Chapter 6

RYKER

My paws flex in the sticks and debris just outside the cabin, the sharp points cutting into the pads. It's a welcome feeling when attempting to stay put until she's asleep. Her sobbing echoes through the crisp night air, thundering through my ears despite me being in the tree line. Turns out, supernatural hearing isn't always a benefit, and in times like this, I wish I could switch it off, much like my shadows or my form. It's completely controllable at all times if you have the strength and willpower.

I start to pace, walking between two of the large oaks on the border of the property, keeping an ear out for anything that isn't her. Most animals know to steer clear of the cabin, my presence alone something that deters even the stupid creatures that call the woods home. Demons, on the other hand, they would sense her sorrow from miles away and be tempted to get a taste. A mere slither of her darkness would feed them for days, weeks, even.

Waiting until the coast is clear, I shift, pulling the set of clothes I left on the porch back on before stepping inside. Soft snores sound from my room down the hall, the sadness still bursting through her slumber. The scent of her arousal almost broke me earlier, like a siren's call. I didn't even realize my body had stood up and started walking toward her until it was too late, moving of its own volition, leaving me to rein myself in.

It was harsh, the words spilling from my lips. She has no idea just how wrong those words were, that if I could, I would have her body tethered to mine for the rest of eternity, catering to her every need. I would kill to have my cock nestled inside her day in and day out for the rest of time. How much I want to breed her, my body fucking craving hers.

Stalking down the hall, I hear a soft cry. Her breathy voice pulls at the resolve that's already more than slipping. I push open the door to find she's half out of the sheets, spooning the pooled material. Her pillow is soaked, tears making the dark grey material appear black beneath her cheeks. I don't even attempt to stop my hands from reaching out, running my fingers along her exposed thigh. A grin tips my lips as I watch her skin react to my touch, littering her skin with tiny little goosebumps.

I'm more than aware I should stay out of her nightmares, but the way her body trembles has me curious as to what's happening in that mind of hers. One of the perks of being a hellhound is the ability to enter one's nightmares if you catch them at the right time. I sit beside her, my warm hands on her skin as I shut my eyes, delving into her subconscious.

She's standing naked in the clearing as the two men approach, but she doesn't move a muscle, crying out for me. Her voice is shaky as she pleads for me to hurry, her arms covering her chest and between her thighs.

Speeding ahead, I wrap my fingers around the first man's throat, slamming him to the ground. Using as much force as I can, I push down on his windpipe until the life starts to drain from him. Getting to kill this fucker once was satisfying, let alone twice. He chokes and splutters, his eyes wide as that last little thread of life force escapes his body.

Lyra screams ahead of me, the second man almost reaching her. Jumping up from the ground, I run forward, getting there just in time. His outstretched hand falls mere inches from her stomach as I haul him back. He starts to spout some shit, but all I hear is her—the rapid breaths, the rising heartbeat. Her addictive brand of fear hums through my body, making my dick painfully hard, pushing against my zipper. Not the ideal time to be cracking a hard-on.

Grasping the man's lower jaw, I rip it down, tearing the tendons and cartilage in one hit. Blood pours down my arms, dripping into a pool of crimson below us. I could let him die slowly, allowing the blood loss to take him from not only his life on Earth's plane but in her nightmare as well. As satisfying as it would be to watch the color drain from his skin, I have a trembling, frightened little sister watching my every move. Swiftly reaching down, I snap his neck to the side, his body dropping to the ground with a thud.

Lyra's chest heaves, her breathing coming out as a soft pant. I would sell what soul I have left to be the reason she's breathless like this. For the chance to sink my teeth into her skin, leaving my permanent mark for all to see. To have the taste of her blood flooding my tongue before I devour her whole.

"You came," she whispers, wiping the tears from her reddened cheeks. "I was calling for you like I always do, Ryks, when I am at my lowest of fucking lows. But you never come."

"I know you do."

"What the fuck do you mean? I have lived in hell for the last eight years, Ryker. EIGHT YEARS. Alone with only my thoughts and they are not a space that keeps me safe."

