I look up to see Chaz’s mother watching me with a cautious expression, like she’s wondering if I’m a secret enemy approaching like the Trojan Horse. Yes, I know about the Trojan Horse. Immortals trapped in a cage tend to tell stories to pass the time.
“It’s not unnecessary for him,” I explain, watching as she still studies me.
“It’s unreliable as well,” his mother adds, still regarding me w
ith something akin to curiosity. There’s no real bite to her words.
“It’s better than risking—”
“We’ve just lost someone, and you’re here,” another voice cuts in, interrupting me, and I look over to see Frankie—the light user. His voice turns more hostile as his eyes narrow. “What have you come for? Do you expect us to believe the scarred menace sent you to offer his condolences? Can’t you give us a fucking minute to grieve a friend who never should have died?”
A vicious growl breaks free from Chaz, and Gage cautions him. “Frankie, don’t provoke her,” he says softly.
Frankie doesn’t listen. In fact, he only grows angrier.
“Our friend died after you offered us a supposed olive branch, yet miraculously, we’re ambushed on that exact day and Amy is taken. According to your boyfriend, she’s dead.” His voice gets louder as he glares at me, and another growl rumbles across the air.
Frankie is too focused on me to realize the mistake he’s making.
“Frankie,” Dice warns. “I’d seriously shut up right now.”
Frankie doesn’t shut up. Not even a little bit. “Then, just to cover your fucking trail, you accuse Amy’s night stalker of being the traitor who gave our location. How stupid do you think we are right now? For all we know, you killed her yourself just to please that lunatic that you’re probably fucking.”
A violent roar tears across the land so loudly that it vibrates me to my core. I’m not the only one who felt the vibrations. Chaz roars again, and this time, I feel the tickle of it in my chest, and the dark promise of it in the pit of my stomach. It’s not a threat. It’s a battle cry.
Frankie shrinks back with a confused expression as more fire circles the hands of the man barely in control.
“Lower your voice,” Chaz’s mother says to Frankie as she carefully steps in front of him.
“What the hell?” Frankie asks, paling a little as Chaz growls and approaches them slowly.
He’s definitely going to attack, damn it.
“He’s protective of her, you idiot,” I hear Thad hiss, and I look up to see him balling his fists, prepared for a fight. “And he’s on the edge.”
Thad has an array of beasts inside him—not a beast as dangerous as Chaz’s, but he still understands how far you can push or can’t push.
Just as Chaz raises his hand to do something he’ll regret, I rush him from the side, racing toward him with all my strength, and collide with him before he can attack. As we fall, I dematerialize us, and I push hard, dragging us as far away as I’m capable.
We drop to the ground with me on top of him as soon as we rematerialize over one of the underground bunkers for my group, and I shudder against Chaz when another savage growl tears from his throat.
What if he kills me? I really didn’t think this through.
My eyes snap to his, dreading what I’ll find, but as soon as I meet those flaming black orbs, two powerful hands grab my ass, and a strong set of lips crush against mine.
In one move, Chaz flips me, never breaking the kiss, and his hands come up, jerking mine above my head. One of his hands clasps both of mine above me, and his other hand comes down to roughly jerk my shirt up, exposing my lower half to him as he stays between my legs.
I suck in a breath when I realize what he wants. There’s more than one way to tame a beast.
He growls as he stares at the new flesh he’s exposed, and everything on me tightens. I’ve spent the bulk of my life in survival mode. Excitement, nervousness, neediness, hungriness... All of those feelings are stirring wildly inside me, and I wonder if this is what it’s like just to feel alive instead of simply surviving.
His lips find mine in a brutal, savage kiss that almost feels like desperation or punishment. All it does is ratchet up the desire that is driving me right now, causing me to lose focus on everything else going on and all the dangers being with him would involve.
My legs spread wider, giving him room to come down lower on me, and the material of his jeans brush against my flesh. It’s like a live wire to my body. Everything is turning me on, especially the way he’s kissing me like he can’t possibly get enough.
He breaks the kiss as he sniffs the air, then glares down at my shirt as a more threatening growl rumbles from his chest. He’s still feral and half out of his mind as he rips it down the middle and tears it away from me, tossing it far away.
I’m faced with a moral dilemma, considering he’s not of sound mind. Would it be taking advantage of him to do this right now when the risks are so grave?