►THERE'S A BEAST IN MY BONES BEGGING TO BREAK FREE◄
She pivoted to meet him like a shrieking desert wind subverting a frigid blizzard gale. They collided—a hurricane of churning sound and pulverizing energy that tore the tense forest silence around them into shreds.
They were two parts that found wholeness through destruction, true togetherness through the ferocious action of slashing and pushing and shattering, reshaping the puzzle pieces of their interactions so that they somehow fit together perfectly after each wild round of chaos. Scarlet Nights forced Kershov out of himself with weapons bared and armor useless on the ground; the pair was both vulnerable and frighteningly fatal, each strike a score that only served to mix their blood more. Kershov’s concept of “romance” was forever marred by years of pointless war and struggle in his homeland—but what else could this inexplicable attraction be? What other word could so absolutely define his unspeakable bond with Scarlet than “love”? Because as fractured and strange as their impossible link was Kershov still could not fight it, could no more deny it that he could eat his own heart, and until this blood-bathed demoness had left him the snow-born devil had not realized he was empty.
Damn her.
Praise her.
Scarlet’s fangs buried themselves into the flesh of his throat; Kershov felt their lovely pointed sharpness as they punctured skin and mined for red-hot rubies. The snarl deep in his chest shuddered with sensual, vicious laughter. His iron-strong forelimbs reached up under her own, clinging to her ribcage as he forced them both up onto their hind legs, chests pressed hard together and thundering heartbeats slamming a dissonant rhythm. The two deadly creatures struggled to simultaneously dominate and come together. Ker relished the aching scrape of her claws raking through his ice-white fur before calling on gravity and momentum to hurl the savage she-wolf to the earth.
He heard the dull thud of her impact a split second before he careened into the ground, misjudging his own power and sacrificing his position. The pallid warlord easily rolled through the motion and back onto all fours. His lungs heaved. His lonesome obsidian lantern devoured light and reflected back fury and devotion as it drank in his mate’s stunning silhouette. A serrated smile split his face in half at Scarlet Nights’ wicked banter. How effortlessly did her honeyed words stoke the blue flames licking at his ribs. How deeply did her midnight laughter weave itself into his mind and nest there like a languid knot of serpents. “How I’ve missed your pet names, lover dearest.” Even after a few breathless seconds apart, his nerve endings screamed for the sensation of her sumptuous russet-laced fur. Cruel talons raked into the earth, holding him back or preparing for launch Kershov no longer knew. He wanted her glimmering daggers to etch her name into his hide. She didn’t keep him waiting.
Kershov roared when his treasured Queen slammed back into him, throwing them into their deadly choreography once more. He grasped at her desperately, locking her closer to stab his muzzle into the richness of her thick ruff while she bit into the sensitive plane of his chest. Molten blood dripped savory and red over his throat and traced down his abdomen. If only Scarlet could eat right past his breast bone and tear out his still-beating heart with her knives—that at least would quiet the untamable torment raging storm-like inside Kershov’s battered skeleton. But no . . . she slaked a quick, tender kiss across the harsh line of his jaw, the wet warmth of her tongue arcing through the Emperor’s awareness like lightning. Need gripped Kershov in white-hot chains. If he could gain the upper hand again, he would pin her to the forest floor and make love to her until they both crumbled like ancient castles.
Somehow, his wolfess broke free. Kershov hiss viciously at the abrupt snap in contact, writhing back to his paws—and fell utterly silent at the expression of purest exhaustion on Scarlet Nights’ gorgeous face. Her composure seemed forced, as if she were standing by the power of will alone. Instinct gripped Ker’s passion-crazed mind. Something was off. He might not have known her, but he understood his mate too well to take her unexpected silence lightly. His ears perked alertly at the sound of his title. He refused to break eye contact with those drowning amber oceans.
“You have . . . we have . . .”
Kershov saw the exact instant Scarlet’s last vestige of strength left her. He was already standing beside her when her limbs gave out, cradling her so that they lay down as one. Thunder shook his chest, both from pounding panicked blood and the astonishing news Scarlet Nights had just hinted at. Had she . . . could she have possibly meant . . . ?
“My Queen,” the glacial Czar murmured, dropping a snowflake kiss on the fae’s smooth brow. Inwardly the monster battled his mounting worry with cold experience; he mentally ticked off symptoms while scanning her body for injuries incurred during their dance. He had not harmed her—thank the gods—in any way that she could not shake off, even given her . . . compromised condition. Something close to guilt threatened to encroach on the high that sang in Kershov’s veins. “You should have said something.”
The alabaster gangster only left his mate for a moment, and only after he’d rearranged her gently on her side so that she might awaken in comfort. Kershov returned with a ball of fresh water-soaked moss between his teeth and placed it by Scarlet’s muzzle; then he curled himself around her and dutifully waited for those flaming sunset eyes to open.
►NO SCREAMING NO SOBBING NO RUNNING FROM ME◄
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