Page 11 of Fate Unchained

It had been far too long since he’d had a female in his bed. Damn, it had been at least a year. Maybe two. That had to be why he’d reacted to her this way. It was time to head home and meet up with some of the women who enjoyed his particular attentions.

He dragged one of the sleeping skins over and folded it up, tucking it under her head. It would be better than having her head lying on the hard floor.

She shivered violently, and he stood. Most likely her clothes were damp, but he wasn’t about to strip her. She groaned and winced but didn’t wake.

He tossed another log on the fire. What was he going to do with her? All of this could be intentional. Maybe she hadn’t made a mistake and trapped herself in with him on purpose. Maybe she wanted him near her so he’d drop his guard, and she could perform another incantation. This one a lot more dangerous.

Time to test the trap himself.

He left her side and crouched near the perimeter. The slight tang of sulfur, the telltale sign of magic, tinged the air. He didn’t know magic, or how it really worked, other than the source for most magicwielders was the light coming from the smaller of the two suns. Yet it was night right now.

He didn’t think she was a magicwielder. She didn’t have their sheen of arrogance, for one. And he’d never seen a magicwielder read a spell off a piece of paper. But her hands had glowed, so she had some kind of magic.

He knew two females with night magic. Both were mated to the vulk—Triska and Briony. Neither performed magic like this, though. Triska’s magic absorbed other magic around her, something she’d used in their most recent battle to help them. And Briony healed. Neither spoke strange words nor called forth symbols from a page.

He’d seen what glittered from her page and created this cage around him. A rune. And he knew a bit about runes.

He growled and walked the perimeter, making it appear by tossing dirt at it. One hour slipped into two, and the night wore on.

Snarling, he punched at the cage perimeter. Light flared, and searing pain streaked from his fist up his arm. He hissed and cradled it to his chest. His eyes narrowed. What was this magic?

The storm strengthened, howling across the cave skylight. It had to be a full blizzard, showing signs of increasing, not decreasing. At least the chance of more humans showing up was low because no one could last long outside in this storm, but before the snow stopped, he needed to break free. No one was going to ambush him again.

He sighed and laid back on his pile of skins, placing his hands under his head and watching the smoke curl lazily up and out of the cave. He’d figure out how to get out.

He’d lain down near the woman, and as the night wore on, she curled onto her side, and it was clear she slept. She slowly inched closer and closer to him, closing the gap between them until she snuggled up against his ribs. Her hand landed on his chest, exactly where she put it earlier. He didn’t shrug it off.

She murmured, and her breath tickled his ribs. “I’ve never felt like this, Norville.” He breathed in her arousal, a thick vanilla-tinged scent.

He didn’t care who the uit Norville was; he was going with it. “Oh yeah?” He didn’t recognize his own voice. It was richer. And it rolled off his tongue like a purr.

“You’re making me feel good. Much better than all the other times.” She moaned, and her lips brushed his ribs as she nestled closer. “I want more.”

All right, now she had his interest. He rarely found humans attractive, but she was one of the exceptions, even with her hair looking like a wet mop stuck to her head. She had high, angled cheekbones, a full, pink mouth, and delicate brows which arched expressively as she’d worried about him being injured. He bet she was one of those people who showed everything they thought on their faces. Not like him—he made sure no one ever knew what he was thinking. He’d learned how to do that when he was a small kid. If people knew they’d hurt you, they’d just do it again.

Her hand drifted along his chest and down his stomach. “I’m so warm.” As he watched her hand drift lower and lower, his trousers suddenly felt two sizes too small.

She stirred right before she reached his waistband, and her eyes fluttered open. She turned and blinked up at him, looking like an owl. Her mouth dropped open.

His mouth curled into a slow half-smile. “Who’s Norville, human?”

She screamed and scrambled backward. She pointed at him. “You talk!”

“I do? Huh.”

Her mouth opened and closed several times. “No book ever mentioned the vulk talk.”

He stretched and sat, eyeing her. “Your head feel all right?” Out of all the questions he wanted her to answer, why had he asked that one? He didn’t care if she’d injured herself trying to trap him.

She goggled at him, her mouth dropping open again. “What?” Her brows knitted together as she touched the back of her head. “Big bump, but otherwise, I think I’m all right.” She paused. “Thank you for asking.”

He stood. “At least you’re a polite kidnapper.”

“You’re not a kid. I wouldn’t trap a child.”

He shrugged. “Vulknapper, then.”

Her cheeks flamed red. “It’s not my primary profession.”

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