Chapter 5

Make sure you follow us wherever you get your podcasts. VERONICA Blood. Heat. Hunger. It was chaos in Veronica’s world. Her heart thundered against her ribcage, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she clung to Damien. His body was still taut from the fight, golden eyes burning in a way that made her shiver. The taste of his lips was still hanging on hers, the smell of blood heavy in the air between them. She wasn’t afraid. She ought to have been, but she wasn’t. The hunters had run into the night, but the damage was done. The war was not over, and she knew she had crossed a line she could never step back from. Damien had claimed her. Not only with his body but with his instincts, by showing up with the violent, desperate way he kept her safe. He pulled back, panting heavily. His fingers dug into her waist, not hard enough to hurt but enough to warn her that he was still holding himself back. That he was still battling the primal urges raging within him. “You’re bleeding,” he growled, his voice raw, dangerous. Veronica looked down at the light slice on her neck, nothing more than a scratch in reflection of all the carnage they had just gone through. “It’s nothing.” But Damien wasn’t listening. His gaze turned stormy, and his hand shot up to touch the wound, fingers blood-slicked. The muscle in his jaw tightened, his nostrils flaring, taking a deep breath. And then he was on her. His mouth slammed against hers with manic urgency, his hands clenching her form like he meant to meld her into his own. She gasped, and he used the moment to go deeper, his tongue insistent, possessive. The taste of blood, of fear, of victory. It was intoxicating. She moaned against his mouth, her fingers raking down his back, chasing the heat of his skin, the raw strength waiting to erupt just below the skin. Damien’s hands were everywhere, gripping, possessing, claiming. He shoved her back against the mottled bark of a tree, pinning his body against hers so that she could feel every ridge of muscle, every quaking coil of need contained within him. “I should stop,” he breathed against her mouth, and already his hands were sliding under her shirt, his claws raking over her skin, igniting fire in their path. “But you don’t,” she said softly, tilting her head to expose her throat to him. A growl rumbled low in his chest, and he bit down not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to send a bolt of pure want racing down her spine. His tongue darted over the sensitive spot, relieving the sting, and she gave a shuddering breath. She was lost. And she didn’t care. DAMIEN He had lost control. He’d known it was inevitable from the instant her blood touched his tongue, from the instant the addictive scent of her wrapped around him. He had never wanted anything more than he wanted Veronica at this moment: wild, breathless, willing. But even as he shoved her to the brink, as her body melted into his, he knew there was danger. This wasn’t just lust. This wasn’t just instinct. This was something more sinister, more profound. This was the bond. He traced her neck with his fingers, the area where his mark would be. Where it would be, if he allowed himself to take what was his. But when he did, there’d be no going back. No denying what they were. A growl of frustration ripped from his throat as he pulled away from her, his body vibrating with restraint. Veronica panted, the rise and fall of her chest planted after their kisses had swollen her lips. “Damien” “Not here,” he growled. “Not like this.” Her eyes bounded with defiance, “but before she could argue, there was a different sound cutting through the shimmer of heat that stood between them. A scream. Sharp, agonized, and close. Damien froze, his head turning sharply in the direction of the sound. His instincts ignited, all thoughts of pleasure eliminated in an instant. “They’re back,” he snarled. Veronica grabbed his arm. “Then let’s end this.” THE SLAUGHTER Things shifted, pictures blurred, the forest shaking with movement, the shadows slipping from tree to tree. Damien was a predator on the hunt, senses honed, beast clawing at his skin. He did not wait for the hunters to strike; he struck first. The first hunter had no time to even raise his weapon before Damien’s claws raked across his throat. Blood spattered across the leaves, but Damien didn’t stop. He pivoted, seized another by the arm, twisting until the bone broke with a sickening crack. Veronica was behind him, struggling with ferocity. She was human, but she was savage—using her slight figure to her favor, avoiding blades, moving in, striking with pinpoint accuracy. She ducked under a swing gone wild, plunging her stolen dagger into the hunter’s gut and twisting like a sickening dog. Screams echoed through the night, and Damien felt only cold satisfaction. Those men had come for his mate. They had dared to lay hands on what belonged to him. And they would pay in blood. One of the hunters shot, the bullet ripping into Damien’s side. He growled but hardly flinched. Pain was nothing. Not when his rage was this strong, this all-consuming. He leapt forward and tackled the hunter to the ground, and his claws sank into soft flesh, ripping him like paper. The man’s scream ended in a wet gurgle. The fight lasted only a few minutes. Blood pooled on the ground, the hunters’ bodies strewn across the forest floor. There was the density of death in the air, its odor sticking to his skin. Veronica surveyed the carnage around her, panting, her hands smeared with crimson. Her gaze locked with Damien’s; her expression was inscrutable. “We did it,” she whispered. Damien took a step toward her, a hand out. A gunshot rang out. Veronica’s body jerked violently, her eyes round in shock. Blood flowered across her abdomen. Damien roared, breaking her fall, heart pounding into his chest. “No, no, no.” The last hunter, hanging on to life, issued a choked laugh, his pistol steaming in his quaking grip. “Too late,” he rasped. Damien didn’t think. He tore the man in half, rage consuming him, sight only of red. Then, silence. He closed his hands against the cut, panic tearing at his chest, and turned back to Veronica. “Stay with me,” he pleaded, voice ragged. “I won’t let you go. I can’t let you go.” He just made them cough, blood smeared on their hands. “Damien…” His beast howled in agony. And then Her eyes fluttered shut.