower seemed sensible. I slipped out of the bed and into the boots Kiko had scrounged for me. Mine were—where? I’d lost them somewhere during that Jump into the past. How was I going to explain the loss of a tee shirt and set of leggings? I was now down to one set, and they were kinda on the grubby side.

Shifters likely were hard on their clothes, but I wasn’t supposed to be a shifter… and I needed to avoid questions that might reach Cara.

The answer came to me when I entered the dorm’s space for things that needed cleaning. The clear window of the washer revealed clothes within it—abandoned to sit overnight. With a generous stab of guilt, I grabbed leggings and a tee from the dryer. I soothed my conscience with the truth that whoever they belonged to could legitimately declare them stolen… Was stealing clothes a talent that a Shade operative could be proud of?

Kinda doubted it. With a sigh, I headed for one of the shower stalls.

The hot water felt amazing, and I scrubbed until my skin was bright pink. Not because of what had happened between me and Kiko, although that was weird enough. But because I had a beast living inside me that I didn’t want, and couldn’t explain.

And it was male.

For just an instant, anxiety rose within me, and my hands shook. I closed my eyes as the water cascaded over my shoulders, and I pushed the angst away. I had no time for it.

In my experience, an anxiety attack could not be forced into submission. So I didn’t expect it to work.

But it did.

The main door opened. I braced myself—had the owner of the clothing returned?

“Hey, Riley. That you in there?” Kiko, sounding sleepy.

I relaxed. “Didn’t think you’d be up so early.”

Rustling noise, a bit of a pause, and then, “Me neither. You going to talk to Cara?”

The Satyr might be obsessed with sex, but she wasn’t dumb. “Yep. I need some answers.”

“That you do,” she agreed. “You’ve got some serious questions to ask. As long as we don’t miss breakfast.” A moment later, the toilet flushed.

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