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She fisted the blanket as something snapped within her and exploded, her scream filling the tent as she was overwhelmed by an abyss of pleasure drowning her in ecstasy. Raskyuil’s cock jerked repeatedly inside, and his own bellow joined her cries as his release pumped into her with every flex of his hips, his hot seed bathing her inside entirely.
The sudden grip of his teeth puncturing her shoulder was a surprise but one that sent her into another wave of pleasure as something within her slid into place, settling in the inferno finally as his cock continued to batter the mouth of her womb with every spray of his seed. His cock was still jerking when he finally pulled free of her, still spewing as he coated her thighs and belly as she shook under him in the aftermath of her orgasm. She stared at him in shock as his big, warm hand rubbed it into her skin as he stared down at her with dark eyes filled with some unknown emotion, his chest heaving with each ragged breath.
“Mine,” he growled as he slid down her body, lowered his head, and nuzzled her neck right above the spot his teeth had punctured her.
Her hand rose and tangled in his hair, holding him to her as her pussy fluttered with the last remnant of her orgasm, and her heart pounded within her chest in time with his.
Mine.
ChapterTwenty-Nine
Abloodcurdling scream dragged Raskyuil out of the warmth of his mate’s embrace, bringing an immediate curse to his lips as his eyes opened and darted around the tent. It was still dark, indicating that it was not yet morning, but it didn’t hamper his vision as his eyes sought out his mate. Even though he felt her lying beside him, and knew logically that it hadn’t come from her, he still frantically turned her toward him to watch her blink sleepily at him.
“Raskyuil? What…” she mumbled groggily, but her eyes flew open wide as another scream tore through the air, followed by the whimper and faint cries of children. MaryAnne erupted into action, flinging her legs over the side of the bed. “My kids!”
“MaryAnne, stop!” he bellowed.
He went to grab her, but his arms closed around air as her little body slipped from the bed. Falling onto the bed, he shoved himself up from it, his feet striking the ground loudly as he took off after her. It took him no more than a few quick steps to close the distance between them, and he snatched his mate up into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest.
“What the fuck?” she shouted in surprise, her body twisting erratically in an attempt to get loose. “Raskyuil, what the hell are you doing? Let me go!”
He stepped back from the entrance and shook his head. He would investigate, but he refused to do it with his mate out there where she would be vulnerable. Turning, he set her on the ground behind him, his hands gripping her shoulders to keep her from attempting to rush by him again.
His heart thudded in his chest, anxious for his female and the children that he could hear screaming on and on in faint voices through the early morning air. The sound was eerie, but worse was the shriek that tore through the air again. It forced him to apply more pressure to restrain MaryAnne until he was finally able to get her to still and meet his eyes. He winced inwardly at the fury he saw, but he hardened his resolve and glowered back at her.
“Stay here,” he growled, emphasizing his words with a flex of his fingers before turning away and ducking out of the tent.
He was naked and his feet were bare, but it wasn’t the first time he’d walked over broken ground without protection. It didn’t slow him down as he rushed through the carnival. The fog rose around him, the cries getting louder as the screams of pain and terror in the distance grew louder and closer together in a cadence of pure agony. He was aware of others bursting from their tents, drawn by the screams. The hollow sound of children wailing made him shiver, but his stomach dropped sickly in shock as he shot out from amid the carnival, his eyes falling on the source of the screams.
He didn’t make a sound. He just stared numbly for a moment and stalked toward the spikes erected on the ground, each one holding an impaled body writhing in agony as skin and flesh blackened and peeled away, crumbling into dust. He was aware of Barok keeping pace with him and two other males who were his kinsmen. They passed Elwyn, who stood at the front of his tent, staring expressionlessly at the dying vampires. The screams didn’t last long, the vampires falling unconscious to the pain overwhelming them as the sun slowly destroyed their bodies.
It was perhaps a small mercy that they no longer suffered, but Raskyuil’s stomach tightened with anger as his claws slashed into the bindings keeping them tied down on the stakes driven through them and carefully lifted the female’s crumbling body free as Barok handed the male down to Gorfal. The mountain troll took the body, a low keening sound erupting him. Raskyuil didn’t know where the male hailed from or what his story was since he mostly kept to himself, but the male was too soft-hearted for his own good.
From behind him and to his left, he heard gasps and more than one shocked shout. He glanced around grimly at all the shocked faces watching quietly. They were all feeling it, as well as a sense of loss in the face of violence so close to home. The vampires were not only murdered but left to suffer a slow death in the most brutal of ways. He glanced one last time at the female, a shudder rushing through him as he imagined it to be MaryAnne left to die. His jaw hardened, and he gratefully passed her to the orc who arrived at his side and reached for her, a large sheet of cloth in his hands to wrap her remains.
The black ash and charred flesh of the vampire still clung to him, making him feel unclean as he waded through the crowd. He would wash and return to his mate. She was anxious for her children, and even though it hadn’t been one of the younglings, he couldn’t cruelly make her wait longer. Yet his footsteps felt heavy, hating that he was returning to her mired in death and filth. It clung to him, making his lip curl with disgust as he attempted all the same to brush it off of him. The last thing he wanted to do was give her more reason to be afraid. Especially when the faint cries of younglings still clung to the fog, echoing in his ears as they came from all directions—and him helpless to help them which made it all the worse.
His ears twitched at the echoing wails. He wanted to claw his ears. He knew that others were hearing it too even if they weren’t acknowledging it. Uneasy glances toward the fog gave them away, and they knew that the cries lamented the murder. They ducked closer to each other and even Nathiel was drawn amid the huddle of the night aelves, their eyes taking everything in and flitting around nervously as they stood clustered together.
For Raskyuil, it was a special sort of torment knowing that they were beyond his reach and not knowing their fate. Their cries were eating at him, melding together for a moment before finally fading, replaced by the sound of footsteps rushing at him. He turned toward the sound and groaned in dismay when he caught MaryAnne’s scent in the air. Thankfully he had noted it before she could get past him.
Turning toward her, he stepped into her path, catching her small body against him before she had a chance to slip by. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to prevent her from seeing the grisly horror left outside of the carnival for them. She choked, crying out as her eyes fell upon the scene, but he lifted her in the warmth of his arms, pressing her face against his chest.
“Don’t look. There is no reason to look now. What is done is done,” he whispered into her hair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“My kids,” she choked. “Sabrina… Michael…”
“No,” he cut in quickly. “It’s not them.”
She sagged against him, but as the tension in her little body eased, she began to tremble against him, her soft sobs muffled against his chest. “I could have sworn I heard them crying. I was so certain it was them.”
“Hush now,” he rumbled. “It was not.”
Her arms climbed around his neck as he tucked an arm under her legs and proceeded to carry her back to their tent. His heart hurt for her. Her pain and relief, and the guilt for being glad that it was not her loved ones who were dead. He understood that pain, and he held her close.
“Foolish female,” he growled softly and nuzzled her hair as he adjusted his grip so that he could carry her properly, his heart aching that she had to see such a thing. “I told you to stay in the tent.”
“I know, but I had to see,” she choked out against the crook of his neck. “Who were they?”
