Ryder thrusts deep enough to make lightning flash through my vision. His teeth trace his marks from earlier without embedding. My pussy stretches for what he called his “knot.” It’s almost painful but also leads to ongoing pleasure as my body craves nothing more than to curl up and remain submissive for him. His knot makes him unbelievably large, but I’d die happy if he never pulled out. There’s a bit of pain combined with a lot of pleasure—and it’s so worth it.
“I love the look of you like this.” His hands clamp my hips to slow my rocking as he presses me into the ground. “You won’t be going anywhere for a while, so enjoy it.”
“Is it always like this?”
When Ryder meets my eyes, there’s something totally unexpected in his expression—something that makes my stomach twist painfully at the sight of his skin losing a bit of that outdoors tan.
Guilt.
“No.” He swallows. “Carina—” A snap of his own teeth followed by a growl cuts him off. His body goes deathly still, his face flushing, and his nostrils flare with his deep inhale.
Instantly and spurred by the change of demeanour, his knot deflates and he slides from me, his body on full alert now.
“What is it?”
I’m met with silence—and then a wolf who prowls in front of me, his tail swatting at my thighs. His furry head jerks in the direction of the camp, but he’s insane if he believes I’ll leave him. The power inside me—my water magick and the black magick—tingles beneath my palms.
With every passing second, my water dries up, only leaving space for Darkness. For the promise of death to any who’d harm me or Ryder.
In a line, three figures draped in black emerge from the trees.
Ryder snaps his teeth, which is pointless. We both know who these people are. Right on schedule, in the early dredges of day eight, Twilight Grove has arrived.
“Well,” a low, almost seductive voice drifts my way, “Carina Hargrove. You’re a difficult woman to get a hold of these days. Nearly as difficult as the day your mother ran from us. Such a shame how that ended.”
My heart slams to a stop at hearing her speak about the woman who died saving me. Fighting about the past won’t help my future, though. I love what my birth mother did for me, but right now, I refuse to die while attempting to avenge her.
Putting aside being naked in front of three strangers, I step around Ryder to make a barrier between him and them. Teeth graze my hand before an annoyed snap of his jaw begs me to get behind him again.
“Run,” I whisper. “Ryder,go.”
The middle witch—the one who spoke—steps forward. Shadows and the cloak’s hood hide her face, but I’d bet all my magick this is Sloane, Twilight Grove’s Head Priestess and the one behind the deaths of Harlow’s parents.
She studies me and then Ryder, putting two and two together with a slow curl of her lips. “Look at history repeating itself.”
Whatever she’s going on about, it’s merely a distraction, which is why I knock my hip into Ryder, demanding he run, while greeting her. “Sloane, I presume?”
She dips her head, her arms spreading to the side. Her sleeves drip toward the ground like a waterfall of despair that matches her long black hair. “Blessed Be.”
The greeting of the Goddess is unfitting for those who turn away from Her, but pointing this out isn’t the hill I’d like to die on.
“I’m here, so you’ll leave the pack alone.” Not a question, but a confirmation and a demand.
“Of course.” TheSends on a slither, like she’s pondering something. “But I’m sensing the old shifter no longer requires us since you’ve taken the magick for yourself. Darkness recognizes Darkness,” she explains at my intake of breath. “I see it in you. There isn’t much, but it’s a start. We were never a coven to interact well with others, so you have my word: I’ll leave the pack alone.”
“Never worked well with others…except vampires,” I counter, the words out before stopping them.
Harlow was once held by her fake parents until Cedric—a vampire working with Sloane and Alec’s long-time friend—was sent to come for her. Some vampires have allied themselves with Sloane in exchange for the protection of her black magick.
Sloane clasps her hands together, seeming oddly pleased. “At least Morgan isn’t keeping you in the dark about everything. As I’ve said, you have my word. The pack will be left alone.”
Ryder whines, pressing his snout into my hand, but I cross my arms to prevent him from touching me. “And your coven.” The others who came with her have been unmoving, but I don’t trust them. “Twilight Grove will not harm the pack nor Highridge Coven. Nor will you or any of your coven hire outsiders to harm either the pack or my coven.”
Sloane’s smile expands like an animal ready to strike—much like the one by my feet. “You will make a great High Priestess one day. You have my word that neither your coven nor the pack will come to harm by my hand, by anyone else in Twilight Grove, or by anyone we coerce or hire.”
Did I miss anything else? I certainly hope not.
“Then I’ll come with you.”
