them. On four legs, tan with spots and fangs like a saber-toothed cat. It was trying real hard to scare the shit out of them, but Lucian knew it would never hurt them—Cruen wouldn’t ruin what he was protecting, saving…Problem was, Bronwyn didn’t know that.
She screamed and took off running, away from the beach and into the forest.
“Bronwyn!” Lucian shouted after her. “Goddamn it!”
The animal slowed, waiting. It was a panther or some type of cat hybrid. Its blue eyes watched Lucian to see what he would do next, his mouth nearly curling up in a grin.
“What the fuck are you, kitty?” he said with a snarl.
With that, the animal growled again, then turned tail and ran after Bronwyn. Something clicked inside Lucian, like a flipped switch of blinding ferocity he had no idea he possessed. Animal to animal—predator against predator.
Same prey.
He took off, running at top speed into the forest, the forest he’d checked out several times during their stay here. Over small peaks, past palms and other trees he didn’t recognize but scented. His awareness ratcheted up, he scented everything now, intensely, including the cat and the
veana
.
His blood jumped and pumped in his veins as he ran, as he slowed—as he spotted the cat through a stand of trees, running as he was running. It was like he was competing with this fur asshole for Bronwyn. Something his rational self would never do. He knew it and yet he couldn’t stop it—stop himself.
The sounds of speed echoed in his ears—
whoosh
,
hiss
—and he took off again, running toward her, her scent—and the scent of his own blood.
The cat swerved in front of him, cutting him off, and Lucian reached out to grab it, haul it to the ground, but he missed, his hand grasping at air. He growled in defeatand the cat cried out in triumph as it got lost once again in the woods.
Lucian picked up speed—pure instinct now—leaping over a stream and heading down a hillside. Bronwyn was close; he could feel it, feel her. And her scent…God, his mind and body were reeling from it.
Then, from overhead, the cat leaped from a rock and onto Lucian’s back. Nails dug into his skin and he went down. But only for a second. With sudden fierce strength, he reached around, grabbed the animal, and tossed it off his back, his flesh ripped and bleeding and stinging like a motherfucker. But he didn’t care, didn’t slow. The thing went rolling away and Lucian prepared for another battle. Then he saw Bronwyn. Down in the gully, near the creak. She’d fallen over a thick root in the ground, and was on her hands and knees. Her bare ass exposed, his shirt nearly up to her neck, ripped apart by branches or whatever had barred her way as she’d tried to escape the animal.
Or him.
He was down the hill and on her in seconds, rolling her to her back—initially out of protection, his eyes shifting every which way to search for the cat.
But it was gone.
That animal was gone.
The one that remained, however—the one that raged inside of Lucian wanted what he’d caught. Snarling down at her, he ripped the rest of his shirt off her and bared his fangs, ready to strike—ready to have her.
MINE
. Panting with hunger and the need to claim his kill, Lucian hovered over her.
Mine,
he thought wildly.
Do it!
Take her now!
Breathing heavily, Bronwyn stared up at him, her eyes wide with fear and excitement and hunger. She licked her dry lips.
Fuck
.
Oh, God…Oh, shit. He shook his head, tried to clear his mind, force it to think, to process—to reason. He knew, understood what was at work here. The animal—whatever it was—had been sent here to push him forward, torment him, get him inside Bronwyn Kettler once and for all. With or without her consent.
But he wasn’t the goddamn Breeding Male.
Not yet.
Panting and cursing, Lucian closed the fabric of his shirt as best he could to cover her, then pushed himself off of her.
For a moment, he sat there, his chest rising and
She screamed and took off running, away from the beach and into the forest.
“Bronwyn!” Lucian shouted after her. “Goddamn it!”
The animal slowed, waiting. It was a panther or some type of cat hybrid. Its blue eyes watched Lucian to see what he would do next, his mouth nearly curling up in a grin.
“What the fuck are you, kitty?” he said with a snarl.
With that, the animal growled again, then turned tail and ran after Bronwyn. Something clicked inside Lucian, like a flipped switch of blinding ferocity he had no idea he possessed. Animal to animal—predator against predator.
Same prey.
He took off, running at top speed into the forest, the forest he’d checked out several times during their stay here. Over small peaks, past palms and other trees he didn’t recognize but scented. His awareness ratcheted up, he scented everything now, intensely, including the cat and the
veana
.
His blood jumped and pumped in his veins as he ran, as he slowed—as he spotted the cat through a stand of trees, running as he was running. It was like he was competing with this fur asshole for Bronwyn. Something his rational self would never do. He knew it and yet he couldn’t stop it—stop himself.
The sounds of speed echoed in his ears—
whoosh
,
hiss
—and he took off again, running toward her, her scent—and the scent of his own blood.
The cat swerved in front of him, cutting him off, and Lucian reached out to grab it, haul it to the ground, but he missed, his hand grasping at air. He growled in defeatand the cat cried out in triumph as it got lost once again in the woods.
Lucian picked up speed—pure instinct now—leaping over a stream and heading down a hillside. Bronwyn was close; he could feel it, feel her. And her scent…God, his mind and body were reeling from it.
Then, from overhead, the cat leaped from a rock and onto Lucian’s back. Nails dug into his skin and he went down. But only for a second. With sudden fierce strength, he reached around, grabbed the animal, and tossed it off his back, his flesh ripped and bleeding and stinging like a motherfucker. But he didn’t care, didn’t slow. The thing went rolling away and Lucian prepared for another battle. Then he saw Bronwyn. Down in the gully, near the creak. She’d fallen over a thick root in the ground, and was on her hands and knees. Her bare ass exposed, his shirt nearly up to her neck, ripped apart by branches or whatever had barred her way as she’d tried to escape the animal.
Or him.
He was down the hill and on her in seconds, rolling her to her back—initially out of protection, his eyes shifting every which way to search for the cat.
But it was gone.
That animal was gone.
The one that remained, however—the one that raged inside of Lucian wanted what he’d caught. Snarling down at her, he ripped the rest of his shirt off her and bared his fangs, ready to strike—ready to have her.
MINE
. Panting with hunger and the need to claim his kill, Lucian hovered over her.
Mine,
he thought wildly.
Do it!
Take her now!
Breathing heavily, Bronwyn stared up at him, her eyes wide with fear and excitement and hunger. She licked her dry lips.
Fuck
.
Oh, God…Oh, shit. He shook his head, tried to clear his mind, force it to think, to process—to reason. He knew, understood what was at work here. The animal—whatever it was—had been sent here to push him forward, torment him, get him inside Bronwyn Kettler once and for all. With or without her consent.
But he wasn’t the goddamn Breeding Male.
Not yet.
Panting and cursing, Lucian closed the fabric of his shirt as best he could to cover her, then pushed himself off of her.
For a moment, he sat there, his chest rising and
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