Chapter 9
WHEN YOU FORGET TO MUTE YOUR MIC
KOL
Dawn is a grey bleed through the high vents of the cavern.
The stone floor is freezing under my bare feet. I stand midway up the western ridge, but I am not tracking the perimeter or assessing the cave exits. I am staring at the small, dark shape wrapped in hides on the opposite side of the cavern.
My eyes refuse to look away.
She didn’t run when I trapped her against the wall in the armory. Then, later, she found me and she pressed her brow against mine. She took the grinding pressure of my entire clan into her mind, and she didn’t shatter.
A hard sensation suddenly locks tight in the center of my chest.
She is not soft. She is not fragile. She is a survivor forged in a different kind of dust, but the stone underneath is exactly the same.
She is mine.
The thought doesn’t form logically. It slams into the back of my skull with the certainty of a cave-in. My claws instantly slide out of my digits, scraping against the solid stone ridge. The heat surging under my skin abruptly locks into a steady glow down both of my forearms.
She is the one.
My sternum feels like it splits open from the inside.
A sharp hiss tears its way up my throat. I lock my jaw instantly, biting my own tongue to kill the sound. But it forces me onto one knee, my claws gripping the ridge so hard the stone cracks.
For one single moment, Xiraxis is perfectly clear. I know exactly what I am. I know exactly who she is to me.
Then, the pain hits.
My skin abruptly pulls tight across my chest, like my hide has suddenly shrunk. A ripple rolls under the surface of the skin just below my collarbone, like my own organs are tearing themselves apart and rebuilding themselves.
I drag a harsh, ragged breath through my teeth. I have fought stalkers with a shattered arm, but this crushing, agonizing pressure drops me blind in the dark.
I force the agony down, locking it behind a brutal mental wall lest it reach the rest of the clan.
It takes all I have. The stabbing fire slowly recedes to a dull, constant burn behind my chest.
I stand up slowly, my jaw locking against the tight, unnatural pulling of my own skin.
I am the shield of this clan. I will not show weakness. I will endure the sensation of my chest being roasted from the inside out in silence.
The cold stone of my high ledge bites into my bare back.
I lie flat, staring blindly up into the pitch-black ceiling. The cavern air is freezing, but my body is radiating an unnatural heat.
The restructuring is a constant, grinding agony in my chest. The skin over my collarbones feels tight enough to tear. My glow has started to pulse erratically in the dark, flaring hot with every wave of pain.
I close my eyes and try to push my focus outward, extending my senses into the dark to search for perimeter breaches.
Instead, the dream drags me under.
I am standing in the center of the dark cavern. It is empty. There is no clan. There is no war. There is only her.
She is standing three paces away. Her thin coverings are gone and she is wrapped in the hides of my bedroll. The edge of the fur slips off her pale shoulder, exposing the long curve of her neck, the sharp line of her collarbone, the soft swell of flesh beneath.
My body moves without a single conscious command.
I close the distance in two strides and reach out.
Both claws span her narrow waist as I haul her flush against my chest so hard the air punches out of her lungs.
Her bare skin burns against my hide. Everywhere.
The softness of her pressed tight against the unyielding wall of my body.
My claws drag slowly up her spine, pressing into the delicate notches of bone beneath her skin. She arches into me. Her head falls back, baring the entire length of her throat.
I take it.
My mouth opens hot against the base of her neck. I drag my tongue flat across the rapid hammer of her pulse, tasting salt and the sweet, devastating scent that has been driving me out of my skull for days. I growl against her skin and the vibration makes her entire body shake.
Her small hands move against my chest markings as she pulls herself higher, wrapping both of her legs around my waist, locking her ankles against my back, and the full, grinding pressure of her body settling against mine sends a white-hot bolt of raw need straight through my dra-kir.
I slam her back against the cold stone wall and pin her there with my hips. One broad claw cups the back of her skull, the other grips the bare curve of her thigh, and I rock forward into the heat trapped between us.
She gasps my name, breathless. Her digits rake down my chest, dragging over the raised ridges of my carved markings, and the sensation is so sharp, so blindingly good that I lose sense of time and place.
I want to devour her. I want to pin her flat and drag my tongue down the center of her body until she can’t remember her own name.
I want to bury myself so deep inside her that the entire mindspace lights up with it.
