Page 41 of Wolf's Bane
His feet pounded the ground, and his legs pumped. He ran until it felt as if his lungs would burst. Not fast enough. Not strong enough. He needed to be unfettered.
With a growl, he grabbed the silver chain at his neck. Pain burned his fingers as he tore the chain away, but pain was momentary. Unfettered, he could breathe. The wild vitality of the nexus poured into him, filling him to the point of bursting. He could not contain it.
The shift started in his toes, elongating and the nails piercing through the leather like daggers. His fingers burned and flexed, claws out. A shudder rippled down this back, forcing him to bend forward. Fabric ripped at the seams of his coat.
Alek stumbled, falling to his knees. It was too much, like trying to fill a teacup from a gushing torrent. He wheezed, mouth opening and sucking in air, but nothing came. This curse had been smothering the life out of him for years, and it was, literally, smothering him now.
He pressed the heel of his hand to the tattoo on his chest. It burned, but that pain was a slight point of light in the overwhelming darkness. This cursed promised power, but it felt him trembling and weak. He fought to contain it, to control it, but the constant fight left him even more vulnerable.
Home. Mate.
The beast wanted out. It promised to strengthen him, faster. Fast enough to protect their mate. It tempted him. Teeth crowded his mouth, drawing blood. He couldn’t do it on his own, he couldn’t resist. He couldn’t even breathe. He was drowning, and the connection with Solenne screamed and—
A hand thumped him hard on his back.
Alek gasped, breathing in.
“Come on. We need you.” Luis held out a hand and hauled Alek up. The younger man gave him a curious look, then shoved him in the house’s direction. “I can sense two. One is close.”
Very close.
Chapter 11
Solenne
Boxon Hill
Marechal House - The Parlor
The glass fellto the floor. All she could hear was the pounding of her heart.
The beast stood on two legs, looking far more human than she felt comfortable with.
Miles stirred on the divan, struggling to rise to his feet, but his legs seemed unable to support his weight.
The beast’s maw moved, and something like a croon came out. Was it trying to speak? She had never heard of such a thing. People under the curse were still, at least in theory, people, but they lost their minds from the pain of the transformation. She could not imagine how much it hurt to have bones snap and re-knit, for skin to stretch, tear and heal. Had this person come to her for help?
“It is an evening of unprecedented events,” she murmured. Carefully, she inched closer to the sideboard.
The beast tracked her movement.
“I believe I can help. I’m going for my kit,” she said. The beast snarled and snapped its jaws. She immediately paused. “All right. What do you want then? You obviously came here for a reason.”
The man, obviously a male from the endowment nestled in a thick patch of hair between his legs, moved forward. She averted her eyes, looking toward the decanter and glasses on the sideboard.
He leaned in, muzzle against her hair. His hardened member pressed against her hip. She closed her eyes, willing herself to remain calm and not give in to fear, which clouded the mind.
Hot, foul breath wafted over her. He growled and snapped his jaws, making her jump with a strangled shout.
He huffed, as if amused.
Her fingers gripped the edge of the sideboard, more annoyed that the beast wanted to frighten her than actually feeling frightened.
A wet tongue licked the side of her face. Revulsion rolled through her body. The beast snarled and shook its head, one clawed hand scraping at its nose, as if trying to remove a foul taste.
How extraordinarily rude.
A shout came from outside the house. Luis and Alek.
