Page 44 of The Hunter

Lacey.

She lay snuggled against him, one leg draped over his waist, one arm slung loosely around his neck. His last memory was of her curled up in his arms under the fresh darkness of night. When had he fallen asleep? How had he, with his mind so chaotic and his instincts so demanding?

He tightened his arms around Lacey, drawing her more securely against him. Her sweet fragrance filled his nose and coated his fine hairs, surrounding and pervading him, and his body eagerly accepted the warmth she radiated.

The tension that had seized him upon waking was already fading, and a welcome weight was settling over his limbs, lulling him back toward slumber.

By the Eight, this peace and contentment was sorely welcome after moon cycles of struggle. He’d not realized how close the threads of his being had come to being torn asunder.

But could he truly accept this? Contentment never came without risks, and the risks of letting himself sink into this, into her, were immense. He’d never experienced anything like this. If he embraced it…he’d have so much to lose.

He’d have everything to lose.

This felt like being caught in a flood-swollen river, swept toward the unknown by currents too strong to swim against. Was this what his friends had meant when they’d spoken of fate bringing them together with their mates?

Telok lowered his head. His eyes drifted shut as he drew in a slow, deep breath. The air was laden with Lacey’s scent, but there was a hint of something else in it, a faint, earthy musk.

In the fleeting instant of silence between inhalation and exhalation, that wood rasp sounded again—far closer this time.

Fine hairs rising with a tingling thrum, Telok opened his eyes.

Not half a segment behind Lacey was a vithkha, its long, limbless body curled and clinging to the trunk. The hard, armored segments on its back matched the dark bark, making it nearly indistinguishable from the tree. Coiled body tensing, it raised its head and spread its mandibles wide, stretching the thin hide connecting them to reveal soft, pale flesh and a fanged, vertical mouth. Droplets of venom gleamed on the tips of its inner fangs.

It was going to strike.

And its black eyes were locked on Lacey.

Telok shoved his torso up with his left arms and dragged Lacey beneath him with his lower right arm. She jolted awake with a gasp.

The vithkha launched its powerful body forward, and Telok thrust out his upper right hand, closing it just under the beast’s head. His muscles strained against the force of the lunge, which halted with the creature’s gaping mouth a handspan away from his face. The vithkha hissed with such aggression that Telok felt the sound vibrate against his hide.

He slammed the vithkha down atop the branch. It writhed and lashed before whipping its tail up and curling itself around his arm.

Lacey shrank back, hands flat on his chest, and rasped, “Oh God…”

The vithkha’s mandibles gnashed, seeking flesh to rend, and the hooklike growths on its underbelly snagged Telok’s hide, latching on as the beast constricted.

Telok’s lower right hand found the shaft of his spear. Clenching his jaw, he snatched the weapon up and swung it behind his back. He caught the shaft in his upper left hand, spun it to correct his grip, and thrust it downward from over his shoulder. The point struck the vithkha’s mouth, punched through the back of its head, and lodged in the wood beneath.

Stiffening, the creature coiled tighter. With a final, broken hiss, it stilled, strength fading, but its body remained latched in place.

Lacey scooted out from under Telok and sat up. Her chest heaved with her heavy breaths, her eyes were huge and rounded, and her cheeks were paler than normal, making her freckles more pronounced. That fiery hair was tousled, with wild strands having escaped her braids.

She was…beautiful.

“What the hell is that thing?” Lacey asked.

“Dead,” Telok growled.

“Well obviously.”

Hurried steps thumped toward them along the branch. Snarling, Telok wrenched his spear free and turned to face the new threat.

Droztar halted abruptly, holding up three palms; his fourth hand clutched his spear. “Take ease, Scarhide.”

Ayali stopped behind him, her much longer spear at the ready.

Tension easing, Telok laid his weapon beside himself. His hearts pounded, and dull pain throbbed along his forearm.