I step closer to her, breathing in her scent. The delectable taste of fear flows through my senses, the temptation to wrap my bloodied hands around her delicate throat almost winning out. Oh, how she would look covered in the blood of her enemies under the light of the moon. The vision does nothing for the ache pulsing through my cock. I have always needed her, craved her, but this is pure fucking torture.

Her eyes flit from mine to the tree line, the very same one I chased her through. Only then, I was a hellhound, a bear-sized beast hunting down his prey, not a man standing in front of a trembling woman who tempts his beast without even knowing it.

"What are you thinking about, hmm?"

She looks up at me through her lashes, the hint of defiance softening, morphing into something else. It's something much sweeter, delectable, even. Addictive down to its very core, a sin in its own right. Lust.

This is the very moment I should leave, drop her nightmare and leave her to rest. She may not think this is real in the morning, but I will. The memory of her running from me naked, the way her body looks under the light of the moon will be seared into my mind forever. I'm crossing the invisible line that has been there since she walked through those big oak doors all those years ago, one I swore I would never cross. For her sake, not mine.

I'm a demon, my control teetering on the edge at all times. I need to stay away for her safety, her life too fragile to welcome my world in. Her nightmares, on the other hand, keep her safe. She can't physically die. Whatever happens in here has no physical effect on her, other than a natural fear response or leaving her in a pool of her own release if she comes. That thought alone spits words from my mouth.

"It's just a dream, is it not? A nightmare laced with your deepest thoughts?"

She worries her lip, the skin tearing from the assault of her teeth as the edges of her mouth kick up ever so slightly. Her mind would be racing, thoughts flitting as fast as the thrumming organ in her chest. The moonlight catches on her curves, willing me closer.

Her nose scrunches, wrinkling between her brows before she shakes her head. Her resolve is slipping too, almost meeting my own. I can feel it, the way she's trying to process her thoughts. Hellhounds can't read minds by any means, but the way she keeps looking at the woods tells me everything I need to know.

"You want to run, little sister? Then fucking run. But don't expect restraint when I catch you," I snarl, the scent of her arousal flooding my senses. Those primal parts of me itch to come out, to chase her. Devour her. To mark her with my fucking teeth as I force my knot into her.

She spins on the spot, running toward the darkness without a second thought. The movement has my hellhound side pacing beneath the surface, clawing at my skin for its chance to hunt. Fire flows through my veins, awakening the more primal side of me, its eyes set on her.

Giving her a minute or so for a head start, I focus on her scent, inhaling as deep as I possibly can. Her lust is so thick, you would expect a visible trail of something flowing behind her. I always had an inkling, something telling me the girl saw me as I saw her, as more than just a protector, a friend, a confidante in times of despair.

She ducks and weaves through the trees, hitting stray branches on her way through. They slice at her skin, leaving slashes of crimson, willing me to have a taste. The girl is quick, but I catch up to her in less than a minute, holding myself back for a little. I want her to feel that thread of fear, to truly enjoy her fucked up little nightmare.

My fingers lace through her wavy, auburn hair, pulling until she falls back into me. Her curves meld to my frame, like a puzzle piece made for me, the more human side of me, all 6'7 of it. The feeling alone solidifies where this is heading, and I have no control left to stop it even if I wanted to.

"I told you what would happen if you ran," I growl into her ear, the rasp near painful in my throat as I spin her body to face mine and force her gaze up. "But you ran anyway, didn't you?"

"It…it's just a dream. I know it is. Those men, I watched them die last night. I heard them take their last breaths," she whispers.

I walk us both forward until her back meets one of the large trees, slamming her into it with a little too much force. She winces but doesn't look away, her eyes focused solely on mine. Bucking my hips forward, I grind my cock into her stomach, watching her eyes widen and her cheeks flush. Such a pretty shade of pink.

