Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

T omlin's vision blurred red as he collided with Finnar, his world shrinking to the Vultor beneath him. The scent of smoke and Etta's fear filled his nostrils, fueling his rage. This male had dared to threaten his mate. He released Finnar's throat, but only to rear back and slash at him with his newly extended claws.

Finnar howled in pain and bucked, throwing him off. They circled each other, teeth bared and eyes glowing with fury. The other male began to transform, growing larger as his fangs lengthened and fur covered his skin. His Krythian side growled a response, the increased threat only fueling his rage.

With a snarl, Finnar lunged, and he met him head-on, their bodies colliding in a tangle of limbs and rage. Claws raked across flesh, drawing blood and eliciting grunts of pain. His teeth found purchase on Finnar's shoulder, and he bit down hard, tasting copper.

Finnar retaliated, his claws digging into Tomlin's back but the pain was a distant echo as they rolled across the ground, a blur of snapping jaws and slashing claws. His world narrowed to the fight, his only thought to protect his mate. He barely registered the sting of his wounds or the ache in his muscles.

Finnar managed to pin him for a moment, his eyes wild with pain and hatred.

"You don't understand," he hissed. "They took everything from me!"

He roared and surged upward, flipping their positions. He slammed Finnar's head against the ground, stunning him.

"And you tried to take everything from me," he growled.

The fight continued, neither male willing to yield. Blood stained the earth beneath them, their primal battle reducing them to snarling, feral creatures. His claws raked across Finnar's chest, leaving deep furrows and Finnar's teeth snapped shut inches from his throat.

His chest heaved as he pinned Finnar to the ground, his claws digging into the Vultor's shoulders. His Krythian side reveled in the violence, urging him to finish the threat to his mate. But a small part of him, the part that remembered his own struggles, held back from delivering the killing blow.

Finnar's struggles weakened, his eyes losing their wild gleam. The fight drained from him, leaving only a hollow shell of the vengeful creature he'd been moments before.

"End it," Finnar rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. "You've won. Finish what you started."

He dimly heard Etta calling his name, but he couldn't stop. His fingers curled around the Vultor's throat, squeezing. The need to eliminate the threat consumed him.

"Tomlin, stop!" Etta's voice finally cut through the haze of rage. "He let me go. Don't kill him!"

His grip loosened a fraction. The Krythian part of him still screamed for blood, urging him to eliminate the threat to his mate, but as he stared down at his defeated foe, he saw something familiar in those pain-filled eyes. The same anguish he'd carried for years, the weight of loss and isolation.

Finnar's chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. "What are you waiting for? Do it!"

The rage that had consumed him began to ebb, replaced by a bone-deep weariness. The part of him that understood loss, that had grappled with his own darkness, held him back. He finally released the other male and sat back on his heels, his body shuddering.

Finnar's eyes met his, a mix of confusion and resignation in their depths. "Why?" he croaked.

His breath came in ragged gasps as he fought to find his voice. The words, when they came, surprised even him.

"Because I understand," he growled, his voice rough with emotion. "I know what it's like to lose everything."

Etta put her hand on his shoulder, her presence calming his inner turmoil, reminding him of who he was. He was afraid to look at her, afraid he would see horror, or even fear in her eyes, but when he reluctantly met her eyes, he saw only understanding.

"You haven't lost everything," she whispered.

Thank the gods. He turned into her arms, pressing his face against her stomach as she gently stroked his back. Her love surrounded him, stripping away the last remnants of the fury which had consumed him.

He sensed someone approaching and sprang to his feet, pushing Etta behind him, ready to defend her again if necessary. Even when he recognized Seren's scent, he remained alert, not sure how the pack leader would react to the violence.

Seren's eyes went from him to Finnar, sorrow filling his face before his expression hardened. The Vultor lay motionless on the ground. His eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. He was damaged but alive.

"I'll take him from here," Seren said, his voice low and authoritative.

Finnar's eyes snapped open at the sound. He struggled to push himself up, wincing in pain.

"No," he growled. "I won't go back."

"Yes you will. This ends now."

He felt a shift in the air, an invisible pressure emanating from Seren - the power of an alpha asserting dominance over a pack member. Even as an outsider, he could sense its strength.

Finnar trembled, fighting against the compulsion, but the pack leader's will bore down on him, relentless and unyielding.

"Submit," Seren commanded, his voice resonating with power, and Finnar's resistance crumbled.

"Yes, alpha," he whispered, the fight draining out of him.

Seren nodded, satisfied. He bent down and hauled Finnar to his feet, supporting the injured Vultor's weight. He turned to Tomlin and Etta, his expression softening slightly.

"I'm sorry that we had to meet under these circumstances. He will not trouble you again."

He watched as Seren led Finnar away and he knew he should feel relieved, but the undercurrents of pain and anger surrounding the Vultor had struck too close to his own buried grief and memories. His skin felt too tight, too hot.

"Are you okay?" Etta asked softly.

He wrapped his arms around her, drinking in her warmth and scent.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Even when I… lost myself before, I never experienced such rage. And now…"

A shiver skated across his skin and he was suddenly aware that in spite of his injuries he was achingly, painfully erect. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to regain control as the heat continued to build beneath his skin.

"I need… I need a moment," he managed to choke out, forcing himself to step away from her.

But she followed, closing the distance between them, her hands sliding up over his chest. He couldn't restrain a groan, even though he knew he needed to get away, to regain control. He tried to step back again, but she refused to let go of him.

"Let me help," she whispered. "Tell me what you need."

"Need you."

He barely recognized his voice, the words emerging in a ragged growl.

"Then take me," she breathed.

He felt her arousal flaring in response to his, sending another bolt of lust through him. His instinct demanded release and he had no hope of restraining it any longer. His mouth crashed down on hers, swallowing her gasp as his hands tore at her clothing. She returned his kisses with equal fervor, her hands exploring the bare skin of his back and chest. She made a soft, distressed sound when she reached his wounds but he didn't care about the pain. He needed her now.

Some tiny shred of sanity prevented him from taking her right then and there, on the bare ground. He managed to get them as far as the lean-to, bending her over a stack of bales.

He should be asking if she was all right, if this was what she wanted, but his mouth refused to form the words. He couldn't think beyond the need to possess her, to claim her as his. He shoved her pants impatiently to the ground, growling his approval when he ran a hand between her thighs and found her wet and eager. She arched back, offering herself to him as he freed his erection.

Restraint was impossible. There was no gentleness in him as he drove himself into her with one hard stroke. She cried out and pushed back against him, her hips meeting his thrusts. He growled again, grabbing her hips and holding her in place as he thrust wildly.

It was perfect. She was perfect. Tight and hot and wet around him, each slide of his cock bringing him closer to the edge. She shuddered, her body tightening impossibly as she found her own pleasure. One more stroke and he shattered, pouring himself into her with a roar, claiming her utterly.

For an endless moment they remained locked together as he emptied himself into her welcoming body. Then slowly, gradually, reality returned. He pulled out of her carefully and turned her towards him, cradling her against his chest as he sank to the ground, still shuddering.