by Mel Teshco
Mahaya stood to shield her while she grabbed her clothes from nearby and clumsily pulled them on.
“Desert fever, Princess?” the leader snorted. “You nearly had me fooled.”
Fully dressed, she moved to stand beside Mahaya. She glanced up at him but his face was hard, unreadable. Didn’t matter, she sensed all too clearly his barely suppressed inner cat. She looked back at the human leader, her head held high. “Can’t say we wish it hadn’t,” she retorted. “Tell me, what gave us away?”
The dissenter arched a brow. “Let’s just say when your hero rescued you when you were giving your pretty little speech to your people, there was something recognizable about him even with the hood covering much of his face.”
“My ultra-good looks?” Mahaya mocked, clearly impervious by the fact he was nude as he faced off the dissenters.
“Your eyes,” the leader spat.
Mira released a pent-up breath. Of course. Despite the shadows thrown by the hood, someone must have glimpsed his beautiful, brilliant-green eyes. Most Zaneean people sported brown eyes. Larakytes inherited silvery-blue eyes. It was only a nightmix whose eye color seemed indiscriminate.
“What do you want from us?” she asked imperiously. If they were going to die she wasn’t doing it as a coward.
The leader clucked his tongue at her foolish audacity and withdrew his blade. “Do I need to spell it out? We want to free our people from under the larakyte rule. To do that we need to spill your blood, Princess.”
A shiver raced up and down her spine. She forced a steady voice. “By trying to spill mine you will leave us no choice but to spill yours.”
Some of the men behind their leader laughed before he said jeeringly, “You think we’re scared of a princess and one man without a weapon?
Mahaya visibly stiffened. He turned to her with a red glow in his eyes and said under his breath, “Get into the water and stay there. I’ve never given into my darkness…I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop it.”
Oh Mahaya, no.
She couldn’t say the words but Mahaya must have read them in her face.
“Just this once, trust me, Mira.”
Throat tight with fear, she nodded.
The leader brandished his sword and stepped forward, followed closely by his heavily armed men. All eyes remained on Mahaya who stood still even as she retreated one step at a time. Water lapped at her feet and ankles. Despair sped up her already galloping heart.
She had to stay strong, had to trust this once in a nightmix.
The very idea seemed inconceivable.
Yet it was their only hope.
Though Mahaya appeared powerful, invincible, he had next to no time to shift again. And shifting so soon after the first time would use up all the strength he had.
She never expected Mahaya to leap forward and shift in one fluent motion, landing on the ground as a huge black panther. She squeezed her eyes shut, sick inside as she shrank farther into the safety of the water. Heaven help him, he’d forced his shift. His strength wasn’t the issue anymore. Not when the coming pain of fallout might well kill him.
The dissenters ran toward Mahaya with shrill battle cries. He batted the raised swords away with snarls of rage, his claws then slashing and gouging flesh. But it was the leader who died first, his screams for mercy dissolving into a choked gargle before he fell, unmoving and silent, to the ground.
Not one dissenter was shown mercy as Mahaya’s claws ripped flesh into strips, his ferocious teeth cracking into bones and skull.
Men shrieked, swore and sobbed. The blood continued to spill freely.
Sinking waist-deep in the water, she clapped a hand to her mouth. But somehow her stare stayed fixed on the nightmix, despite the brutality and bloodshed. She caught glimpses of his beautiful eyes, which were no longer green. They were bright red, devoid of humanity, devoid of anything but cold-blooded killing.
She fought down a sudden urge to retch. She knew it was kill or be killed, but this wasn’t the man she knew. This was a savage, merciless monster. She swiped at the tears streaming down her face, aware she’d lost the man she’d loved even before she’d had the guts to tell him.
Mahaya’s big head swung around to her, his unblinking eyes staring at her. Just enough time for one of the dissenters to push a blade deep into the nightmix’s side. Mahaya’s roar filled the air even as he swung around. His jaw wide, he clamped onto the enemy’s face. Bones cracked and blood sprayed.
The remaining men backed away, stark terror stamped on their faces. When they spun around and fled, the nightmix pursued. He leaped and took the nearest one down. Screams pierced the air before the dissenter was forever silenced.
I can’t let this happen. I can’t let his beast overtake him as he surrenders to the killing spree. I can’t lose the one man I love to his inner darkness.
She waded from the water, gambling on the hope that beneath the violence beat the heart of the compassionate, gentle man she loved more than life itself.
She couldn’t think on the fact the nightmix might well kill her. This once, her heart ruled over her head, no logic involved. Just pure, steadfast faith.
Picking her way around the mangled and bloodied bodies of the dissenters, she made her way toward the massive, growling nightmix. His back leg muscles coiled in readiness to spring after the other fleeing humans.
She had to stop him. She had to save him before he was lost to her forever.
“Mahaya!”
As if in slow motion he turned around, all huge and black with red glowing eyes. Her heart hammered. But it was as much from love as fear. Gods, he was beautiful.
“It’s me,” she whispered, “Mira. Your Mira.”
His red eyes slowly blinked. Something human glinted beneath the fury, if she could only ignore the blood and gore dripping from his mouth. She wouldn’t even think about what she’d witnessed. She’d only think about the goodness she knew still existed.
