Chapter 29

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Fuck you, Daisy. Fuck you, Ordell.

Why hadn’t he told me he was some kind of shifter?

I’d met plenty of lycan in the past, and Quinn’s pack—shifters like no other—were friends of mine. I’d have understood. But no. Secrets. Always with the fucking secrets.

I wove through trees at a sprint.

I hated forests.

Forests and wolves and monsters.

A roar shook the night.

Of course, he had my scent.

Of course, he was hunting me.

This night couldn’t get any worse.

I spotted a path up ahead. Paths were good. Paths led to buildings and stuff. If I could get into the castle, then?—

My boot snagged on a tree root, and I fell, catching myself with my palms to avoid face-planting on the earth.

I scrambled to my feet and froze as a sharp crack sliced the air followed by a rolling, rumbling growl.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I turned slowly to face the beast, my hands in the air, palms outward in a placating gesture.

I’d seen many kinds of shifter before but none like the one standing in front of me. Ordell wasn’t on all fours to start with; he was upright and over seven feet. A fucking bipedal shifter covered in hair with talons, too many teeth, and burning blue eyes ringed in gold. Eyes fixed on me. His lips pulled back from his teeth, and a low snarl raised goosebumps over my skin. My breath came short and shallow as I kept my gaze on a point just below his eyes, not wanting to challenge him.

“Hey, you…It’s me, remember? Orina. You like me. You definitely don’t want to hurt me…” I took a slow, deliberate step back.

His gaze dropped to my feet, and he growled louder.

“Good, Ordell…You’re a good guy, remember?” I took another step away, and he snapped his teeth. I froze, chest so tight it was hard to draw breath. “Remember we’re friends. You like me. We hug.”

His growl died, and his nostrils flared as he inhaled.

“That’s right. You know me. Orina. Your friend.”

A new sound lit up his chest now, not a growl but more of a purr. A musky fragrance hit me, and the purring increased.

His stance relaxed, and his huge hand went to his crotch. Oh…No way.

He was hard, huge, and looking at me.

No…I shook my head. “Ordell. No.”

Fuck this. I turned and ran, but I didn’t make it far.

He slammed into me from behind, taking me down. I was pinned, trapped as his claws raked at my clothes, burning my skin. There was no doubt what he wanted from me, and terror spiked sharp and jarring. “No! Stop! Ordell, no!”

Fiery pain exploded in my shoulder, and a bloodcurdling scream burst from my throat.

He’d bitten me. He’d— “No! No!” I kicked and squirmed, trying to get free as he tore at my leggings, his pants and grunts eclipsing my protests. Cold air kissed my bare thighs. I screamed again, and he palmed my head and slammed my face to the ground, pinning me. I felt his arousal against me.

Terror and panic squeezed my lungs. “Don’t. Please…don’t…”

Another voice cut through the night. “Ordell. Stop!”

Ordell growled, the sound one of menace, and the world lit up bright orange.

I was suddenly free.

For a moment, I couldn’t move, my body a trembling mass saturated with adrenaline.

“Orina, run!”

Hemlock? Hemlock was here!

I scrambled up, gathering the torn fabric of my outfit around me to see Hemlock standing several meters away, palms up and glowing while Ordell floated two feet off the ground, his body in suspended animation.

“Go!” he ordered. “I can’t hold him for much longer. Take the path. Follow it. NOW!”

I ran.

My shoulder burnedwhere Ordell had bitten me, his teeth marks deep and crimson against my skin but already healing. I cleaned the wounds anyway, then pulled on fresh clothes. Was Hemlock okay? How had he held Ordell in the air like that? He had abilities, obviously. Ordell had said they weren’t pure human, but this…I hadn’t expected this.

It was an hour before I heard movement in the corridor outside my room. I hurried out in time to see Hemlock unlock his door. He was hunched over, one hand clasped to his chest. And was that blood?

“Fuck!” I rushed over to him.

