But since he was hunting, answers would have to wait.
He stopped in a small clearing, his head tilting as he sniffed the air.
“Wait here,” he said, already moving through the dense trees, and he vanished.
Ash backed up until her spine hit a trunk, its bark biting through her top. The quiet swallowed her whole, and she wrapped her arms around her waist.
A ferocious growl shattered the silence, and she froze. Bodies crashed through the trees—Race in black pants, bare-chested, wrestling a blur of golden fur and muscles. They rolled through the weeds and muck, too fast for her to track, the snarls and roars tearing through the night.
Ash stood there, her throat dried out. Her nerves stretched to the breaking point until a single low snarl signaled the end of the fight.
Race rose from the ground, slinging the dead wildcat over his shoulder. Claw marks streaked across his chest, dripping red as he glanced around, his gaze finding her.
He didn’t speak. Just tossed the carcass on one of the flat stones. Heat shimmered around him, then fire rolled from his palm. The stench of burning fur and scorched meat saturated theair as he charred one leg, tore it off, and set it on the rock near her.
Ash remained statue still.
He stalked back to his kill, hunkered down, ripped the other leg free, and bit in—raw, bloody, brutal. Flesh tore. Bone cracked. He made no effort to hide anything and didn’t seem to care she was watching.
It was as if hewantedher to see him for what he was—the blood dripping from his mouth, the indifference in his eyes as he tore through the kill.
That he wasn’t human.
And never would be.
She drew in a shaky breath and looked down at the chunk of meat he’d set before her. Bile surged up her throat; whatever hunger she had shriveled and died.
He didn’t glance her way again, just kept ripping into the carcass, blood streaking his chin, his chest.
And for the first time since meeting him, real fear coiled through her.
His pretty façade was just that. Beneath it lay something savage. Ancient. Death given form.
If she weren’t careful, she’d be swept right into its path.
Chapter
Six
Race torethrough more of his kill, teeth sinking deep, watching Ash stare at the charred leg, her face pale in the moonlight. Her fear scraped against his senses, raw and acrid, merging with the coppery bite of blood in his mouth.
His dragon stirred restlessly, wanting to comfort her, but the man shoved back the urge.
Yeah, he felt that useless tug too. All pointless anyway.
Better she saw him for what he was. Better she stayed away.
He ripped off another hunk of bloody meat, chewing hard, trying to drown out the lingering scent of her arousal from when he’d caught her. His own damned fault for letting her see his primal response to her, the desire fisting him by the balls.
Fuck!He wiped his mouth with the back of his bloodied hand.
Still, she made no move to eat.
“I shared a piece of my dinner,” he drawled. “Even ruined it by burning. Don’t let it go to waste.”
Her mouth tightened, and she looked up.
He rose, ignoring the flinch that rippled through her. She looked away, then back at him, as if she couldn’t decide whether to face him or hide.
