Page 18 of The Stones for It
A steel band looped my waist and hauled me up against a solid chest. A wall of leathery grey blocked me from the fire, and my face instantly cooled.
“Time to go,” Vrath grunted, dragging me backwards. “The foxfire has taken on a life of its own.”
“We can’t leave him!” I hissed, panic strangling me as I thought about abandoning Neiron to his enemies yet again.
Enemies he only had because he’d saved me from their handsy king.
“We have to,” Vrath snarled in my ear. “He wouldn’t want you to die for him, stubborn mortal.”
But I couldn’t stop myself from shoving at his forearm crushing my middle. Another of my mates was suffering because of me.
The gargoyle seized my legs, clutching me bridal-style to his chest. He ignored my protests and spun from the raging wildfire,sprinting further into the jungle, crashing through bushes and tearing at vines, leaping tall roots and dodging enormous trees.
The fire raced with us.
Chapter eight
Vrath
My jaw clenched reflexively, and I tried in vain not to inhale.
Her. Cursed. Scent.
It should have been the furthest thing from my twisted mind as we fled the foxfire created by my closest ally. Instead, all I could think about was the source of that distracting scent—vanilla cut through with hot iron.
Sweet and deadly.
And spiced with my earthy notes.
The only reason it affected me was because I’d been so mercilessly teased. One pathetic mortal had tried his best to entice me, and then this feeble creature had taken my tail into her tight, wet heat, strangling the tip until I’d almost embarrassed myself all over her.
As if it could still feel her, my tail twitched as I ran, coated in her essence. I didn’t want to examine why I’d not taken the time to clean it off. Why I left her scent all over me.
It made my cock throb every time I caught it on the breeze.
Her scent matched the addictive flavour of her blood, a metallic sweetness I craved more of. Hungered for.
I wrenched my thoughts back under control with all the brutality that had kept me alive these past decades.
The tiny mortal was soft in my arms, despite her earlier struggles and the sharp glare aimed at my chin. I made the mistake of glancing down at her.
Hard eyes clashed with mine.
I couldn’t help but note the rich coffee shade of her human irises, so different from the dark glow of my crimson ones.
She’d only just stopped her paltry attempts to break my hold as I ran through the Night Forest with her safely pressed to my chest. It had taken a whole ten minutes of her stubbornly fighting me.
Though the feisty creature hadn’t used her knife once, so either she was too afraid of my retaliation, as she should be, or she knew I was trying to save her life.
Heat bathed the backs of my wings, urging me on as I raced ahead of the deadly fire. I’d probably survive a few burns, but the frail little human Neiron had tasked me with protecting would not.
Why were boudas after Neiron? Did it have something to do with the mortal squirming in my arms?
Even those spineless boudas rarely had so many court nobles and their conquered minions attend the Great Hunts. Nowadays, most courts sent a lone fae or two.
A fact I was now regretting.
Having a few trained warriors for back up would have been favourable. I could have stuck one of them on babysitting duty instead of carting around Neiron’s pet myself.
