Page 4 of The Hunter

Lacey’s scent crashed into him, banishing the words from his mind.

It was layered, potent, and alluring. Reminiscent of sunlit grass, warmed, sweet goldcrests, herbs, incense, and a hint of cleanleaf, all bound together by a deeper scent, one that was wholly hers. It was heady yet soothing, soft yet insistent, earthy and warm and seductive, a fog enveloping him and permeating his mind.

He drew in a deep breath, taking more of Lacey’s scent into his lungs. Heat crackled beneath his hide and pooled in his belly. Telok crossed his claspers over his slit and pushed them down hard, battling the growing pressure in his stem, the hunger stirring in his core, the instincts snarling in the back of his mind.

By the Eight, he longed to be enwrapped in this fragrance and never released. Longed to claim the female it belonged to, needed to claim her. She was meant to be his. Lacey was⁠—

Telok growled and pressed one of his lower hands over his claspers, increasing the pressure on his slit as his stem strained against the constraint. He had no claim on Lacey, and he would not make one.

Because eventually…the Tangle devoured everything.

With a ragged exhalation, he withdrew his hand and forced his attention to the den. The place was as colorful as it was cluttered. Bundles of various plants and flowers hung from the ceiling in differing states of drying. Jars, pots, and baskets along the walls and shelves held more plants and other ingredients, and the low table to the side was covered in more of it, along with chunks of soap, deep bowls of powdery mixtures, and notes written in small, odd human symbols.

Lacey’s garments hung in a small recess. The few pieces left from the ship were worn and faded from heavy use and hard travel, while the silk clothes beside them were new and vibrant. Nearby lay the pallet of blankets and furs that served as her bed.

But Lacey wasn’t here.

Roused by the sight of her bed, memories coalesced in his mind. Memories of Lacey lying there with her eyes closed in peaceful slumber, the fringes of her dark lashes resting upon her cheeks, her hair drawn into a loose bun that revealed her slender neck, and her bare, freckled skin bathed in the silvery moonlight streaming in through the window. Unclothed, unconcerned, vulnerable…free.

And more alluring than ever.

It was a sight Telok hadn’t been meant to see; he’d know that from the moment he’d first beheld her that way. Restlessness and worry had driven him from his den and set him to striding around Kaldarak, but primal instinct had guided him to Lacey’s den. Desire and curiosity had lured him to the window to glance inside. And hunger had kept him in place, shrouded in shadows, to watch as she slept.

He’d told himself it was all to protect his tribe, to watch for danger as the rest of them slumbered. Who else would do so if not him? All he’d needed was to know that they were safe and sleeping soundly.

But when he finally left her den that night, he hadn’t gone to check on anyone else. He’d returned to his own den, where he’d lain awake with his stem aching behind his slit and images of Lacey in her bed tormenting him until suncrest.

The next night, he’d repeated that shadowy journey. He’d come back here again and again, more times that he cared to count, over the last several eightdays. The impulse had spawned a habit, habit had grown into need, and now he would find himself tossing and turning, the serenity of sleep just beyond his grasp, on any night he abstained.

Every time he went, he told himself it was to safeguard his tribe, but he knew that had never been true. Yet recognizing the lie he’d told himself hadn’t stopped him.

He could see her in his mind’s eye now, right there before him. Prey taunting a predator, daring him to strike, urging him to touch.

If only his memories of how she felt were as clear as those of how she looked. The times he’d touched her had been so few, so fleeting, and they’d been so long ago…

Gods, he longed to feel that smooth flesh beneath his hands again, to feel her softness yield to his hardness, to explore every bit of her by touch. He longed to breathe in Lacey’s fragrance directly from her skin as her warmth radiated into his hide, to draw her into his arms and learn just how well her supple little body would fit against him.

Telok took a step toward her bed before halting himself. That inner fire thrummed throughout his body, flooding his muscles with maddening tension, and a throbbing ache pervaded his groin.

He needed to mark this place with his scent, to ensure she would know that he’d been here, that he belonged here, that she was his. He needed to find Lacey, to mark her. To claim her.

Lifting a foreleg, he bent its lowest segment and brushed it over her bedding to leave his scent behind. Lacey’s fragrance caressed the fine hairs on his hide, making him shudder.

What the fuck am I doing?

Hissing, Telok buried the fingers of his upper hands in his hair and staggered backward, gritting his teeth against those insistent urges. Every thread of his being roared in fury at his resistance.

All he had to do was take her—rut her, mate her—and his suffering would end.

But he knew it wouldn’t end. Life was suffering, life was loss, and the humans were small, soft creatures who’d come from a smaller, softer world. No matter how hard Telok and his tribe fought, the Tangle would have its way in the end.

That thought shattered the haze that had seized him. Tearing his hands free of his hair, he retreated from Lacey’s den and strode several segments away from it before he allowed himself to breathe in the fresh air. Strands of hair that had come loose from his topknot dangled in his face, drifting in the breeze.

Even after numerous breaths, Lacey’s scent lingered around him, upon him, within him, determined to haunt him.

Damn his eyes, but he’d nearly lost himself to her fucking scent. That was why he kept away from her whenever possible. That was why this had been so foolish. He’d known the likelihood of something like this happening, of his self-control crumbling to dust, of him acting upon fierce, primal instinct.

But no matter how many times Telok told himself to stay away, he could not.