My fangs scrape the soft, terrifyingly fragile curve where her neck meets her shoulder, my open mouth pressing hard, tasting the salt pooling in the hollow of her collarbone, and the primal, hammering drive to bite down, to sink, to mark.
My eyes snap open.
I drag a ragged, desperate breath into my lungs. My entire body is rigid and there is a deep pulse in my loins that I have never felt there before.
Before I can even process the lingering taste of salt on my tongue, the mindspace explodes.
It hits me hard. Thirty separate consciousnesses, tearing out of sleep simultaneously. Total, collective shock.
I wasn’t shielding.
The horrifying realization drops my core temperature to freezing.
The dream wasn’t contained in my own head.
My incredibly intimate, feral, completely unhinged fantasies about the little human just broadcasted live, at maximum volume, directly into the minds of every single warrior in my entire clan.
ERIKA
I wake up shivering.
The pre-dawn air in the cavern is freezing, but my skin is too hot. The low-grade headache at my temples is a constant annoying pressure, like someone pressing a thumb directly behind my right eye.
I slide off the woven mat and drag a hand roughly over my face, trying to clear the smoke-drenched remnants of last night’s dream from my head. The same dizzying dream. Rough hands gripping my waist, a towering golden presence pulsing against my spine, the sharp scent of dust and heated stone.
I start toward the water basins on weak legs.
Two unmated warriors are pacing near the weapons rack. They move with erratic, restless energy. When I walk past, one of them steps sharply backward, flattening his spine against the rock to give me a wider berth.
I frown, rubbing my temple, my gaze darting toward the central fire pit. Kol is already there. Sitting perfectly still, his broad body turned fully toward me.
His eyes are already locked on me. They don’t waver.
“Good morning,” I say quietly as I pass him.
He tilts his head slightly, and I swallow.
I reach the bathing pools feeling thoroughly confused and plunge both my hands directly into the freezing water.
Jacqui is already awake and adjusting a full gourd bowl. She looks up at me.
“You look like hell,” she says cheerfully.
“I feel like I was run over by a hot tractor,” I mutter back, splashing icy liquid onto my burning face.
Mikaela walks up behind Jacqui, holding a bundle of dried gourd flesh, and they share a very specific, silent look.
“Why are the guards pacing?” I ask, wiping the icy water from my chin. “And why is Kol staring at me like I’m on fire?”
“Sleep okay?” Jacqui asks, crouching in front of the stone basin.
“Why?” I ask, my eyes narrowing.
“Any dreams?” Mikaela adds, trying and failing to hide an enormous grin.
I go still.
The memory of the golden light floods my brain. The solid warmth of a broad chest. The hot mouth pressing firmly against the side of my neck.
“Why are you asking about my dreams?” I ask, my voice dropping.
Jacqui sighs, crossing her arms. “Because Kol had a dream last night, Erika. And... he broadcast it. To everyone.”
My stomach plummets straight into my boots.
“He broadcast it,” I repeat.
Jacqui nods. “His hands spanning your entire waist. Your legs wrapped around his back.” She flutters her eyes and sways her body. “His fangs scraping against your neck... well. You get the idea. It was extremely detailed.”
“Dios mío,” I whisper, closing my eyes. I can feel the heat radiating off my own skin. The ambient temperature of the cave suddenly feels ten degrees hotter.
Mikaela smiles. “The unmated males are pacing holes into the rock because Kol basically flooded their heads with a full, high-definition experience of what they’re all missing. They’re climbing the walls.”
A slow, burning flush creeps up my neck and floods my cheeks.
“I won the broadcast pool,” she adds, crossing her arms looking incredibly smug. “Two extra pieces of jerky for me.”
I open my eyes and glare at her. “There really is a bet?”
“There are several, actually,” Jacqui says.
“I am going to kill both of you.”
“You’re blushing,” Mikaela points out, tapping her own cheek. “That counts as a win for my secondary timeline.”
I refuse to engage. I turn on my heel and walk rapidly toward the alcove with the mapping table, my footsteps echoing too loudly against the rock.
Warriors are already surrounding the stone, which looks like a petrified tree trunk. As I approach, the crowd parts fast. Several of them stare openly at me. They jerk their heads away the second I catch them looking.
Kol is standing at the head of the stone. His shoulders are tight. His hands are planted flat against the scored surface. When I step into the empty space directly at his right side, he turns his head slowly and looks down at me.
The weight of his golden stare is staggering. It is also unapologetic.