Page 31 of A Velvet Kiss After Dark

She has never felt so out of place in her entire life. Of that she was certain.

Above them, one of the dragons released a heinous cry of battle. Heat blasted in the air above, the wind whooshing in a powerful surge. Scales fell around her accompanied by a spray of green liquid-like blood. She yelped and clung tighter to Kane. He roared a wordless sound and his teammates seemed to understand his inaudible cry as they each hurried down the trek at a dangerous pace, sliding by the tips of their fingers, splitting open skin on palms, boots skidding against rock until finally they crashed into the sandy dirt at the bottom of the precipice. And, without nary a word, the group sprinted away for safety.

"This way! There's water in distance," the female with the long silvery hair shouted over her shoulder. Her vampire speed, along with the man beside her made her a blur to Tabitha's human gaze. Somewhere amidst the jogging, her eye-wear fell and crushed beneath a hairy paw, leaving her to squint to see clearly.

Kane's overbearing paw kept Tabitha in place as he sprinted like a linebacker trying to make a touchdown. She bounced roughly across his shoulder, bones digging into her stomach, breath whooshing out of her in a rush. He even smelled like an animal. Like hairy dog and wildlife. In the back of her mind, she had a radical thought that he might eat her and enjoy it.

"Put me down. I can run on my own," she wheezed.

A snarl was his only reply, his claws clenching tightly into her skin. It didn't hurt, but he drove his point home—he wasn't going to let go of her.

Oh God, she was so far from home, so out of her element as a gossip column writer and detective of unorthodox, hot-selling stories.

What had she gotten herself into?

7

Beside a craggy wall of rock stood a dense cove of thick, primitive palm trees filled with lush verdant leaves that swayed in the wind. The wind kicked up golden orange sand from crested dunes in the distance and laid it flat in areas, while creating stunning pyramidal shapes in others.

Back from whence they came, the red dragon lay motionless at the base of the turret they'd ported into, defeated by the silver-skinned dragon.

The sky emanated heat waves like a kiln. Sweat dribbled down Kane's furry back and slicked his fur to his body like a glove over a sopping wet hand. Runnels of heat pelted him with unending brutality, slickened his skin and burned his lungs with every fresh inhalation of air. Marking the perimeter of their sheltered brush as clear, the team dropped their supplies and flicked off their heavy gear and weapons to cleanse their bodies in a tiny basin of water they found. All except for Tabitha who huddled near the water, arms perched across over her knees, back stiff with fear radiating off her as she watched Kane as if seeing him for the first time. He supposed she finally had. He'd never shapeshifted in front of her before.

It was an odd sight for Kánnérd to see the ever-strong, bullying female frightened to her core. Of course, looking death (and a dragon) in the eye had that effect on a person.

Silly woman, he thought. He could curse her for following him through the portal.

Did she understand the gravity of the situation? Now did she see what danger she lie in? A shoddy journalist served no use for the task at hand. She looked weak and pathetic, and all he wanted to do was crowd her in the safety of his arms, reveal to her the truth—that she was meant for him, and he was meant for her—and get the hell out of here.

After dropping her to the ground he easily contorted back to his human shape, an easy task for a werewolf his age. All he had to do was imagine himself being back in his human body, and his body transformed on its own, muscles contorting, arms decreasing back to their normal size. He turned around, hiding his naked body, and grabbed fresh clothes from his pack.

Tension radiated from his pores. He'd gone over their plan of attack in detail to find the Castle of Illusions, retrieve the Relic of Souls, and return it to Alpha Zeke. He always planned for the unplannable, as much as anyone could, but, this was something else entirely. His fated mate, who knew nothing of warfare, blood, and pain, needed protecting at all costs. He had high hopes and plans for her, including four pups and a future—once she learned they were fated.

Yet, his future mate watched Kánnérd with a mixture of inquisitive curiosity and trepidation. She was afraid of him now. She looked at him as if she'd never really seen him before, and it made him sick to his stomach at the thought that she may not ever accept all of him. What if she didn't want him? What if she'd never marry him or bear his children? Half-breeds, that's what they'd be, and he'd protect them all until his dying day, including her.

Nothing more would satisfy him than to shove her back through the portal and send her back home for good, but the portal was closed and sat atop a dragon-enclosed nest. He simply couldn't send her back. She must remain alongside him. It was her, and all of their greatest chance at survival the Hel realm.

At least his team were trained fighters. This woman fought with words, pen, and tabloids on celebrities. She was so outmatched for this world it wasn't funny.

She exuded the stench of fear and uncertainty. His instincts urged him to draw near, to sit beside her and offer her comfort—and the protection of his weapons and body. Though he craved doing that, apprehension kept him from moving closing the distance between them. She'd seen him for what he really was. The true testament to whether he'd ever have a real relationship with his fated one would rest in her hands and how she came to grips with not who he was, but what.

They had a relic to find and Hell territory to explore, and now on top of it all he had a hefty problem to keep alive. Irritation exploded in a red-hot flash and he strode over to her, her eyes widening to take up her whole face as he tugged her up and dragged her to a remote portion in the trees; out of earshot from the rest of the group.

Her eyes were huge in her face and her skin pale as the dead. A purplish hue had taken up space under her eyes. Even her hair was matted from their sprint through the sandy desert. Tiny sand particles were clinging to her scalp and on her cheek, but she didn't seem to notice or care. She looked up at him resolutely, as if resigned to her fate.

"I can't go back, can I?" she asked in a defeated voice.

A moment of relief swept through him. Her first question was not about his werewolf side. Perhaps the dread he'd scented on her wasn't because of him after all.

A harsh shake of his head was his only reply. His jaw clamped viciously to keep from shouting at her, or from saying something he couldn't take back, like how scared he was that he might not be able to protect her. Raw emotions burned his eye sockets and left his fingernails carving out bloodied dents in his palms.

"I have a few questions, if you'll please allow me," she said. She crossed her arms and gazed up at him with a gentle expression.

Somehow he managed a nod.

"That was a portal into Hell I came through and I can't go back, is that correct?"

A nod. So long as they communicated like this, perhaps his heart would slow down and stop quaking inside him. You won't harm her, his instincts whispered to him, even those everything else here might. That thought gentled him like dog being patted by its owner.

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