Bethany's Rite (21 page)

Bethany immediately released his dick. Screamed. Bucked hard
against him. He held her clamped to his face with his hands pressed hard into
the sweet flesh of her ass.

Heat flooded her pussy, scorching his tongue. Fresh, hot
cream flowed from her opening. Her thighs pressed and released, pressed and
released with the contractions of her climax. Writhing and rearing up, she rode
his face like a wild woman on the back of an untamed animal. Still he held her
locked to him. Forced her to accept every moment of bliss.

When the quaking of her body faded to a light shivering, Wyc
pulled the vibrating egg out of her vagina, turned it off and dropped it on the
rug. He continued to lick the cream from her pussy and thighs as she lay on top
of his body, a boneless mass of sated woman. Her head rested on his inner
thigh, her rough breaths blowing hot over his engorged cock.

After a minute, he felt the swipe of her tongue over his
shaft. His teeth snapped together with an audible click as the effects of that
single action blasted through his nervous system to explode behind his eyes in
a fiery finale.

Bethany pushed to her hands and knees, straddling his body
with her cunt hovering over him still wet and red from her recent climax. She
took him in one hand, bent down, her hard little nipples branding his abdomen,
and closed her mouth over him. He groaned and reached for her breasts.

It soon became evident that she had been paying attention
earlier. Again and again she sucked hard on the head, followed by one firm,
continual lick down and back up his entire length before covering his tip with
lightning-fast flicks.

In his hands, her breasts swelled and her nipples chafed his
palms. Over him, her pussy swayed back and forth just inches from his face. No
way in hell was he going to last very long with this show going on. Another
long sweep of her tongue down his cock and her pussy rocked forward, gifting
him with the sight of the tight little hole he planned on fucking.

This time, when she reached the base of his shaft, her
tongue swirled over his balls. The muscles in his back clenched, his hands
tightened on her breasts and he broke out into feverish sweat. By the time she
licked her way back up to the head of his cock, he was set to detonate.

The moment he felt her mouth open around his cock, his hips
surged up, pushing himself deep inside.

Bethany didn’t balk. Bracing herself with both hands on the
floor, she held herself steady for his thrusts. At first he tried to hold back,
to make sure this was what Bethany wanted because it sure as hell was answering
his most fervent prayers at the moment. She moved her tongue side to side in
her mouth against his shaft and hummed her encouragement.

Wyc’s balls drew up tight and his hips bucked involuntarily.
In his mind, he remembered how it looked for her to swallow his entire dick,
her hair falling in a silky curtain around her face, lips stretched taut, eyes
closed with concentration as she loved him. Above him, her labia began to swell
again, the little nub between them poking out with pouty insistence. A drop of
pussy juice slid from her cunt and down her thigh. She was getting turned on by
eating him.

Fuck!

Every thread of control he had left snapped clean off. His
hips came off the ground and stayed off the ground as they pistoned hard and
fast. The head of his cock butted against the back of her throat and then down
it. His climax tore through him with blinding speed as ecstasy gripped him and
ripped his release out of him in pulsing, fiery streams.

His neck arched, tendons straining. His stubbled chin
scraped Bethany’s pussy and she jolted as he matched the roar of his blood with
a roar that echoed through the cabin.

Bethany released his cock and rolled off him. For long
moments, they lay beside each other, breathing hard and staring at the ceiling.
When he was able, he lifted his hand and rested it on the top of her thigh.

“Did you come when my chin scraped against you?” he asked,
still fighting his labored breathing.

“Yes,” she whispered. Her breathing sounded no better.

“Good.”

Silence ruled again as neither had the energy to speak, let
alone move. If he had his way, he’d keep Bethany naked and on this rug for
weeks. He wouldn’t let her up until she took him as her mate. Hell, even then
he’d keep her naked as long as she’d let him.

Every time they came together she simply and totally undid
him. Until he found Bethany, he’d resigned himself to a bleak life of duty to
responsibilities as a royal heir. But in his mate, he found a sweetness and
vibrancy to life he’d thought he’d lost forever. The woman made him lose his
control, act like a raging lunatic and often made his life a living hell. But every
time she gifted him with another piece of herself and reached out to trust him,
it was worth it.

