Untamed Mate (Feral Shifters 2)

Quinton bursts into harsh laughter and releases my hair. “Are you serious? Felicity doesn’t know shit about the shadow realm or how to use the magic. The small amount of magic she has access to isn’t enough to even properly kill my men. I made them with my stone. I’m master of the shadow’s power. She is nothing.”

I shrug, swallowing down the coppery taste of blood that still coats my mouth. “I don’t know, I’d say she’s something, since you’re clearly scared of what she’s capable of. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have locked me away and tried to pry her plans from me when you thought I worked for her.”

Quinton growls in fury, then hauls back for another punch.

I let my body go loose and move with the force of the blow this time, lessening the impact. My captors hold me tight, which keeps me from falling to the floor. Nausea roils in my stomach and more blood wells in my mouth. Still, I force a laugh, just to piss him off more.

“Lock her back up,” the alpha snarls. “I’ll decide what to do with her later.”

Quinton wheels around and storms toward the entrance, and a moment later, the door slams shut behind him. As a blast of cold wind rushes around us, my two captors shove me back into my cell. The bars clang shut, and they lock me in.

I sink to the cot, probing my jaw as their footsteps move off through the building. When the wind whips my hair around me again and the door closes with a dull thud, I realize I’m not alone.

Without looking up at Kian, I make an angry noise in my throat. “Sticking around for the show? I’m sure it will be riveting. My eye will swell shut before we know it.”

“You’re an idiot,” he says in a low voice.

I laugh and test the skin around my right eye. That second punch split my eyebrow, and a thin line of blood is working its way down my skin. “Not as much of an idiot as that guy.”

“What was your goal back there?” Kian asks, his tone hard. “To piss him off so badly that he kills you?”

I finally look up. He has one hand wrapped around the bars, leaning in with a dangerous look on his face. Furious at me for poking his precious alpha.

“You act like you wanted me to stand here and beg for my life,” I say as I slip off the cot and close the small distance between us. I put my hand on the bars next to his, mimicking his tough guy pose. “Maybe you don’t know me well enough, but that’s not my style.”

Kian sighs through his nose, looking up at the ceiling for a split second as if he’s praying for strength. “What are you doing here, Amora?”

I loathe how much I like the sound of my name on his lips. A spiral of heat unfolds within me, and I shift my hand to the right, brushing his fingertips. My breath catches in my throat, but I hide it with a bloodthirsty grin. “I came to kill you.”

I don’t know why I did it, but surprisingly, he doesn’t move his hand away. We stand there, fingertip to fingertip, gazes locked.

Fuck. This is not going well.

Kian curls his fingers against mine idly, heat flaring in his eyes. “You didn’t do a very good job.”

“Well, you know,” I murmur, leaning my forehead against the bars. I can feel his breath on my face, feel the warmth from his skin. “They say practice makes perfect.”

I’m playing with fire, and I know it. But I can’t breathe under the weight of the void inside me, the place where Kian should still be a part of me. I hate him. I want him. I want to scream at him, and I want to scream his name, and I can’t get out from under any of that.

“Got a key?” I ask, my voice husky. “I could use some more practice.”

I didn’t exactly intend for the statement to come out like a double entendre, but the damage is done. A low growl rumbles from his chest and he moves his hand away from mine.

“You’re a pain in my ass,” he grunts.

I drop my hand, my skin still tingling from his touch. “Ditto.”

Latching back onto the bars, Kian shakes his head. “You shouldn’t mess with Quinton. It’s like playing with fire. The man doesn’t like being talked back to.”

Playing with fire. Something I’m well acquainted with, considering how much I wish I could slide through these bars and fuck him on the stone floor. And then kill him.

Crossing away from the bars of my cell, I sit down on the edge of the cot and tear my gaze from Kian’s gold-ringed eyes. “The man is a power hungry piece of shit, and you just bow to his every desire.”

Kian’s gaze darkens, his knuckles turning white on the bars. “Fucking hell, Amora. I’m trying to help you. To keep you alive.”

“By telling me to bow to him like a good little girl? To follow his orders like a goddamn puppy. He’s a bad guy. A power hungry monster. I’d rather die than bow to him, and you should feel the same.”

“He’s my alpha,” Kian bites out.

“It’s not my fault you’re his bitch,” I say scathingly.

Kian slams his fists against the bars, his fury rising like a third presence in the room. I jump, startled by the sudden violence, and then—embarrassed by my reaction—I leap to my feet and slam my own palms against the bars in retaliation.

He’s only inches away, and I want to rip his skin off his face with my nails. But heat flares between us. I grab the bars and suck in a breath, shock electrifying my body. The metal rods are too solid, too much of a barrier. If they weren’t here, I’d grab him, dig my nails in, and fuck him until we’re both mindless.

What the actual fuck, Amora?

Something pulses between us, seeming to fill the small space with the same kind of heaviness that sits in the atmosphere before a big storm. It’s a different feeling than the mate bond, but still intense. It’s everywhere—on the air, all around us, absolutely suffocating. Whiskey and woodsmoke makes my mouth water and my heart clench uncomfortably in my chest. The void inside me feels like a prison of its own.

I don’t understand why I feel anything at all.

Disconcerted, I wrench my fingers off the bars and turn away, breaking eye contact.

“Fuck you, Kian,” I growl. “I don’t need your help or protection. Get out.”

I leave my back to him, standing next to the cot because I can’t get any further away from him. His scent lingers, and so does he, standing silently on the other side of the bars for several long moments. I close my eyes, breathing shallowly as my heartbeat flutters and my skin prickles with sensations I can’t even name.

Finally, he walks away. I listen to every step, my eyes still closed. I don’t look after him. I don’t turn around.

Maybe if I pretend he was never here, I can forget that I even felt anything at all.