Page 112 of Primal Bonds

The darkness latched onto her like a many-armed octopus. Sucking at her…feeding on the fear and anger, and it hurt. Like no pain in the world. Icy-hot agony that slithered over her skin, drank from her soul, caressed her most secret parts—rape without the physical act.

“Fight me.” A dark breath against her throat.

She bared her teeth at him and he chuckled. She shouldn’t fight him, she knew she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t help it. It was instinct, a trapped butterfly battering its wings against the glass.

Her hands came to Tyrus’s chest. She dug her nails into him through the silky material of his shirt and his head dropped back, eyes slit with enjoyment.

Her stomach bottomed out. Whatever she did, she was fucked. Hopelessness swamped her. Her only consolation was that he’d forgotten Jace to focus on her.

Block him.

But she couldn’t. It wasn’t like in the kitchen when she’d had Kyler to help her, and Jace had been intermittently shielding them as well. This time Tyrus was totally focused on her, and he was strong, relentless. All she could do was endure.

He fed on her for what felt like an eternity but was probably only a few minutes, and then released her. He sat back, replete.

She slumped on the dirt floor, breath scraping in and out of her lungs.

A bone-chilling growl filled the small space. “Let. Her. Go.”

She lifted her head to see Jace’s eyes glowing green with fury. He was struggling to sit up.

“It’s okay,” she whispered.

He didn’t seem to hear her. The growls continued, his cat pushed to its limit.

Evie forced herself to crawl the few feet to him. She felt old, wrung out, each movement of her arms and legs an effort. The whole time, she felt Tyrus’s gaze on her, but he said nothing.

When she reached Jace, she set her cheek against his, still on her hands and knees. Her breath shuddered out. She was shaking, her fingers and toes like ice. She inhaled and tried to calm herself.

“Don’t try to get up—please. It’s okay.”

His gaze swung to her. His jaguar stared out of his eyes. She touched his face. “I’m okay.”

His head tilted and he rubbed his cheek over hers, catlike. The prickles of his night-beard were comforting—a welcome antidote to the smooth, cold tentacles.

“Come. Here.” Guttural tones that she had to strain to understand.

She lay next to him, careful not to jar his injuries. He slid an arm under her, and she nestled her head into his shoulder. Seeking safety, even though she knew it was just an illusion. Tyrus wasn’t going to let them go.

Gradually, she grew warmer and she realized how cold Tyrus had left her. Her shivers ceased, and she sensed Jace calming.

When he spoke again, his voice was that of a human. “Kyler?”

“Back at your den. I made Tyrus leave him behind.”

He exhaled. “Thank the gods.”

She nodded, although she wasn’t sure how much control Tyrus had over the black wolf, who must’ve been Corban. And on top of that, Tyrus had fed on Kyler, too. She swallowed and burrowed closer to Jace.

Kyler’s okay. He has to be. If they got out of this alive, she’d never bitch at him again.

Jace set his mouth to her ear. “Hang on,” he said in a faint voice, each word clearly an effort. “I got word…to Adric before…they took us. He’ll come...save you. And I’ll keep that…prick away from you…until then.”

“No,” she returned in an urgent, equally low tone. “Don’t try anything. He can’t hurt me. Not really.” Not like Jace, who was rapidly growing weaker. She knew he had to be hurt bad—he hadn’t even been able to get off the floor to help her when Tyrus was feeding on her.

Jace’s only reply was a grunt.

She drew in a breath. “I can get your quartz.”

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