Page 47 of The Hunted

Because he did.

But he also fucked her like a dying man receiving his last moments of pleasure.

Because maybe he was.

TEN

Arelle

“PRINCE ERYX … Prince!”

“Eryx!”

“Is anyone out there?”

Arelle blinked awake to a canopy of trees and bright spots of purple behind the large green fan leaves hanging from the branches. It gave her just enough cover from the morning sun that she was sure sunlight hadn’t been the thing to wake her up.

That purple …

She breathed in, and then out again. Over and over until the haziness cleared from her vision, the sleepiness in her mind drifted away, and she had a better understanding of her current situation.

It wasn’t often she woke up anywhere but her grotto or the palace. Never mind the fact that she hadn’t ever awoken under trees, with a purple sky overhead—the only sign that a storm had passed and for the moment, all was good and safe in the sky and sea—and the earth under her back acting as her bed.

Arelle flexed her toes, not her tail fin as she would usually do every morning to loosen up, feeling dirt and rocks scrape against her sensitive skin. The sting had her hissing, but it wasn’t the only thing on her body that hurt at the moment.

The warm firmness at her back relaxed her, but she had to wonder if she dared to move. The hard lines that surely felt like a man tucked into her back made her feel safe, and even in her heart, the sentiment echoed over and over again. But the very fact she could feel someone else behind her had Arelle tensing.

Which did nothing good for the rest of her.

She didn’t need to test her body to know just how stiff it was. Even the slightest of movements had every muscle in her body protesting. It took her far too long to realize and remember why she was where she was, and just who was sleeping beside her on the still-damp ground.

The man.

All at once, memories of the night before slammed into her mind. Her sister, the ships … She’d been right because it was a trap. The man in the water, and then everything that had come after the moment she’d decided to save him.

She’d done far more than just save him. The very second Arelle dragged the halfling man onto land, she’d made her first mistake. The second their blood had started to mingle, there had been absolutely no coming back from what she had started between the two of them.

Had he even known what they’d done?

What it meant?

How now, because of the night before, the two of them would be tied together forever. Irrevocably. The bond was started—made. It hadn’t been finished properly, and not even witnessed like most matings would be, but Arelle already knew that wouldn’t make a difference.

How did she know?

Because now … already, Arelle could feel her mate within her. His magic was hers; hers became his. The thrall that had been unique to each of them was now shared. He was right behind her, touching her, but even if he hadn’t been, it would be okay. Because she would still feel him. Or hear him, if that’s what he wanted. He was an echo in her mind. An imprint on her soul. Within the very beats of her heart.

That was the bond.

They would share the same air.

Linked minds.

Unable to stand separation.

And all because of what?

To save his life.