“Change back for me,” she said gently. “Please. You’ve done what you’ve needed to protect me.”
He stalked toward her, his midnight black coat spattered with crimson, his killer instincts still all too clear.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she said in an even voice, though somewhere deep inside she was once again the terrified little girl afraid of the dark and of the hidden gene that might well see her become a nightmix.
He hesitated directly before her. Every muscle bunched in his body, readying for attack. When he snarled she reached out an unsteady hand. “You won’t hurt me, Mahaya. I believe in you. I trust you.”
Chapter Six
I believe in you. I trust you.
Somehow the words infiltrated the rage that had blocked all else in his mind. And as a sudden calm descended, other words came back to him.
It’s me, Mira. Your Mira.
And just like that his desire for violence, for killing and vengeance, dissolved. But with the adrenaline of a kill fading fast, the pain of his forced shift hit just as quick. Internal burning rushed through his body, an insufferable agony that left his whole body shaking, even before the involuntary shift back into human form.
He knew what to expect, had seen plenty of shifters in his lifetime go through fallout and then pay the price yet again by shifting back into human. But one never really understood the reality of that kind of suffering until having to experience it oneself.
Mira’s words stayed front and center in his mind.
My Mira.
Only she could have brought him back from the dark side. She would have been terrified of his nightmix, but without the very curse he carried within, they’d both be dead right then. No question.
Mira cared about him, and that made him the happiest man alive. Yes, it would take long hours for his health to be halfway normal, but they had the rest of their lives to make up for lost time. Didn’t they? As Mira hovered over him while he lay immobile and physically shattered, fractured thoughts filtered in and out of his mind.
What had she been about to tell him? What had she given her word to do?
Whatever it was he wouldn’t allow it to come between them. He’d fought too hard to save her, he couldn’t lose her now.
For long moments, he struggled against unconsciousness.
I love you, Mira. My Mira.
He woke to her cool touch on his forehead, her strong heartbeat filling his ears and her glorious scent tantalizing his nostrils. His eyes flicked open. She drew back from where she’d been crouched over him, relief evident in her misty stare.
“Welcome back,” she said softly.
He managed a smile that was part-grimace as he tried to sit, his body yet to fully repair.
“Careful, you were stabbed in the thigh, the wound hasn’t completely healed yet,” she said softly, her voice filled with concern. “I think your body had too much else to cope with first.”
He lay down. “How long have I been unconscious?”
“This is day three.”
Holy shit!
He sucked in a breath. Water wouldn’t have been a problem for her, but what had she eaten? “You managed on your own?” he croaked.
She drew back, but even before she lowered her lashes he saw a whole world of hurt in her stare. Red stained her cheeks. “You needn’t have worried, your men came looking for you, I was never going to starve.”
Only then did the bubble around them recede and he realized that, though they were outdoors, in the fresh, open air his body craved whilst healing, there was movement all around them. Men went about their business. He could hear some of them training in the art of fighting in the far off arena pit. A couple of men were much closer, checking over half a dozen horses that were tied to posts. A handful more men were on sentry duty farther away, keeping lookout.
He turned his head to where his stallion rested with the twenty or so horses corralled between two buildings, which housed many of his men. And to the left, the neglected log house he’d built in between watching out for the princess and gathering information about the dissenters.
He cleared his throat, feeling awkward, unsure. “You would have found a way to survive.”
An uncertain smile flitted across her face, making him wish he could say the right things all the time. But he wasn’t great with words in the way she was. If he were a poet, perhaps he could eloquently explain how she made his heart beat faster with just a smile. How being near her brought him to life like nothing else. How her every breath was his oxygen.
Gods, he was getting soft!
“Is there anything I can get you?” she asked.
He grinned. Actually he was getting hard. Real hard. He raised a brow. “You on my cock, riding me?”
Great going with the poetry, dickhead.
Except she didn’t seem to mind, not at all. Her tinkling laugh told him that his crudeness had somehow eased the tension between them. Bloody hell, if he thought her smile wondrous, then her laugh he could listen to all day. He inhaled, sucking in her panther heat that was exotic and feminine all in one. He itched just to touch her perfect body, her rounded breasts that perfectly filled his hands and her sweet little cunt that perfectly fit his cock.
He exhaled, wishing his thoughts hadn’t strayed so quickly into primitive territory. He was in no position right then to take advantage of her offer. Instead he fidgeted, uncomfortable by his engorged cock, not to mention the boulders that were his balls.
One of his men noticed his recovery and called out the good news to every man within hearing. Mahaya grimaced. His men surrounding him right then was the last thing he wanted.
“Good to see you up,” Deakes said approvingly as he approached.
“In every way,” another man added, drawing a hearty laugh from the growing group of amused spectators who were supposed to be the men under his command.
“Not that we can’t see why,” Deakes smoothed over with a grin. “You’ve got yourself a fine one there. We were lucky to drag her away from you the entire time you were out to it.”
He turned to her, forgetting about his men in an instant. “Is that true?”
She lifted her chin, as if in challenge. “Yes.”