"Tell me, Lyra…" I grin as I drop my knees to the ground, my hands running along the sides of her body on my way down. Nipping at the flesh of her thigh, I run my tongue along the scars littering each one. Some are covered with tattoos, the black ink hiding the worst of them, the ones made by my father that night. She trembles beneath my touch, her emotions too frantic to gauge. "What were you hoping for when you ran from me?"

Her fingers reach out, lacing through my hair. She tastes just as divine as I thought she would. Addictive. Sweet. A heady mix that feeds my addiction to this woman even deeper than I thought possible, and this is dulled. Nightmare walking is nowhere near the intensity of Earth's plane. It's as though a light haze is placed over the senses. Even more of a reason why I need to leave as soon as I can, because leaving this was already going to be hard enough. But now that I have had a small taste of her, there's no way I will be able to stay in complete control.

"I was hoping for you."

Within seconds, I have one of her thighs resting on my shoulder, her pussy completely exposed. She's perfect, glistening in the moonlight from our little game of hunter and prey. Running my tongue from her ass to her clit, I revel in the taste of her, a low growl ripping from deep within my chest. This woman is fucking heaven.

She arches herself into me, chasing the pressure as I devour her whole. Sliding two fingers into her, I toy with her pussy, inching them in with every roll of her hips. The sounds escaping her get louder and louder, echoing through the silence of the night like a haunted melody. Cries of pleasure are laced with screams and curses, my name amongst them. Grazing her clit with my teeth, I nip at it just as she clenches around my fingers, her release flowing through her hard and fast.

Her body still twitches as I rise back up, wrapping both of her thighs around my waist. Making quick work of my jeans, I pull my throbbing cock from its confines, relief flooding me almost instantly. The teeth of the zipper are sure to have left indents along my cock, bringing a new meaning to ribbed for her pleasure.

"You can't hold me up like this, Ryker," she breathes, barely audible as she looks anywhere but me.

I clench my jaw, trying to tamper down the rage that bubbles just beneath the surface. She's fucking perfect; doesn't she see that? Lining myself up to her entrance, I swipe the head of my cock in her release before slamming myself inside her with one thrust.

"Don't you fucking dare," I moan, with both my hands grasping where her thighs meet her ass and spreading her wider. My efforts to hold back are useless, my body moving at its own pace. Her body grates up and down the rough bark of the tree, the scent of blood filtering through, but she doesn't stop, meeting every thrust. She grazes the hem of my t-shirt, fumbling to get it over my head but snagging on my arms.

"Wrap your legs around me," I manage to grit out through clenched teeth, letting her go to rip the blood-soaked top from my body. Her eyes widen at the view, my muscles bunched tight with each roll of my hips.

Her soft curves are marked with the blood of those who dared to touch her, the crimson a stark difference to her exposed skin. Reaching up to her throat with one hand, I keep the other holding her ass, pulling her into me harder and harder. Those stunning green eyes widen as my grip on her neck tightens, her already rapid pulse slamming through my fingertips.

My knot begins to pulse, the feeling almost painful. It has never swollen during sex, considering I haven't touched a soul since the day I died. I can count on one hand the number of times it has swelled when I stroked it, usually when I'm standing over her while she sleeps. It seems to have its own little addiction to the girl. I've slid my hand up and down my cock to the vision of her, but nothing has ever been close to this.

"Come for me, Lyra," I snarl, my pace feral as I chase the high both of us crave. Her nails grip into my chest, firm enough to leave a mark while she stares straight through to my very soul. She's close, her walls clamping around me with force.

Tears start to flow down her flushed cheeks before she cries out, her voice cracking with incomprehensible curses. A sudden rush of warmth flows from her pussy, soaking the front of me completely. That's all it takes for my release to meld with hers, a complete mess. My knot pulses, heat licking through the skin as it swells inside her, locking my cock in place.

We are a mess of heavy breaths, slick with sweat, neither of us willing to look away from the other, as if the moment we break eye contact, this all ends. Pinning her to the tree with my hips, I wipe the stray hair stuck to her skin, folding it behind her ear. She leans into my touch, needing it as much as I do in this moment. It makes what I am about to do so much harder.