“No…” He tried to wave me off, grunting in pain when the action tugged at his wounds. “I can?—”

“Shut up.” I glared up at him. There was so much that I wanted to say—thank you for saving me, fuck you for not telling me the truth about you guys, and thank you again for fucking saving me—but all that could wait. “Just shut up and let me do this, okay?”

He nodded mutely, and I followed him into his room. The drapes were open, the cozy space bathed in moonlight. Rumpled bedsheets, desk cluttered with books and notepaper. More books on the floor by his bed.

He reached over his shoulder and tore off his shirt with an aching cry, and I bit back a gasp at the golden veins branching across his skin and crisscrossing over the deep claw marks running across his torso.

“The drawer.” He fell to his knees with another cry. “The whip.”

I moved on autopilot to retrieve his whip and held it out to him, confused and numb. What the fuck was going on here?

He took it, and I stepped away as he brought his arm up to lash at his back. The motion yanked at his chest wound, and he let out a strangled cry, swallowing a gasp and a sob. The golden veins on his skin burned brighter.

“Orina…please…” He held out the whip.

I took a step back. “No. I can’t.”

He lifted his head, eyes blazing with a tumult of emotions I couldn’t read. “You wanted to help, so fucking help me. Hit me. Do it, or we’re all fucking dead.”

I didn’t understand any of this, but my gut told me to go with it. I took the whip, positioned myself behind him, took a deep breath, and brought it down on his beautiful skin.

“Harder!”

I hit him again.

“Are you trying to fucking tickle me?”

Dammit! I hit him again and again, something dark and satisfied unfurling inside me with each thwack and grunt. Over and over until the golden veins dimmed and died, until it was just his soft grunts and my heavy breaths of exertion. But soon his grunts turned to moans of pleasure, and the throb between my thighs registered.

What was I doing? I dropped the whip. Done.

His shoulders heaved, and he slowly pulled himself to his feet. I stepped around him so I could see his face. But my gaze was drawn to his torso, bloody but unmarred.

He’d healed. How?

My gaze dropped lower, to the V of his Adonis belt and the bulge of his arousal, thick and long where his pants hugged it.

“You want to help me with that too?” he asked gruffly, no emotion, no inflection.

I licked my lips and forced myself to look him in the eyes. “Go clean up and then we talk.”

He slow-blinked. “Not tonight.” He walked away and locked himself in the washroom.

I waited.

There was no way I was leaving without answers.

He emerged ten minutes later, freshly showered in black boxers and an undershirt.

“Doesn’t it hurt? Your back?”

“I’m used to it.” He crawled onto his bed and lay on his front.

I waited. Long seconds passed, but he didn’t say anything. His breathing evened out. Was he asleep?

Motherfucker, he was.

I should go back to my own room, but the thought of being alone tonight didn’t appeal. I hated to admit it, but I was scared.

The bed was large enough for two, so I climbed up and lay beside him. He didn’t stir, so I rolled to face him and closed my eyes. So many questions, so much to talk about, but I was exhausted, and so was Hemlock, so the questions would have to be a tomorrow problem.

I wokeat some point trapped beneath a warm arm, soft snores teasing my ear. I drifted off again and surfaced later as little spoon, Hemlock’s breath warm on my nape. His thick arousal was pressed to my ass.

I contemplated moving, but it was warm and cozy, and I was sleepy.

The next time I woke, the world was a predawn gray, and Hemlock sat in the armchair facing the bed, watching me.

I watched him right back, my breath snagging in my throat at the intensity of his regard.

The chill of the morning registered, acute, without his warm body to stave it off. I swallowed past the undecipherable emotions that tightened my throat. “Are you coming back to bed? I’m cold.”

His eyes flinched, and my breath stalled because what if he said no? What if he told me to leave? And why did it matter so damn much to me?

But he didn’t speak. He unfurled his lithe frame from the chair and padded around the bed.

The mattress dipped behind me, then his body was pressed to mine, spooning me again. I lifted my arm to allow him to slide his over my waist and relaxed against him, closing my eyes once more.

I fell asleep to the steady rhythmic beat of his heart.