Page 16 of Blaze

###

BLAZE

By the time I catch up to Ramson’s retreating back, I’m panting with exertion. I’m fast, but he’s faster. Or maybe that’s not true. Maybe it’s the aftereffects of being chased, captured, screwed back to health, and dragged through a different dimension. It’s a lot for one girl to accomplish in such a short amount of time. The journey here should have taken weeks, if not longer, but we came through in a matter of hours. Maybe this is the cost, to save time at the expense of your own weariness. I feel like I can sink into the rich fabric of a royal bed and stay there for a month. And, strangely enough, I want Ransom there beside me. Well, correction: mytraitorousbody wants him, even if my mind rebels against it.

I catch Ransom’s elbow before he can disappear around a corner and make a break for the exit. At this hour, the castle gates are closed, but if he’s determined, he’ll find a way past the guards. He stills under my touch, but the line of tension in his back doesn’t vanish. He’s coiled, ready to burst into his canine form at any moment, shredding the clothing the huntsmen had loaned him to bits. I have to admit that he looks good in them. The lines of the trousers emphasize how lean he is, and the white training shirt leaves little to the imagination, hugging his torso like a second skin, emphasizing every muscle.

“Where are you going?” I pant.

“Away from that room,” he says in a terse undertone. “I’m done with being stared at like a sideshow attraction.”

I chew my lip guiltily. Since arriving here, I did notice others staring and I said nothing. Largely because it was a lot offemalesomeones staring, and I’d been trying to square the possessive edge to my thoughts with the sheer absurdity of the situation. I’ve known them for all of a day. Well, months, if you count the times they’d chased me, which I don’t.

“Can you blame them?” I ask. “The only exposure they’ve had to hellhounds is the sack of Ascor over a decade ago. Knowing you can look like us underneath it all... it takes some getting used to.”

“And what do you think it was like for us?” he snaps, hands balling into fists at his sides. “This world is blinding, reeking, and loud!”

“What?” I ask, bewildered.

He rounds on me, and the expression on his face is so feral, I take an involuntary step away from him, my back hitting the wall with an audible smack. He’s on me faster than I can blink, his arms caging me against the stone. I haven’t allowed myself to really examine him since learning the trick he and Axion pulled on me. So close, I can’t help but marvel at his beauty. He’s the color of a dusky twilight, covered in rippling muscle, and fairly exudes leashed animal potential. His eyes burn like coals at the center of a grate, full of fury and an alien sense of want. My pulse slams through my veins and I clench my thighs as heat surges south. I want his cock in me again. That’s the shameful truth. I let out a shuddering breath when his nose skims my jaw, sampling my scent the way a connoisseur would appreciate a wine’s bouquet. He wedges a knee between my thighs, nudging them apart, a soft growl building in his throat when he catches my arousal on the air.

One of Ransom’s hands drops from the wall. I could duck away from him and escape into my quarters. I’m not far now, and I’m tired. Or Iwasuntil he put his hands on me. Now all I can think about is the want burning under my skin, the ache of my channel as I yearn for his cock. I groan when he cups one of my breasts, weighing it in his large hand thoughtfully.

“Not you, though,” he murmurs. “You smell like home. I can stand being here if you’re nearby.”

“Explain,” I say, flushing with embarrassment when my voice shakes. He undoes the laces on the front of my dress with ease, slipping his hand into the bodice to cup one bare breast, teasing the nipple with his skilled fingers. “What were you talking about? What’s wrong with our world?”

Ransom nuzzles my neck, flicking his tongue over the marks that spiral out from the wound in my shoulder. I belatedly realize that they’re an almost exact duplicate of his. It’s enough to shake me out of my stupor and realize that hiking my skirts in invitationisn’ta good idea. Has he put some sort of claim on me? The biting makes more sense, now that I know he’s a hellhound, but what do the marks mean? I can barely think past the jolt of pure, breathtaking pleasure that radiates through my body when his mouth makes contact with the marks. It’s like having his fingers inside me again, working me to a bone-melting climax. I’m close to the edge already, and he’s barely touched me. Every pluck on my nipple is like a cord played on a harp, vibrating through me. My knees shake. He’s going to make me come, right here in the hallway.

“Your world is blinding,” he repeats. “We can barely see here. Your sun is too bright and it burns our eyes. It’s much darker where we live, and we’re not used to the searing light of yours. The scents are too sharp, and the sounds deafening. It drove many of us mad in the beginning, until we could adapt, somewhat. Lycaon makes us fight here anyway. He’s decimated our numbers.”

Gods, that’s horrible. I feel a twinge of empathy for his plight and that of his kind. I’m easily blinded by bright light too. How would I react to having someone puppet my body, forcing me into situations that aren’t just frightening but activelypainful? Then to slip that yolk for a brief time, only to be stared at and treated like a villain, when I had no say in the matter? It has to be... lonely. Frustrating. Even enraging enough to make me stalk away from a meeting that could change it. I skim my fingers lightly over his arm, watching goosebumps travel in their wake.

“I’m sorry. Did Lycaon force you into many battles then?”

Ransom’s hand stills on my breast, the tension returning to his body. He’s taut like a bowstring and I fear he’ll snap. After a moment of thought I place a gentle kiss beneath his ear. It’s the closest thing I can reach, and it works. He relaxes, just a little, but his voice comes out rough when he speaks.

“No. He forces Axion into battle and forces Maddox to spy on his enemies. But he keeps me safe. He values my power more than my battle prowess.”

“Your power as in your healing abilities,” I say, heat creeping up the back of my neck. I remember just how... ahem... effective that healing power can be. And, I realize with a pang of dismay, that I’m not the first one he’s treated that way.

“Yes, in small part. But mostly, he values the potency of my pheromones. Do you know what I do?”

I struggle to recall the conversation with Axion in the caves. He told me, but it takes me a few seconds to order my thoughts enough to remember the particulars. Especially when his hand resumes its magical work on my breast.

“Axion said you... ah... you breed the next generation.”

“Yes, but that’s not the entire story.”

“It’s not?” He shakes his head.

“Do you want to know it?”

I nod mutely. I can’t think when he has his hands on me. My knees wobble again, threatening to go out from under me. Ransom removes his hand from my bodice, laughing softly when I whine in protest. His hands wander further down my body, hiking my skirts when he reaches them. I borrowed this frock from Carmine. The glorified bedsheet I arrived in wasn’t suitable for dinner with royalty. His hand slips beneath the skirts and his fingers slide my clothing out of the way. He slides a finger through my wetness, humming his approval.

“Let me pleasure you. I want a taste. Allow me this, and I’ll tell you what Lycaon uses me for.”

I nod again. I don’t want him to move his hand elsewhere or leave. I need him to touch me, whether or not he tells the story. His fingers delve further through my wetness, sliding with mortifying ease into my channel. His thumb finds the bud at the apex of my sex, feathering easy strokes over it. I slap a hand over my mouth to stifle a moan..

---