Jaw clenched, he ushered Ash through the kitchen door. She stumbled, and he caught her arm. The brief contact sent heat pulsing through his blood. Even inhaling the sharp, stringent scents of herbs and woodsmoke couldn’t blunt the strains of his spiking rut.
But Ash’s exhaustion wrapped around him like barbs. He wanted to scoop her up and take her upstairs—he resisted, his muscles rigid with the effort.
Being alone with her was dangerous.
Already she suspected something was wrong, and he refused to subject her to the brutal frenzy of rutting.
That fever was a godsdamn bitch.
Voices drifted from the common room down the passage. Ash paused, her gaze sharpening. “Is everyone here?”
He nodded. “Not everyone, just Attor and Skaldr. Bregga’s in his room.”
As they entered, Race’s fingers skimmed her back before clenching into a fist, the need within him clawing like a living thing.
Ash smiled at the males, and Race scowled.Why the hell was she smiling at them?
“Everything’s in place?” she asked Attor.
“Why? You plan on helping us set up the charges?” Skaldr taunted, straightening from the map spread on the table.
Race started forward. She beat him to it. “If you can’t do it, then I will. Just like I’ll summon the storm to keep your arse safe.”
The power in her voice hit him square in the chest. His mate, so fierce, so capable. His dragon rumbled in approval as desire clawed at his control.
Despite himself, a slow smile tugged at his mouth.
Skaldr blinked, then a wry grin broke free. “Nah, I’ll handle the explosives, female. You just keep my—our—asses safe.”
Attor chuckled. “Well done, lass?—”
“Ash,” she corrected. “Or Ashaya.”
Skaldr lifted both hands. “Right then, Ashaya. I’m out. Need to check guard rotations at the mountain.”
He left, and Race exhaled. “Skaldr can be a dick or a damn keg about to explode.”
But his mate was a total fucking badass.
“His chest-banging antics don’t intimidate me,” she muttered.
Pleased as fuck she sent the ass scurrying, Race set their backpack on the bottom stair and retreated to the window. She removed her puffy jacket and leaned over the map on the table, studying the underground tunnels. Her scent intensified in the warmth of the room, dragging at his control. Jaw tight, he watched her.
Attor pointed out the locations where they planned to set up the explosives.
She nodded, then murmured, “I need to freshen up.”
Why the hell was she telling Attor that?
A growl caught in his throat, his voice more a rasp, “You should rest.”
Those cool champagne eyes lifted to his, unreadable. The tension between them tightened another notch. The urge to close the distance and tear down the wall twisted his gut.
Then what?
A single touch, and the rut would consume him—and lives would be lost because that shit taking hold of him would last three fucking days. And Ash? No, he could hurt her with the raw, brutal need. Or worse, impregnate her.
He dragged in a rough breath, his muscles locking tight, and just about managed a cool, “The coming hours will be…hard.”
