Page 4 of Moon Bound

“Don’t touch her!” a roar comes from an unrecognizable source. The raven is air-born again, trench coat flapping in the wind as he pulls back the string of a handmade bow and shoots a row of feather spears toward us. Taking advantage of my split second of inattentiveness, the princess receives the advantage she needs to buck me aside and disappear in a blur that not even I can track.

“Little help over here?!” Torst shouts, leaping and failing to grab for the shifter’s coat. I roll my eyes.

“Kinda busy,” I growl, pushing upright. “Besides, if you can’t handle a fucking bird, I’m demoting you.”

Leaving Torsten to sort it out, I turn towards the boundary line, presuming she’d run home. Yet the shifters I find there, all standing in a line to watch, make no move to intervene or aid the princess stalking towards me. She didn’t flee but stayed to take on a vampire? She’s either insane or incredibly confident. Or the third likely option, so overcome with bloodlust and anger, sanity and confidence didn’t matter.

In a momentary lapse in judgment, as I try to make sense of her behavior, my limbs fall slack, costing me greatly. She runs at me, twisting beneath my attempt to grab her, and shoves her shoulder into my abdomen with as much power as she can manage. With a curse, I stumble back a few paces before righting myself to allow her to do it again…and again.

Each time may appear as a weakness, but I use every hit to log information-- to watch how she moves and understand how she strikes. After four hits, the next time she rushes forward, I dart aside and grab her throat from behind, ramming her petite body backward and flush against mine. Not wasting a second, I bite into my wrist and hold the dripping wound above her lips as I tilt her head back with the other hand.

Eyes flashing, she thrashes, seemingly more at war with herself, between attempting to shake the droplets away and the tiny pink tongue that pokes out to taste her bottom lip. A groan resonates from deep within her being. I give her a moment to adjust before slowly lowering my wrist to her responsive mouth. Almost in slow motion, I watch her as lips part eagerly, a half-second before they firmly affix to my skin in a tight seal, and she begins to suck, preventing the wound on my wrist from healing. Then, as the sensations of her ravenous mouth suckling at my wrist and her tongue sweeping against my skin almost reverently, despite her hunger, bring my every nerve ending to life, it’s my turn to groan.

As she feeds, almost frantically, the world around us seems to vanish. My vision tunnels as I become uniquely aware of all five of my senses. Unique because, strangely, it is as if all my senses are honed into this very moment. I hear nothing but her low growls and gentle sucking from her lips. Scent nothing but the enticing aroma of the blood from her wounds mingles with her sweat, filling my nostrils. Feel nothing but the curve of her ass pushing against my crotch while her lips caress the now-sensitive skin inside my wrist. And despite the overwhelming desire to sink my teeth into the tender flesh of her neck, I taste nothing but my own blood as I unwittingly bite down on my tongue to prevent myself from pressing closer to her.

I fight against the sudden flush of warmth spreading through my body as the hatred that once permeated the air starts to wane and becomes…something I can’t quite explain. But I do know that in this very moment, I’d give her the entirety of my life force to sate her hunger.

Her struggle eases, and the vibrant yellow hue of her eyes gradually recedes, giving way to the familiar deep blue. She swallows thickly with a bliss-filled sigh, and regretfully, I start to pull my wrist away. Except, she doesn’t draw back. I doubt she even realizes where she is as those navy eyes flutter closed, and she merely stands there, completely relaxed, her head resting against my chest and my palm still beneath her chin.

I swallow past the sudden dryness in my throat.She really is quite something. I forget my ability to blink as the moonlight shines upon her delicate porcelain features, catching the way her pale lashes fan across her cheeks. Part of me was jealous of the Moonlight, at how it caressed her every feature and especially at the way it won’t be pushed away when the princess realizes it was holding her in its embrace. Because despite being aware that there has never been anyone quite like her, laying my eyes on her was an entirely different matter. She was unique and unparalleled, possessing a vampire's ethereal paleness and a wolf's untamed fierceness.

Her eyes drift open and gaze at me with an emotion I can’t quite name until she quickly elbows me in the ribs so hard, I hear a crack, and she shoots out of my grip. I huff out a wheeze and remain still so my rib bone can knit together again. I take it she isn’t accustomed to saying, ‘Thank you.’ But at least my dick has taken the hint and stopped straining against my zipper.

