Page 3 of Veradel
Those canines wouldn’t pierce my skin or make me bleed, but they would bruise.
And why is that exciting me even more? Maybe I did knock my head a little too hard.
“Put me down, Lucan,” I try to say confidently, but the sincerity leaks out of my voice before it can even take root. In actuality, I don’t want this male to ever put me down again.
Lucan cocks his head down at me.
“No.”
“I said—”
“And I saidno, little nightmare.” He only tightens his hold, crushing me against him. “This is the first time I’m able to touch you, and I’m not letting you go so quickly. Not when I can smell your desire to stay right here.”
I squirm in his hold—to no avail, of course. The effort is half-hearted anyway. “I know you have a good sense of smell, Lucan, but I don’t think strawberries and roses are capable of giving you any indication of my desires.”
“I’m not talking about strawberries and roses, Saskia. Not this time.” Lucan’s voice dips. “I’m talking about that sweet wetness pooling between your legs right now, drenching you through your clothes. I was never able to smell it with a Wall between us, but now…”
His nostrils flare, and my cheeks practically sizzle with mortification. I got so comfortable talking to him mind-to-mind that I forgot what a powerful, threatening force he actually is. He might not look like the Monster right now, but he’s sure acting like it.
“Well, I can feelyourdesire through your pants, so we’re even,” I bite out.
It’s true, actually. With my hip nestled up against Lucan’s groin, his hardness stiffens against me, and I actually have to suppress the moan building in my throat—and the urge to grab him.
I just fell from the Wall,I remind myself sharply.Arad is probably listening to the murmur of our voices from above. The people of Xantera are still in danger. Now is not the time.
Or the place. One more swift glance around me tells me how truly out of my element I am out here. Whereas I’ve always lived in perfect structures under bright fluorescent lights or in the palace surrounded by extravagant furniture and decorations,thisis absolutely wild.
And somehow, breathtakingly beautiful at the same time.
Pine needles sprinkle a russet dirt floor beneath me, but we’re in the only bald spot as far as my eye can see—as if Lucan’s constant treading here stamped out any undergrowth. But otherwise, ferns spring up between trees, moss cloaks the trunks all around us, and branches reach for each other with scraggly arms that create an intricate web of wood among the mist.
When I look up, a single drop of water plops against the tip of my nose and rolls down.
“C’mon,” Lucan says, his expression hardening over into something unreadable. His jaw clenches again, as if he’s biting back a million different words, but that glint of amusement still shines through. “Let’s get you inside before you get even more wet.”
Inside? Where are we even going? Is he taking me to his own house? Right now?
For some reason, the thought sends nerves shooting into my belly. Not because I’m afraid to be alone with him, but because I’m afraid I might finally meet the others he so rarely talks about. His fellow Monsters who can also shift between forms.
“I’m fine,” I try to say, even as more droplets sprinkle us from above.
“Maybe.” Lucan’s already spinning and striding into the forest, away from the Wall, with me still pressed up against his chest. “But I just watched you fall from a one-hundred-foot height, so I’m not taking any chances letting you stay out here and catch a cold.”
“That’s not even how colds work,” I argue.
“And you’re not walking yourself,” he continues, ignoring me completely. “Not until I get our medic to look at you and make sure you truly didn’t break anything.”
“I’m a healer!” I protest. “I’m pretty sure I would be able to tell if my own bones are broken.” I squirm, my hip knocking into his hardness again. “So you can put. Me. Down. Right. Now.” I push against his chest fruitlessly.
Lucan stops abruptly, the shadows of the woods pressing in on us. Dusk has bled into nighttime, and hardly any moonlight streams through the gaps in the trees and mist above, but I can still see the lift of his lips again as he stares me down, eyes two slits of glinting yellow in the darkness.
“I can carry you like you’re a princess, Saskia, or I can carry you like you’re a wicked little nightmare,” he purrs. “Your choice. But until I know for sure you’re safe and unharmed, I’m not setting you down. So which is it? What do you want to be right now?”
All my pent-up frustration and anger over the last several months seem to home in on him. Not because he’s the cause, but because he’s the outlet. And I swear, his eyes track the way my own spark up. Iwantthis fight. Need to let it out as surely as my heart needs to beat.
And he knows that. He’s ready for every part of me.
So in response, I squirm and twist and kick.
