Page 92 of Ronan

My teethacheas bloodlust reshapes my reality, my skeleton snapping and twisting as my fingers morph, contorting into gnarling, wicked claws. The world explodes into sharp detail as my senses are heightened. Scents mingle in my nose, every one of them unique. The revolting arousal from the man above me is just as potent as the remnants of dinner on his breath. Unseen footsteps crunch on the soil outside, and I can track each step they take.

Khuth is oblivious to the monster he has unleashed as he grinds against me, mistakenly believing he is still in control. “You’ll never look at him again,” I whisper, the words forming in my mouth with a strange lisp.

Arrogant amusement lines his face as he backs up, but the horror that crosses his features is like a drug, more potent than any vial I could inject into my veins.

I can smell it,feaston it, as he tries to stumble away.

My hand yanks with such force that the chain of the handcuff snaps, leaving the metal around my wrist nothing more than jewelry. His skin pales, eyes wide with terror, as I seize him by the throat, cutting off his scream and pulling him close to watch the fear dance across his face.

Something ancient inside me purrs at that fear.

“You’ll never look at anyone again.”

My claws stab into his face, and I close my eyes at the warm spray of blood that splatters across my skin as they pierce his eye sockets, sinking until they meet bone. He screams for mercy, but it’s nothing more than a terrified rasp against my palm. I open my eyes once more, tilting my head as I watch the crimson rivers pour down his face and puddle on the cot.

The yield of cartilage and muscle under my fingers is a morbid encore as I crush his windpipe and release him to crumble to the ground. The rasping, gasping sounds of him trying to fill his lungs are a symphony to my ears.

“I’m not going to kill you,” I whisper, and he jerks back from my voice and tries to scramble away, fighting for air. “That would be too easy, wouldn’t it? Do you think you’ll bleed out before your lungs give up, or will it be the lack of oxygen that kills you?”

I stand over him and scrape my claw along his arm, fascinated as the skin splits and bleeds. Another hoarse shout comes out as nothing more than a wheeze as he tries to run, but all that’s left in his world is darkness and pain.

“I thought you’d be more of a fighter,” I muse as he gasps a silent sob. A crimson trail traces down his cheek, crying as though the angels weep for his evil soul, and I kneel beside him, putting my lips to his ear. “It’s always so much better when they fight, don’t you think?”

My bloody hand wipes across his armor before I stand, catching the glint of the key sitting on the table. I fumble with it before shoving it into my pocket right as my heightened senses pick up on something new.

The scrape of boots on the ground.

The clang of filthy hands on metal bars.

Clear panic rings from his voice as he speaks and my eyes snap up, tracking him in an instant.

Cameron.

Chapter 28

Cameron

I’m going to kill him.

That weaselly, weak-spined, too-smiley monster won’t keep his hands off Ronan, and I’m trapped in this cage while I watch him touch what’s mine.

The reasonable side of me understands Ronan has to play a part or else he’ll be stuck fighting an entire crew of monsters on his own. I’m locked up, and I’m self-aware enough to realize that I wouldn’t be an asset even if I wasn’t in this cage. It doesn’t squash the rage that’s boiling inside my body, though.

Doesn’t stop the unreasonable side of me from wanting to kill him, too, for allowing Khuth to touch what doesn’t belong to him.

A brown glass bottle passes between them, and my fingers squeeze around the bars as Khuth’s filthy hands settle on Ronan’s hip a second time. Those dark eyes land on mine, and even from this distance, I can feel the guilt in them.

“Fuck,” I groan, letting my head thunk against the side of the cage.

Murder is off the table, then.

For him, at least.

For the hundredth time, I search for another way to escape, but night has fallen and there are no lanterns nearby. Why would they waste light on a prisoner, after all? It’s too dark to see anything beyond vague shapes and colors, so I stop straining my eyes and try to use my brain.

Khuth leads Ronan into his tent, neither of them bothering to look my direction. Ugly, unwanted thoughts hammer my mind, each one twisting my stomach into a tight, painful knot.

What if he decides this is too much trouble?

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