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“Okay,” I say softly.
“What?”
“I said okay,” I say, sucking in a fortifying breath. “If it will heal me...”
CHAPTER FOUR
RANSOM
“She has to fall in with our cause. I’m counting on you to make that happen, Ransom. Don’t fail me.”
I shiver, stomach churning with the desire to be sick, even as I move closer to the woman seated across the fire from me. I brought her back to the small cavern. Taking her against the wall in the cold, dark cavern would have been faster, but it also felt barbaric. It’s bad enough I’ve come to do this, she should at least have the comfort of a flat surface and a fire nearby to warm her thin human skin.
Axion never said the words aloud when we laid out our plans, but I know what he wants me to do. What Lycaon and his ilk have been forcing me and those like me to do since we entered this godsforsaken realm. He wants me to act as a whore, giving my body to this woman to secure her loyalty in the same way Lycaon forced us to screw the royals in other lands for treasure, land, or their able-bodied men. Axion is just too damn cowardly to ask me for the favor outright. Bastard. If he weren’t my king, I’d kill him for being so craven. It isn’t fair. Not to me and especially not to the woman. But heismy king, and Imustdo what I’m told. When the alpha commands, the rest of us obey.
Mating with me used to be an honor, something a selective few in a royal line were groomed for and only allowed when the females were fully mature. At least this woman is an adult. Young to be sure, but still mature. Lycaon has thrown teenagers into my bed and I was not allowed to refuse them. My only consolation? My seed cannot flourish in the human womb. I sire no pups with the noblewomen I’ve rutted. It’s a small mercy, but a mercy nonetheless. There are already enough monstrous half-breeds wrought by their science without adding mine to the mix.
Her soft, long-fingered hands find my chest, settling uncertainly on the firm flesh of my abdomen. After so many years in this too-bright world the generals call Fantasia, I’ve grown used to this two-legged form, though I prefer to be on all fours. The human body feels unnatural, a spindly, unsteady thing with all its innards facing outward, completely unprotected. They have no claws to defend themselves, and pathetic teeth that can barely handle mutton, let alone something coming to tear their guts loose. But as Lycaon is keen to point out, not even the most depraved of their nobles wants to screw us in our hellhound form. So, this flimsy human shell is what I have to work with.
I expect her to clamber onto my lap and dig her blunt human fingernails into my shoulders, neck, or back to secure herself to me as she fumbles to find my cock in the ridiculous cloth covering these humans call trousers. My pheromones are potent enough when aimed at my own species. To every other creature we’ve encountered, they seem to rob females of their senses. I have to hide at the borders of towns to avoid being mobbed and molested by humans. Anyone Lycaon expected me to seduce were led to private chambers, rather than risk my safety. And that’s when I’m not even attempting to lure in a female. When I’m actively trying? I can drive them half-mad with lust.
It had honestly shocked me to find this female has kept her wits up to this point, even making physical contact with me without ripping her clothes off or begging me to enter her. I affect her, there’s no doubt about that. I can scent her desire on the air, feel the warmth of her when she presses close, hear the increase in her breathing and heart rate. But she doesn’t lose herself like others do. She even draws away when she catches herself. It makes me like her a little more—mainly because I marvel at her restraint. Does it come from her status as a Chosen one? Thanks to the talisman that we’ve been given by Morningstar himself, we know that she’s one of the Champions—one of those who are marked as his equal. Is that the sorcery that makes her sane in the face of my body? Or could it have something to do with her lack of sight? She’s only ever laid eyes on me with the help of magical artifices, which Maddox was sure to carefully remove when she’d been captured. We had no idea what they did at the time, but leaving any of Tenebris’ handiwork on Blaze was a poor move if we wanted to keep her subdued. Thus, I wonder if it’s her blindness that’s granted her some level of immunity? Will that immunity dissolve when my magic grants her partial sight? I hope not.
“Ran?” she asks quietly, hands sliding along my body cautiously. She’s particularly careful with my face, gliding her soft fingers over the dips and planes with no more pressure than a butterfly’s wings. Her touch feels nice. I’m so seldom treated gently by the females Lycaon brings to my bed. They’re like beasts in season, animalistic in their pursuit of climax.
“I’m here,” I say, moving closer to her. She still hasn’t climbed on me, reaching across the gap between us as if she’s unsure she has permission to approach. It’s oddly endearing.
