Page 36 of A Wolf's Treasure
But logic wasn’t doing him much good at the moment.
“Duncan? What’s wrong?”
Ryanne came into his line of vision, covered again and looking bonnie in her dress with the blue flowers. Only the mess of her ponytail and the colors still swirling in her eyes evidence of what they’d just done.
A growl rumbled in his chest. His wolf, trying to protect him. Or maybe trying to protect her. Duncan couldn’t tell.
He feared he would never be able to look upon little, blue flowers again without going mad. “Stay away from me,” he told her.
“Duncan, it’s—”
She came toward him, her boots squishing in the mud. Rain began to fall, splattering off her hair and skin, and he held up a hand to stop her before she could touch him. It was funny, the things one heard when they were on the brink of losing their mind.
And their manhood.
Screams echoed in his head. His own and his wolf’s. Had she ever heard a wolf scream in pain?
Had she been there?
Did it matter?
She was one of them. Nothing would ever change that. Even if she was kind now, she would change. Just like all the others. Just like Marc’s Bronaugh. The dark Fae magic would be too much for her to contain or control, and eventually, it would overtake her until she became something evil and un-pure. Her heart and mind would deteriorate, and in her quest to fill the void, she would become addicted to souls. Feeding like a mindless parasite. Mad from the hunger.
“Duncan, you’re shaking. Please talk to me.”
But he couldn’t talk to her. He couldn’t even see her. All he saw were those eyes. Those fucking pinwheels of hell. He couldn’t let her drag him back there. Not again. He would rather she just cut off his cock and be done with it then put him through those horrors again.
With fumbling fingers, he tried to fasten his pants. To hide himself. And then suddenly, he stilled. Was that what this had been? Was this only a trick of the Fae? His chin dropped as he stared at his flaccid cock lying limply to the side. Had any of that been real?
Those emotions he’d felt, the ones that were beginning to make him feel like a true male again, began to slowly bleed out of him. He could practically see them drain from his pores and down his body, gathering into rivers to join the rainwater running through the muck on the ground.
Duncan heard a horrible sound, long and drawn out, and it took him a moment to realize it was him. He pressed his palms to either side of his head. “Stop!” he roared. “Stop!”
“I’m not doing anything!” she cried, taking a step toward him. “Duncan, please.”
His skin slid and shifted over his muscles, and he bared his canines. “Haud yer wheesht!” he cried. He didn’t want to hear what she had to say. It was all a trick. “Ye stay away from me, ye devil. Or ye will no’ like wha’ happens.”
It was a bluff. If she pulled out her magics, he would be able to do nothing but melt into a puddle of fear at her booted feet. Her boots. Boots. The prince always wore boots, and something pulled at his thoughts. Something important he should be paying attention to. But he couldn’t focus on it enough to figure out what it was.
Ryanne stopped where she was but didn’t leave as he’d asked. “Duncan.” She spoke in calm even tones. “Please tell me what I did. Tell me what’s happening.”
What she did? He didn’t know. Had she done anything?
Had she been there?
Had she laughed at him with the others?
Was she laughing at him now?
She came closer, walking slowly, hands out in front of her.
Bracing his feet in the mud, he jacked forward at the waist, threw his arms up and screamed. Screamed right into her bonnie face. “Get away! Get away! Get away! Dinna touch me!”
With a loud sob, she shut her eyes and disappeared right before his very eyes.
Duncan stilled, listening. But he could hear nothing above the sound of the pulse in his ears. He inhaled, trying to get his bearings.
Where was she?