Soon, she’d trust him enough to fully accept him as her
mate. Soon.

But not soon enough. Not with the threat to her life still
out there.

He glanced out the window. The sun was fully up now, warm
beams of light streaming through the windows. Outside, birds chattered, and the
wind occasionally rustled the aspens flanking the house, making soft shushing
noises when the branches brushed the log siding. Nearly indiscernible over the
heavy scent of sex that permeated the room was the smell of burned candles and
the barely smoldering fire.

He needed food and Bethany needed coffee. Next time, he’d
remember to set the timer on the coffeepot and put emergency rations within
arm’s length. He thought about moving again. His body didn’t respond. The only
thing that changed position was his eyelids. They closed.

“Goddamn, woman. One of these days you’re going to fucking
kill me.”

“It’s only fair,” she replied, languid amusement coloring
her voice. “Since you’re trying to kill me with fucking.”

For at least the hundredth time that afternoon, Bethany
circled through the house. Replaying the conversation she had with Wyc right
before he left.

“Stay in the house until I get back,” he said. “I’m not
going far and shouldn’t be gone long.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

“Stay in the house,” he repeated.

“I heard you the first time.”

“I’m not questioning your hearing. I’m questioning your
doing.”

Okay, so her track record hadn’t been the best in following
through with what he asked her to do. But not all of it had been her fault. And
besides, being hunted was a brand-new experience for her. The closest she had
ever come to playing the part of prey was when an overeager frat boy had
followed her home. But just the threat of a face full of pepper spray had him
off to search for a quick lay in a more amenable field.

Bethany looked down at the light wooden floor polished to a
high sheen and considered counting the slats. God, she was losing it. Bored,
bored, bored. If there had only been a TV in the house it would have helped.
But unless it was hidden behind a secret panel, she was out of luck.

After stretching her shower out to the longest in her life,
she dressed in jeans and a clean blouse, remembering to put on a bra this time.
She prowled through the house, looking for something to do, something to read.
But she gave up on Rordyc’s choice of reading material after thumbing through a
copy of the
Kama Sutra
,
The Joy of Sex
, a volume detailing
Tantric sex and a sex toy manual that cleared up the mystery to several of the
items in the bedroom’s armoire.

There were plenty of other options, including an entire
shelf of erotic fiction, but she didn’t need any help with horniness at the
moment, thank you very much. Especially since Wyc was taking so damn long to
return.

At one point, she had found herself in the kitchen staring
at the flour jar with the thought of passing the time baking a mouthwatering
treat from scratch. But ten minutes of trying to come up with what one added to
flour besides chocolate chips to make cookies cured that absurd idea.

She even tried to whittle a stick with the knife Kayn had
given her, but for the life of her couldn’t see the point to making a small
stick smaller. She had ended up flicking the blade open and shut for close to
an hour like some jaded ex-con from a B-movie sitting on a run-down stoop,
waiting for life to give him a break.

Cabin fever sucked. Stir crazy from being so bored, she
refused to consider she was actually missing Wyc. He had only been gone, what?
Five, six hours? And he had called to check on her. Once.

God. What the hell was she going to do when he walked out of
her life for good?

She couldn’t go there. Not after spending the night and
morning in his arms. Not when his whisker burn was freshly faded from her inner
thighs and breasts.

He had said he wasn’t going far, but he had sure been gone a
long time for someone sticking close. She looked out the bedroom window and
then walked into the living room for another lap around the couch.

She had wanted to go with him to talk to Rordyc, but didn’t
argue when he refused to take her. She agreed that she needed to stay hidden
until they discovered how she was being tracked, especially since the first
Predator to have found her was still out there. The thought of ever coming
face-to-face with Enath again sent a cold chill down her spine. She hugged her
arms close around her body, the beautiful house suddenly feeling too big and
too empty. Damn. Where was Wyc?

Footsteps crossing the planked porch kicked her heartbeat
into high gear. She ran across the living room and yanked the door open.

“It took you—”

In less time than it took to blink, the world froze around
Bethany. The heart that been racing in expectation crashed into her ribs and
came to a sudden stop.