“Is something wrong?” she asks, voice wavering on the last word. She means it. She’s worried for me.
Everything is wrong,I think, guilt twisting my insides.Axion shouldn’t ask this of either of us.
But he will, because the good of two people can’t outweigh the needs of thousands. There is so much more at stake than my feelings or hers, and that fact is enough to steel my resolve. I’ll do this, even if it condemns me to the searing white of eternal, blind agony that awaits those of us who sin so egregiously. I give her a half-truth.
“I’m enjoying your touch,” I confess. “You’re so warm. I haven’t felt that in a while.”
Humans are frigid, their bodies as cold as corpses to my senses. It feels like an abomination to rut them, even though I know they are alive. Sweltering rooms, fires, and saunas don’t help raise their temperature much, and it’s difficult to stay hard during the act. I’ve found my ways. If I fail to perform, Lycaon will make me pay dearly for it, so I’ve concocted several fantasies to help me along.
I expected to have to fish out my favorite in this instance and am pleasantly surprised that I’m able to stay in this moment with her. She’s almost warm enough to be a hellhound female. If I look at her from a distance, I can almost trick myself into believing she’s one of my own kind. Her hair is bright and eye-catching, the sort of scarlet shade that is so common in the Dubinoir, the territory furthest from our sun. Their women are pale-furred, with golden markings. Her freckles are golden-brown, a lighter shade than any human’s I’ve ever seen, and I can pretend they’re family markings if I squint. The eyes ruin the illusion, though. No hellhound female has eyes so pale. They’re large and purely human.
Blaze lets out a breathless laugh. “That’s odd, given how feverish you are. When I have a temperature, everything feels cold to me, and I run hotter than most thanks to my magic. I feel bad making you exert yourself like this when you’re ill.”
I grimace. Lies. So many lies I’ve told this woman, and we’ll have to pile on more if we want her to support our cause. She can’t know the truth. She’ll despise us. Or worse, she’ll turn tail and run in the opposite direction. She’s fast. Almost as fast as we are, and if she gets a head start, we’ll never catch up.
I nip her fingertips, savoring the small shiver that races through her. She’s resistant, not immune. I kiss the skin of her palm, soothing the ache away, and her thighs clench, trying to disguise her want.
“It’s not a hardship,” I lie. “We need each other to get out of this mess.”
“And I’m looking forward to seeing you,” she admits with a sheepish grin. “It feels like you’re handsome, but I’m not the best judge of things now, am I?”
I lean in and slant my mouth over hers in lieu of an answer. There are only so many lies I can stand to tell her while she’s literally and figuratively in the dark about who I am. Her lips part invitingly, a groan building in her throat when I mate our tongues together in the slippery dance so many humans seem to enjoy. I’ve never seen the appeal of it myself, but Blaze is different. Her mouth is warm, her taste sweet and strangely addictive. It’s the first time I’ve enjoyed this contact since I was reduced to Lycaon’s sexual bargaining chip.
Her clothes are already in tatters, and it would be a simple matter to half-shift my hands, using my claws to rip away the tunic that hides her from my sight. In the firelight her pale skin would be painted in shades of orange, crimson, and cold, further feeding my fantasy that she’s like me. That this is what I want it to be—a union between myself and a female of my kind. I don’t tear the cloth away. It would only scare her to learn who and what I am, and I want to delay that moment for as long as possible. Instead, I undo the laces that bind it at the back, letting what remains slide off her. More strips of fabric bind her chest, those stained with sweat. She blushes when I finger the underside of one modestly sized breast, trying to locate where it begins or ends.
“I have to wrap my chest,” she explains. “Or I get... uncomfortable. I’ve been running for days, and I haven’t had time to wash the wraps. Sorry.”
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”
I watch, mesmerized as she begins to undo the wrappings around her chest. I have to admit, I enjoy the sight of her body more than any other human I’ve been asked to service. There’s just something that sets her apart, makes her more tolerable than most of her kind. If this were a real encounter, not something orchestrated by my king, I might even lose myself in her heat without guilt. But there will be guilt. Because this is a stain on my conscience. I’ve always despised what Lycaon did to us, and now I’m turning around, doing the same thing, using someone else to further my own ends. What a hypocrite I am.
