32. Dryston
Chapter 32
Dryston
I t took much of the evening and later into the night to trek back to Tannin’s. Tannin—who Onora had once had a fling with. Her old flame. Something white hot and raging coursed low in Dryston’s belly, a furious rage he had to calm down. Tannin had helped them. While he and Onora were nothing.
Onora took a break, taking a drink from her water skin, then turning and handing it to him. He took it, their hands grazing, and a jolt like lightning raced up his arm and he yanked it away too forcefully. She raised a brow but said nothing, and he took a hefty swig from it, wishing it was alcohol or something to calm his racing mind.
She pulled out the map and compass Tannin had given them and came close, showing him the forests and other markers.
“I think we’re a little off from where we need to be. We should head north for a bit and see if we can find this grove,” she said.
He leaned down, drawn to her like gravity, clearing his throat and staring at the map to pretend that’s what he wanted to get closer to. Then he was hit with it—the scent of her fertility.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Visions of her sitting on his face, him lapping up the taste of her cunt, ran through his mind, consuming him.
He drew in a deep breath and straightened, calming himself. If she truly was his mate, he’d have to find a way to quell the mating frenzy until it was over. Maybe forever if she didn’t want him.
He stepped away from her—one long step, then another. She gave him a questioning look, but he ignored it, heading north, moving fast. He wouldn’t leave her behind, but if he could get some distance between them, that would be best for his sanity.
Onora kept up, her lithe feet doing well in the woods, despite the size and strength advantage of demons. She was faster than many of them, and Dryston found he’d have to go comically and suspiciously fast to get the desired distance between them.
Well, fuck.
“You’re keeping up quite well,” he said, trying desperately to ignore all of his senses that were pointed toward her. She was fertile. He could smell it like the nectar of the forest, and it was making him insane.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m a ranger. I think I should be able to. Besides, don’t underestimate humans.”
“I’m not. I’m just surprised at how fast you are.”
“I’m faster than you.”
“Okay,” he conceded like one would to a child, smiling.
Her nostrils flared. “I am. I’m certain of it.”
“Of course, of course,” he said again, placating. “You’re a fast little one.”
“You’re so fucking patronizing,” she spat as he laughed.
“A very fiery little thing.” His voice was deep and full of humor and her brow furrowed deeper.
“Fuck you.”
“As I already told you, only if you ask nicely.”
Her cheeks colored, and she took in a heavy breath.
“Or should I make you beg for it?” he asked, knowing he was treading dangerous territory and completely unable to stop himself.
“I’m not into your sick foreplay, bat.”
He smirked. “I’m not so sure about that.”
“Race me.”
He frowned, having to backtrack. Hadn’t they been flirting? “What?”
“Race me, unless you’re scared.”
“I’m not scared of you,” he said, rubbing his jaw.
“First one back to the house wins,” she said, checking the laces on her boots.
His pulse thrummed, and he swallowed. “This isn’t a good idea, Onora.”
“Why?” She stepped close, looking up at him, her eyes full of mischief. He could smell her well and good now, the scent enough to knock him to his knees. “Is your ego too fragile to handle potentially losing to a woman?”
“It’s not that, it’s?—”
She scoffed. “Then let’s go.”
“Excuse me?”
“Race me. Now. Let’s see who’s faster and more agile.”
Images of her running from him filled his mind and, quite against his will, his blood started pumping faster, his cock warming.
Fuck.
“Do not run from me,” he growled.
“ Excuse me ?” Onora mockingly threw his words back at him.
She took a step forward, but before she could take another, he grabbed her wrist. “I’m being serious, don’t run from me.”
She yanked her arm free. “Or what?”
He didn’t have time to formulate a coherent response that didn’t make him sound terrible—insane, horrible. Because in a flash, she was off, running away from him, fast as a deer.
And he was following, his mind bent on one thing—tackling her.
Then claiming her thoroughly.