Page 81 of Rok's Captive
The fire under my skin burns hotter with every passing moment, every breath that fills my lungs with her scent. The glow beneath my skin pulses faster than mydra-kir, brighter than it should be.
Something is happening to me—something I don’t understand—and before it consumes me completely, I need to take her to safety. To my clan. Despite what I thought before, about the danger, I have to take her there. Kol will know what to do. My brothers will protect her if I…
If I lose control.
I clench my fists at the thought, my claws digging into my palms as I pace some more. My body demands that I stay close, but my mind knows better. I can’t trust myself. Not now.
Jus-teen suddenly grasps my hand again.
I hiss sharply, but again, she doesn’t let go.
Her touch is fire. Pure, searing fire that spreads through my veins, making my muscles tighten and my vision blur.
“Rok,” she breathes. Her voice trembles, but it is insistent.
Her lips move again, shaping sounds I don’t understand, but the tone—the tone is clear. She’s pleading with me. For what, I don’t know, but the desperation in her voice cuts through the haze clouding my mind.
My gaze drops to her hand, small and fragile against mine, and something inside me snaps.
I can’t resist her.
I can’t resist the sight of her, all soft curves and bare skin, her body still flushed from sleep—or from the fire that now burns inside me. This is why she wore those hideous hides. The sight of her bare flesh is undoing me.
With a single, sharp motion, I pull her to me, catching her around the hips and pulling her against my chest. She gasps, her hands flying up to my shoulders, her breath hitching as my claws curl possessively against her back.
Her scent surrounds me, intoxicating and maddening, and I lower my head to press my forehead to hers.
Speak to her.
I close my eyes, concentrating with everything I have, willing the words to form in the mindspace.
“We must go. It is not safe here.”
Her breath catches, her lips parting slightly, and I know she understands.
But she doesn’t agree.
Her hands tighten on my shoulders, and she speaks again, her voice low and urgent. Her forehead presses against mine, an unspoken gesture of connection, of effort, as if she’s trying to push her thoughts into my mind.
Nothing.
The silence in the mindspace is deafening, and frustration surges through me like a storm.
I growl low in my throat, pulling back sharply, and her gaze locks on mine. There’s water in her eyes now, glistening like tiny stars, and the sight of it sends a jolt of alarm through me.
She cannot leak again. I will not allow it. I must fix this.
“Jus-teen,” I growl. She blinks rapidly, the water pooling in her eyes spilling over her cheeks.
Her voice softens, trembling, and she nods slowly, as if accepting something. Then she wriggles, forcing me to set her down though I do not want to, and turns toward her hide coverings.
I watch her as she moves, my body tense, my claws twitching at my sides.
Her clothes are still damp, clinging to her fingers as she pulls them on one piece at a time. My gaze follows every movement. The curve of her back, the line of her legs, the way her hair falls over her shoulders.
Hunger coils in my chest as if I have not just consumed something, and I clench my fists, forcing myself to look away.
But I can’t.