“I said,” a deep, graveled voice sounds beside my ear, “don’t fucking touch her.” A sword-like slice cuts across the front of my neck. My legs threaten to give out, but I don’t let them, not before I toss myself backwards in the hopes of taking down my attacker too. Except there’s no one, only plumes of black smoke that depart around me. My back hits the ground, a splatter of blood spurting from my throat. My head rolls aside to see my men in similar situations. Chase slashed at the wrists, and Torsten, with a feather, speared into his heart. A fucking feather. Then there’s the raven flapping his wings to reappear as a male before the princess. Blood curdles in my ears, punctuated by the shallow thump of my heartbeat, but through it all, I manage to extend my supernatural hearing.

“This is your chance,” the raven urges, his hands wrapping around her biceps. “Return to the hut, I’ll meet you there and explain.”

“Return to the hut…” the princess repeats back hollowly. She glances towards the boundary line, her movements sluggish as if in a daze. Or, since I know better, she’s in a hungover-like state, akin to a food coma when a vamp gorges on too much blood. The raven shakes her, desperate for her to heed his warning.

“The vampires have overstepped. If they want you, there are rules. Supernatural laws even these blood-thirsty savages must abide by.”

“Want me?” Her gaze slowly shifts towards the mountains. They can’t be seen at this distance, but instinctually, she knows where they are. She’s one of us. She deserves to know where she belongs. Pressing myself to heal quickly, I force my torso upright and push myself onto shaky legs.

“I’ve got you,” Chase appears at my side. His wrists have just healed, the raised pink scars yet to settle back into his skin, so when he offers one to me, I take to lapping up the spilled blood like a bottom feeder. Desperate for scraps.

“No one hears about this,” I mutter, leaning on Chase to make our way to Torsten. Yanking the spear from his heart, he gasps and shoots upright, choking out his words.

“You’re damn right,” Chase agrees. “Absolutely no one hears about this. The king would have our heads on spikes if he found out we’ve had our asses kicked by some feathery fucker.”

“He still might if we don’t complete our mission.” I snarl at the thought of Lorcan sending us out here with little-to-know information.

Lorcan, the last remaining Elder, appears as youthful as the rest of us, despite his ancient status. His jet-black hair is always meticulously slicked back in a style that might be considered fashionable if it weren't for its austere nature. The bold geometry of his quiff highlights the sharp angles of his cheekbones. At first glance, his eyes seem as black as his hair, but up close, they are a deep shade of navy blue. Regardless, his penetrating gaze feels like it's drilling into my skull whenever he stares at me, making it impossible to discern his emotions. There's a reason he's been our king for so long; I can't imagine the weight of the decisions he's had to make throughout the years, and I don’t envy him for it.

“Wait here,” I nod, and with newfound strength, slink towards the raven, still trying to plead his case.

“I will only ever have your best interest at heart-” he’s muttering to the princess. I grimace all over again.

“If I may interject,” I slide in a step closer with an easier smirk than I feel. Losing isn’t in my repertoire, and I feel like I’ve fucked up from all angles since I arrived here. Taking the princess’ hand in mine, her navy-blue eyes swing to mine. My blood is in her system, and if anyone can make her see sense right now, it’s me.

“I believe my men and I approached this situation from the wrong angle,” I begin. The raven scoffs, glaring at me from the corner of my eye. I ignore him. His opinion is null and void. In fact, I shift, so he’s hidden behind my back. “We were expecting to fight off an entire shifter camp for you, hence the cage for your protection. But the truth is, you want to know what’s out there. As much as you want to know what’s in here,” I place my index finger in the center of her chest. “Is that right, Aspen?”

“I didn’t give you my name,” she takes an unsure step back. I allow her to retract her hand.

“You did not. Your father did.” Aspen’s façade falters. The mask she wears to act like she isn’t affected by the world around her. She’s as interested in her origins just as much as the vampires are curious about her. The infamous princess of two rival species. It’s a wonder she wasn’t surrounded by guards and was so easy to find, for that matter. Not that I’m complaining. “Join us at the castle. We have plenty to tell you and much more to teach you.”

Seconds tick by while I wait for a response. Like a looming shadow, the unwanted male shifts back into a raven, flapping through a plume of smoke to nestle on Aspen’s shoulder. She tilts her head into his wing, and whether she meant to or not, I clench my jaw against the urge to stab the bird right through the heart. She trusts this damn bird, so I’ll either have to accept or kill him. I’ll opt for the latter.

"Perhaps you should have started with that,” Aspen finally announces. Striding for her discarded backpack, she swings it onto her shoulder and raises a brow at Chase and Torsten, lingering nearby. “Come on then, and try not to fall behind."

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