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She was on her feet in the blink of an eye. Dante heard Beck shouting and the clang of metal against the iron of the cage. Ignoring the pain in favor of the righteous anger that now burned through him, Dante followed. He hissed at the ache in his groin, but he was on his feet immediately. The female ran through the cage, seeking her freedom. Dante followed, knowing he would never permit it. She would not get away from him.
Beck’s face was savage as he drew the sword over his head.
“No!” Dante screamed the command in a voice that didn’t sound like his own. Beck froze, the sword in his hand hung in midair. The entire tent seemed to still as though time itself was taking a short break. Dante stared at his prey. “I will handle her.”
The woman looked between Dante and Beck. Her eyes darted between them as if she couldn’t figure out who was the bigger threat.
“I can’t let her go,” Beck said quietly. Every bit of Beck’s focus was on the woman. “Meggie and Ci are out there. I won’t take any chance that she hurts them.”
Dante understood. If there was the smallest chance that Meg or Ci could suffer a moment’s discomfort from this creature, Beck would kill her without a second thought. His cousin loved very few people, but those Beck did love had his whole heart. Dante knew his cousin would kill for him, too. But Dante needed something besides his cousin’s sword this afternoon.
“I will take care of her.” He had to speak carefully. Forming the words around his fangs felt alien to him, but he forced them from his throat anyway. She was his responsibility. She had been from the moment he’d heard her plea. He was the only one who had understood she was intelligent, and he was the only one who could save her now. She just might not like how he did it.
Beck snarled, frustration pouring off him as he lowered his sword. “See that you do, and quickly.”
Dante knew how hard it was for his cousin to stand down. The warrior king was used to taking charge. Beck’s eyes were narrow and focused solely on the female. Dante knew his cousin was waiting and watching for her to make a single wrong move. Dante would have to be careful. Beck nodded to him and moved to block the entrance to the tent.
The woman turned and squared off against Dante. She moved, her limbs fluid and close to the ground. She circled him, her every move a testament to grace and potential violence. Dante watched, taking in the way she moved until he had the rules of engagement down. He could take a sword from Beck, but that would only prove that he had better weapons than she did. Dante wanted to take her down in a way that left no question who was in charge. The need to dominate the lithe creature in front of him was overwhelming.
Dante mimicked her, allowing his body to flow in a predatory fashion. He felt an almost drugged sense of peace as he gave in to his primal urges. This, he realized, was a simpler place. The world narrowed to include only two people.
The female seemed to realize his intent. Her eyes formed slits, and her mouth firmed stubbornly. She reached her hand out as though to swipe at him. He reacted instantly. He batted her hand down. Dante didn’t hold back. He heard the smack as his hand slapped viciously against hers. She pulled it back quickly, clearly surprised at his violence.
“Är du Första?” She bit her bottom lip as she asked the question.
“You will kneel and take the fucking translator,” Dante declared.
He moved his hand down in a gesture she couldn’t possibly mistake. Dante wanted her on her knees in front of him. She might not know why he wanted her to do it, but she would know where he wanted her. “Rhys, get the chip. Get it now.”
She backed up, but she didn’t back down. Her eyes slid between Dante and the door that was guarded by Beck. It was obvious she was trying to decide between fight and flight.
“Kneel!” Dante would allow her neither option. She would kneel and submit. There was no other acceptable outcome.
She turned and ran. Dante jumped into action. Before Beck could draw his sword, Dante was on the woman. He wrestled her to the ground. He pulled ruthlessly at her arms, gathering her wrists behind her back and shoving her breasts into the hard dirt of the floor. He used his weight to cover and control her. She fought, but his hold dominated her petite body. She spat out curses until Dante had finally had enough of her rebellion.
He gathered her wrists in one large hand. He used his other hand to shove her face into the ground and, running on primal instinct, placed his fangs directly over the delicate bones of her neck. He bit down with a gentle, but unmistakable force, careful not to break the skin. She stilled beneath him. The only movement from his prey was the breath rattling in and out of her chest. She was obviously aware that he could break her neck with the slightest force. She was at his mercy.
“Jag lämna,” she said breathlessly. She relaxed beneath him.
Dante had the insane urge to press his victory. The little predator lay still and silent beneath him. Even her words sounded submissive. The impulse was there to pull off his slacks and pound into her softness, claiming that which he had conquered. He could spread her thighs and take her. She was his by right of battle. She would accept him now.
Instead, he took a deep breath and sat up, releasing his hold on her neck. He hadn’t broken the skin, but there were twin indentions on the back of her neck where he’d pressed his fangs. He stared at those marks, allowing his finger to trace them. If he’d used a bit more force, her blood would have flowed into his mouth. Consort blood. He’d heard the stories. Consort blood was sweet, sweeter and richer than any meal pill. If the stories were true, her blood could make him stronger and faster than he was. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to plunge his fangs in and drink his fill. He wanted so badly to feed in that moment, though it had nothing to do with hunger.
But he wasn’t an animal. He was a modern man, and he had a job to do.
“The chip,” Dante commanded, holding his hand out.
Rhys responded immediately. The chip was in Dante’s palm, and he placed it against the delicate skin right behind her left ear. The chip disappeared, burrowing painlessly through skin and bone
and into the brain.
“My consort needs a bath. See that it is drawn,” Dante ordered. He didn’t move from his position. Now his hand moved forward, rubbing across her neck. She was still beneath him, her eyes closed, her posture utterly submissive.
It filled something inside him he hadn’t known was missing.
“Your consort?” Rhys asked. There was no mistaking the shock in the gnome’s voice.
“Dante, what are you saying?” Beck asked.
