Chapter Fifteen #2
She lifted one enough for him to sever the Achilles tendon and the big bastard went down hard, a ton of red, leathery skin and flailing talons.
Slay took the wounds, pushing past the downed Gol’s defenses and he finished him with a bite to the skull.
He spat a mouthful of bone and brain, wishing he could get the taste out of his mouth.
A sharp, sudden pain in his flank shorted out his brain and then he lost the fight, all his higher thought went.
Instinct. Enemies.
The jaguar smelled nobody familiar. They were all strangers.
They all needed to die. Feral, ferocious, he hunted and circled, tail lashing.
Blood in the air, on his jaws, on his paws.
The largest ones died beneath his teeth.
Mindless violence engulfed him; growls and shrieks surrounded him until the instinct to kill became his entire existence.
Pain was irrelevant, like the distant whine of an insect.
The great cat could rest only when all these tormentors were dead.
Another bite, another kill.
Another.
When the greater threats vanished, the smaller ones encircled him. He showed his teeth, warning them that they were next. He lashed out with a paw when one of them came too close.
Kill. Quickly.
They scrambled, making sounds he didn’t understand.
If they got in his way, he’d slaughter them on his way out.
This place smelled revolting, and he couldn’t wait to fight his way clear.
He raised his face, trying to get a hint of freshness, but there was no breeze.
No natural odors at all, no other animals, no spoor, at least none he recognized.
He turned, ready to make his escape, and something got in his way.
The jaguar let out a vicious roar, the only warning he’d give.
This thing wouldn’t take much to kill, small as it was.
But…something about the smell plucked at him.
Who…?
The creature made sounds, repeated them in a soft tone.
His ears rang with the echoes of other battles, a deep knocking in the earth, but nothing that was familiar.
Anger grew, warring with the confusion. He swiped with his claws, and the thing jumped back, still urgently making noise, reaching for him despite his rage and confusion.
“Slay.”
That name he recognized.
“Slay, it’s Ro.”
Suddenly, he remembered everything he’d forgotten, and he fell forward, sliding out of jaguar form, naked and bloody and trembling.
I almost hurt her. Almost hurt them all. I’m supposed to be on their side.
Slay gasped for breath, fighting the sickness roiling in his gut. He was covered in blood spatter with bone shards still gritty in his teeth, the taste of Golgoth brain lingering on his palate. It took all his self-control not to hurl in front of Kani and Nolen.
With careful hands, Rowena reached for him, steadying him. She stroked the sweaty hair away from his forehead with careful fingers. “You okay? The fight’s not over yet.”
“You were amazing,” Kani said in a small voice.
Bullshit. I nearly murdered everyone.
This was exactly what Pru had feared from Dom, a grieving leopard left to his own devices for so long. Going feral was a real danger, one Slay had exposed Pru to without a second thought. And she couldn’t even shift. Guilt rushed in, filling up the hollow spaces.
She was right to leave me.
Closing his eyes, he tipped his head back, breathing in deeply through his nose, exhaling with his mouth. His breath smelled fucking rancid, a hazard of combat that could usually be rectified with some mouthwash, clean water, and a toothbrush. He had none of those.
Finally, he mustered the strength to answer, his voice still guttural and rasping. “I’ll be fine. Thanks for bringing me back.”
“My pleasure.” She squeezed his shoulder, and more of the tension dissolved.
If he could hold her, he’d feel better, but he doubted the rest of the resistance would understand.
Hell, Rowena’s voice and her scent had pulled him back from the brink.
Sometimes when the animal took over, there was no going back, especially when the other side had been stressed, subjected to extreme duress.
When I shift next, will it happen again?
Fuck, his brain barely stayed ahead of his mouth at the best of times. At least he suspected that was true; otherwise, why did he struggle so much with bad decisions or fail to spot potential problems? In general, Slay never knew he’d fucked up until it was too late to fix it.
While he strove to get some control back, Rowena stepped into his space, seeming to know, somehow, that her scent calmed him.
Then she took it a step further and slipped her arms around his waist. There it was, the hug he’d wanted but didn’t dare ask for.
Nobody seemed to think it was odd as the others checked each other’s wounds.
Nolen was doing some first aid while Kani tore bandages.
The Gols didn’t heal like Animari, presenting a different set of problems after a battle.
Slowly he completed the embrace, trying to keep from freaking her out. But Ro wasn’t scared of him anymore, it seemed—even though he’d almost mauled her as a jaguar. She smelled of warmth and home, nestled in his arms, not even a whisper of discomfort, let alone fear.
“I could’ve hurt you,” he muttered.
Her response came with flattering swiftness. “You were confused, that’s all. But I should warn you…the battle frenzy will hit when the fighting ends. You may not be able to resist.”
Slay blinked. “ I might not?”
That didn’t even make sense.
“The Golgoth exude a certain…pheromone after a battle. I’m told it’s difficult to think. Just makes everyone want to fuck themselves boneless. I’ll try my best not to—”
“Ro,” Slay cut in, stifling a laugh. “I always want that with you. If it helps you work off stress, I’m there, consent requested and granted. So let’s finish the fighting.”
“So we can get to the fucking?” Her sultry smile just about melted him into a puddle.