Her fangs sank into his wrist. Hot, iron-sweet blood spilled over her tongue.
Gerard roared, his other hand slamming into her gut. Pain exploded through her ribs, knocking the air from her lungs. She gagged, spitting his blood onto the floor.
His hands were on her again before she recovered. He wrenched her around, arms pinning hers tight to her sides, her back flush against his chest.
“You think you have the right to fight back?” His breath ghosted her ear. “I guess I’ll have to remind you who you belong to.”
“Thorn said—”
“Thorn said I couldn’t fuck you.” His grip tightened. “He never said I couldn’t put you in your place.”
Elora thrashed, but his grip was iron. He was bigger, stronger—he dragged her toward a storage closet.
No, no, no!
He kicked the door open and shoved her forward. She crashed into the shelving, pain bursting across her shoulder. The door slammed shut behind him. He thought he had won, that she was tired. Weak.
The normal Elora was, but this Elora, feral and untamed, was just getting started.
He yanked her off the ground, and she acted. Slashing her claws across his face faster than he could react. Carving through skin. Tearing through flesh. Gerard’s scream bounced off the walls in the small closet. It was music to her ears.
Blood sprayed against the wall. He stumbled back, clutching his face. Three deep gashes ran from his right eye to his cheek, leaking rivers of red through his fingers.
Elora didn’t stop. She lunged, grabbing him by the throat, her claws digging deep, drawing more blood. She spun, throwing himinto the shelves. He hit with a grunt, linens and spare uniforms falling to the ground around them.
He tried to move. He swung blindly, but his swelling eye, the blood dripping into his vision, made him slow. But she saw him clearly. See how pathetic he was. How desperate his movements were. He reached for her. Claws met flesh again. Another gash. Another choked scream.
She shoved him, and this time, he collapsed completely. Blood pooled beneath him, soaking into fabric and stone. He would probably bleed out.Finish it. Kill him.The beast whispered into her mind.
The thought came so naturally; it scared her. She looked down at her hands, at the blood beneath her nails and coating the front of her dress. Why did she want to lick her fingers?
What did Thorn turn me into?
Her gaze snapped back to Gerard. His hand twitched, reaching for her weakly. She had the capacity to kill him. He already looked on the verge of death, anyway.
No.She refused to give in and let the beast consume her. What would be left of her if she crossed that line?
Instead, she kneeled down in front of him. “No one owns me,” she growled. “Not you, not Thorn. Nobody.” His lips parted, but no sound came.
She rose, towering above him. Without feeding her instincts to end it all, she left. Stepping back into the hallway, shutting the door behind her. No time to think. No time to process. She just had to hope no one would find him until she was long gone.
Chapter 39
Elora
Eloraslipped quietly into the storage room. The moment she entered, Tehvan stopped pacing, his anxious energy freezing as his gaze locked onto her. Even in the minimal light, she could see the worry etched deep into his face, his normally composed demeanor cracked by her lateness.
Tehvan crossed the room, clutching her shoulders. His fingers dug in slightly, as if he were trying to steady himself as much as her. His eyes flickered over her face, her sharp pupils, then down to her hands, where her claws, stained red, glinted faintly in the light. He hadn’t seen her like this yet. His expression—shock, confusion, and something close to helplessness—made Elora’s feel the need to apologize. He didn’t know how to help her. He didn’t understand what Thorn had done to her, and the pain of that realization was evident in his eyes.
Tehvan shook his head quickly, forcing himself to focus. “Are you okay?” He looked over her more thoroughly. “What took so long?”
Elora swallowed hard, pushing back the images of Gerard and Viliam from her mind. She wasn’t ready to tell Tehvan everything, certainly not about releasing a massive, winged predator into TheInstitute. She knew Tehvan wouldn’t approve. It was a risk, an unnecessary complication to their carefully laid plan.
“I’m fine,” she said, a little too quickly, brushing his concerns aside. “It was... Gerard.” The name tasted bitter in her mouth, and she saw Tehvan’s eyes darken with understanding. “He cornered me. I… dealt with him,” she added.
Tehvan frowned, his gaze searching hers. “Dealt with him?” He didn’t press for more, yet his eyes were drawn to the dried blood on her claws.
She glanced away. “It’s nothing we have to worry about now. We need to go, Tehvan. We don’t have time.” Her words came out sharper than she intended, her nerves frayed from the encounter with Gerard and everything else. It was impossible for her to slow down now, not when they were so close to leaving.
