I go faster, harder, pushing my breaking body to its absolute limits.
We breachthe main tunnel entrance deep in the dark cycle.
The tension pulling at the hook in my chest eases instantly the moment I step into the cool shadows of the caverns. I drag a desperate, grounding breath of air into my lungs.
The scorching gold blazing from my chest settles into a steady bronze.
Eh-ree-kah is pacing near the water filters.
Her dark eyes dart toward the tunnel opening before snapping back to the piece of rough fiber in her hands. Her scent is spiked with a restless, churning anxiety.
She is waiting for me.
My feet eat the distance across the cavern floor. I ignore Sarven as he steps forward. I ignore the sentries filtering in behind me.
Eh-ree-kah stops pacing. She drops the fiber.
I step directly into her space, letting my towering frame cast a shadow over her. My arm wraps around her waist, my forearm banding tightly against her back as I haul her flush against my chest.
Right in the center of the camp.
Her hands fly up, her soft palms flattening against the hard, carved ridges of my chest. The jolt of her touch nearly drops me to my knees. The starlight under my skin burns, desperate to reach her. I bury my face in the curve of her neck, dragging in a chest-rattling breath of her scent.
The pulse in her delicate throat flutters against my lips. Her skin is soft under my rigid forearm. The sweet, warm scent of her mane spills off her body, flooding the cavern.
A quiet energy ripples through the open mindspace. My warriors are watching. The thrum of a dozen unbonded males presses into my unprotected mind.
It is an ache that has been vibrating in the shadows ever since Rok brought Jus-teen into this cavern. The realization that there is something more to this existence than merely fighting the dust.
They smell my female. They see the desperate way my arms lock her against my chest. And the weight of their loneliness fills the open mindspace. It’s raw. An ache of something missing. Something they cannot explain.
“Kol?” Her voice is a breathless whisper against my collarbone.
I pull back just enough to see her face. The dark flush creeping up her throat is beautiful. I want to crush my mouth against it. I want to drag her into my alcove and tear those strange thin coverings off her.
But the bitter scent of Lucek’s hunters is still thick in my nose.
I press my forehead hard against hers. I do not bother trying to soften it. The bridge between our minds slams open.
“Lucek’s hunters,” I project, the thought rough and unhindered. “They are on our border. The trail is fresh.”
Her entire body goes rigid in my arms. A wave of pure, icy terror floods through the link. The smell of her fear makes myfangs ache. My claws flex against the small of her back, ready to tear apart anything that tries to touch her.
But the terror only lasts a heartbeat.
She sucks in a sharp breath. Her jaw clicks shut. Through the bridge, the ice shatters, replaced by a sudden, fierce heat.
She pulls her head back. Her dark eyes lock onto mine. They are not wide with panic. They do not leak water either. They are narrowed.
“How many?” she asks. Her voice does not shake.
The deep, foreign pulse in my groin kicks so hard my vision spots. She is soft. She has no claws. A single blow from a sand-mite would kill her. But she is standing against my chest, demanding the number of her enemies.
“Enough to leave a trail I could smell from the ridge,” I project. “A full party. Maybe more.”
She nods and pushes her hands against my chest.
My arms instantly lock. I do not want to let her go. Mydra-kirscreams to keep her caged against me until the blood is washed from the valley.
