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“Yes.” Ozias’s response was terse, but his arms tightened around me as if to belie his coldly certain tone. Bending his head, he nuzzled the top of my hair, inhaling deeply as he did, like he was drawing my scent into the farthest reaches of his lungs. A rumbling vibration carried through his chest, so deep it wasn’t quite a sound. It was soothing somehow, like a growling purr that instantly reached down into some deep and ancient part of my mind, calming my innate survival fears. But as much as it was acting upon me, the reaction also seemed instinctive for him, as if he was reassuring himself I was truly here.
“I really am okay. I promise.” I twisted a little bit, searching. “Is Roan?—”
The rumbling turned darker. Deadlier and yet filled with a hunger that surged through the link between us. “That one is the only reason I’m not dragging you away from here right now.”
“What?” I looked up at him.
The heat in his eyes made an answering need suddenly twist in my core, like my body was more attuned to him than it was to my confusion at his words.
“You torture me, little mate,” he murmured. “First I feel your time with the others in the castle, then with that one… and then…” Worry joined the hunger, and his grip on me shuddered like he was holding himself back from something.
Perhaps howling out the emotions roiling inside him like a building storm.
My mouth moved. “I-I’m sorry.” My chest ached from the torrent coming from him. “I didn’t think you’d… I mean?—”
“Oz,” Clay called. “What’s going on, man?”
Ignoring him, Ozias murmured, “It isn’t your pleasure I mind. It’s that then you were afraid and in so much pain…”
His jaw clenched with growing rage, and before I could think what to say, he turned so the others came into view.
My words died. The men were several yards away.
Roan was on the ground between them, held at sword point.
“Wait.” I struggled to get down. “Don’t hurt him!”
“He hurt you,” Ozias growled back as if that was more than enough cause for ripping Roan apart.
I grunted as I shoved at him, too scared of the chance the pain would return to simply shift and slip free.
Ozias scowled, but he put me down.
My legs wobbled, threatening to send me plopping back to the ground. “This wasn’t Roan’s fault,” I insisted, settling for gripping Ozias’s arm for stability. “He didn’t hurt me, I swear.”
Wary looks passed between the twins, while Byron’s head tilted back a bit, his expression considering, as if my words confirmed what he already suspected. With his grip adjusting and readjusting on his sword, Dex appeared to be running a dozen scenarios through his mind, while Casimir stood to one side, his expression thoughtful. His chest still bore the gashes from where the demon’s claws struck him, but he gave no sign of pain. Around his feet, Ruhl swirled, a low-lying tumble of dark clouds without any hint of a wolf inside.
Behind the others, Niko didn’t take his eyes from Roan. He seemed so tense, I swore he was shaking.
“It’s okay,” I pressed. “I’m okay. Please.”
Dex’s jaw muscles jumped briefly, and then he asked Roan, “What version of you are we dealing with, friend? Assuming you are still our friend.”
“Just me.” Even though he sat on the ground surrounded by swords held by his friends, Roan sounded entirely calm.
I swore I could still hear pain beneath his tone.
“The demon…” His jaw muscles jumped. “It’s asleep.”
“You planning on it staying that way?” Clay asked coldly.
Roan’s eyes flicked to me. He nodded once.
“Why didn’t you tell us you were part—” Dex’s gaze went to the side, though I couldn’t figure out who he was looking at. “Part stygiaterros?”
Confusion hit me, and for the first time, the careful shield of control Roan had around himself cracked. A hint of uncertainty entered his voice when he asked, “Part what?”
“Stygiaterros,” Byron said.