He leaned forward, his mouth covering hers in a kiss that revealed to everyone the depth of his feelings for his woman. He was hard all right. And he didn’t care if the whole damn world knew.
“All right, all right, we can see when we’re all not wanted.” Deakes turned to the crowd. “Let’s leave these lovebirds alone.”
Mahaya grinned. “I thought you men would never take the hint.”
As Deakes and the men wandered away, Mahaya managed to climb to his feet. He winced as the weight of his blade clapped against the wound on his thigh. But even unconscious, his men knew better than to take away his weapon. They knew better than to take away any man’s weapon, period. It might just be what saved a life.
An arm around Mira’s shoulders brought her close before they slowly made their way to his cabin. He opened the door, surprised to see his cabin clean, with food and jugs of water and ale laid out on the rustic table. “Wow. It didn’t look like this last time I was here.”
She smiled up at him. “The men knew you would be ravenous after shifting.” Her top teeth dug into her bottom lip and she looked suddenly shy. It was a beautiful sight. “And I just wanted to make you happy. So I…cleaned.”
A princess and cleaning didn’t go hand in hand. He couldn’t have been more flummoxed if he tried. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything.” She tugged him inside and he kicked the door shut behind him with a leering grin and only one thing on his mind. Then she pulled out a chair at the table and his grin turned down at the edges. “Not just yet,” she giggled un-princesslike. “Believe me when I say you’ll need to keep up your strength.”
“Somehow I don’t mind that I really do believe you,” he muttered, his cock so hard it was beyond painful. He sat gingerly in his chair, eyeing the food with resentment even as his belly growled.
She stifled another giggle before piling his plate high with fresh game, which was no doubt one of the many stags that overran the forest now that panthers, their natural predators, had been hunted by humans to near extinction.
Adding a scoop of wild rice and some herbs, he chowed down quick, hardly tasting the food but absently aware it was delicious.
She sat opposite and he scooped up a spoonful and proffered it to her. “I’m not the only one who needs to keep up my strength.”
It was mesmerizing watching the way her pink mouth opened, her lips clamping gently over the spoon. His cock jerked, his balls fairly aching with strain as he imagined her mouth closing over his dick in just the same way.
She swallowed delicately, her tongue edging out to lick her bottom lip. “You still look hungry,” she said huskily, cheekily.
He pushed to his feet, his chair scraping back loudly and everything on the table rattling. To hell with his wound and his weak body! Right then he could take on the entire world if only he could take her in his arms this minute and remind her how good they were together.
He reached over and tucked a hand under her chin, her hair sliding like the softest silk across his knuckles. “Enough eating,” he said gruffly. “I want you.”
Her eyes fairly glowed. “But your strength—”
“Will return in its own good time.” He stared at her, letting his guard drop and all the adoration he felt for her shining through. “My Mira. Let’s go to bed.”
She swallowed, her lashes sweeping down and her cheeks reddening. “We need to talk.”
He shook his head, a sinking feeling within acknowledging the sort of talking she wanted was not of the listening variety. “No talking. Not yet. That can wait right along with my recuperation.” He strode around the table, ignoring the sharp pain in this thigh and every aching muscle that screamed protest. “Don’t deny us this. Please.”
She looked up at him and his heart beat double time. Did she kno
w how much he wanted her? How he craved her more than life itself? He’d kill anyone who touched even a hair on her head.
He restrained a growl. It was his human side as much as his inner cat that felt territorial and possessive every time he looked at her. He wanted her with a savagery and a converse tenderness that screwed with his mind.
He wanted to take her, right there, right then. He wanted to mark her, show her they were meant to be mates, destined for life. He mightn’t have royal jewels or coin to buy her trifles, but he’d lavish her with attention, spoil her in every way that counted. And he’d teach her the life skills she needed to survive in the desert, to keep her safe in every way possible.
Passion gleamed in her stare when she nodded. He whooped with the joy he didn’t bother trying to contain, before he lifted her in his arms and carried her into his bedroom. The wound in his thigh burned. He couldn’t care less. Shifters healed fast.
He laid her carefully on the large cushions that made up his bed. He helped her undress, before she helped him in return, undoing the belt cinched to his waist so that he could place his blade on the floor. Then leaning over her, his mouth covered hers, tasting her moist, honeyed sweetness.
She released a hungry little sigh and his breath shuddered into hers. Something within him uncoiled. How long since he’d imagined and dreamed of this very moment? His heart ached with it. His gut burned with need. He wouldn’t even think about the pressure in his cock, his balls. Gods, he’d not even penetrated and yet he’d never been so close to coming.
She pulled back for a moment, her eyes searching his. “Do me a favor?” she asked.
“Anything.”
She pushed him until he ceded and rolled off her and onto his back. As she climbed on board she whispered, “I’ve always wanted to do this,” before she dropped her head to his cock and drew him into his mouth.
Holy shit!
Wet heat slid down his shaft even as she gently suckled. His head jerked off the cushions then fell back as he groaned through gritted teeth. Her mouth moved up and down as though she was some practiced-by-rote harem girl, but there was no mistaking her air of innocent fascination. No mistaking her desire to please him.