Until the dark trees around us fall away, and two other men stand in a clearing beneath the full light of my Goddess Moon.
Fuck…
I pause there at the lining of the trees. A hundred yards separate me from my pack. No one knows I’m here.
And now I am outnumbered.
But I am fierce.
My spine straightens. When all three of them look up at me, that familiar look of surprised awe touches their brows. It’s a look I normally roll my eyes at, but right now I’m more concerned about whether they think they just hit the homicide jackpot.
I take a single step back, and at the same time, one of them takes a slow cautious step forward. “We don’t want to hurt you,” he says in a voice of sensual serenity. The sound of it is like a warm breeze caressing my skin.
“I mean, we can’t guarantee she won’t be, either,” The Hell Cunt who brought me here scoffs with a deadly smile nicking his lips.
“Roman,” the larger man in the middle warns, speaking for the first time.
His pure black hair is pulled back, and the length of it is tethered tightly against the back of his head, but several braids are strung throughout it. It’s the one thing I notice. The other man also has a thick braid tying his hair back to a bun at the back of his head.
All except for Hell Cunt Roman. His is shaved close.
No pretty updos for him, it seems.
The three of them don’t wear a stitch of clothing, and every line of their hard bodies is painted in the moonlight.
I assess the level of threat their strength implies… Sure, I also assess other uses for their toned, perfect bodies, but the girth and length of certain parts of them go nearly unnoticed.
…Nearly.
“My mate will come looking for me,” I tell them calmly with a casual tilt of my chin. “He’s the jealous type. Very hostile. And when he shifts, I can’t stop the violence of his beast.”
Lies. Lies. Lies.
If Mika were the jealous type, he wouldn’t mate with the one woman every male in this pack leers at from afar.
“Mate?” Hell Cunt whispers, looking to the guy who seems very much in charge of the burly band of idiots.
“She has no mate.” The caressingly peaceful voice of the appraising shifter is the calmer man of the three and he dares to take another slow step closer. “Her words were spoken too quickly. She’s afraid of us. You don’t have to be afraid of us,” he reassures once more, and my ovaries would honestly believe any sweet fucking word he said as long as he keeps talking like he’s a breath away from an orgasm. His tone is too poetic. Too calming.
It’s too sweet right now when my mind is racing between trusting him and killing him. He’s a watchful man. Except he doesn’t actually watch me. He assesses the air around where I stand, and he has yet to meet my peering eyes.
It’s…odd…very—
“Are you blind?” I blurt suddenly as the interest in me becomes too much.
“I am.” As he confirms it, a shy smile presses to his full lips, and I don’t know why the simple fact makes me trust him even more.
He can’t see me. He has no idea if I’m the most beautiful woman in the world or an ass goblin looking for a new hole to crawl into. It’s exhilarating.
“She’s not nearly as pretty as the Night Witch babbled,” Hell Cunt tells his blind friend.
And though I appreciate that the blind man can’t judge me on my appearance, I’m fucking outraged that this asshole continuously ignores the fact that he’d give his right nut for the chance to inhale my breath during flu season.
There he goes again, wrecking my humbleness.
I release a very quiet, very composed sigh as I meet this gaze.
He fucking smiles.