Enath stood framed in the doorway, a sneer stretching over
his loathsome features. “Miss me?”

Bethany was running before she even realized she had turned
away from him. Heading toward the French doors in the bedroom. Blood roared in
her ears with the fear pounding through her veins.

The Predator wasn’t slowed by his bulk. She hadn’t gotten
past the couch when his hard hands clamped into her flesh. His fingers dug into
her arms and he yanked her back against his body.

“You’re mine now, bitch.”

Bethany’s emotional terror ripped through Wyc’s mind. Like
being body-slammed against a brick wall, the effect was brutally crushing. For
a moment that passed like a century, fear held his feet to the ground, froze
his breath in his lungs and took every coherent thought captive.

And then he was running. Transforming. Not taking the time
to strip in order to completely alter his state. Concentrating solely on
reaching Bethany. Taking a giant leap off two feet and landing on four. The
distance disappeared beneath him, but it wasn’t fast enough.

He was too far from her to have heard a scream with his
ears, but the intensity of her distress howled through the connection he held
to her. Her terror and panic sliced through every emotion he had, leaving his
soul in shreds.

Fuck it! If he had made her complete the Mating Rite, he
would have felt her danger long before her very life force cried out in mortal
fear. He would know exactly where she was, would be drawn directly to her.
Instead, if she wasn’t where he told her to be, he might not find her in time.
Just once, please, all deities in all the heavens, let Bethany be where he had
told her to stay.

Bethany screamed and thrashed against Enath. Kicked back
with her heels, connecting several times. It made no difference as Enath
dragged her out the front door of the cabin.

He forced her around the side of the house, her heels
leaving deep grooves in the ground as her fight to get free escalated alongside
her panic. She stared in disbelief when she saw where he was taking her. A
shimmering circle hung in the air halfway down the path to the lake.

“You can’t take me through a portal. I won’t step through of
my own free will.”

“You have no idea how persuasive I can be.” The amusement in
his voice infuriated her beyond her fear.

With a volatile hiss, she wrenched an arm free. Clawed at
the hand still holding her. Enath cursed and jerked her nearly off her feet.
When she stumbled, he grabbed her arm again and twisted it up behind her until
she cried out. Not once had he stopped moving toward the portal.

“You should know,” he said close to her ear, sending spittle
flying across her shoulder, “I enjoy finding exactly what it takes to make a
woman beg me to take her through the portal just so I’ll stop playing with her,
even for a moment.” His hand snaked around her waist and up to her breast. He
fondled it roughly and then pinched her nipple until she gasped from the pain.

He released her breast and slid his hand between her legs.
“We’re going to have a lot of fun.”

She let out a snarl of outrage and bucked against him.

“That’s good,” he crooned. “Fight me. It ruins the challenge
if you break right away.”

His hips ground against her backside and Bethany fought down
the nausea making her stomach lurch wildly. What had Wyc told her about
Predators? Their two areas of vulnerability—their throat and the very center of
their chest. Neither of which she could reach the way he held her. Damn it.
Where was Wyc?

He had been able to touch her mind. Could she reach his?

She tried to concentrate. Focus on Wyc. Find a connection.

Nothing. Save her own mounting panic as Enath continued to
heave her closer and closer to the portal. The arm he had twisted behind her back
began to throb and her nostrils filled with the scent of her own terror.

Giving up on trying to reach Wyc through a mental bond she
had no idea if she could even use, she tipped her head back and screamed. A
piercing, desperate cry that echoed through the mountains, carrying the sound
of her fury and despair through the clear mountain air.

Enath’s jaw clapped shut with an audible, sharp click and
the deep warning sound of a deranged beast spiraled out of his chest. Bethany
strained against his hold and screamed again.

The Predator shook her with a force that had her head
snapping back and forth. “Shut up, bitch. Quit making that noise.”

She took a deep breath and prepared to let loose the
loudest, shrillest scream of her life.

He released the grip he had on her pussy and slapped his
hand over her mouth. His move freed the arm that had been trapped against her
side.

Shoving her hand in her pocket, she slid her fingers around
the cold, comforting shape of the switchblade Kayn had given her.

Enath shifted his hold again. With one hand still over her
mouth, his other arm wrapped completely around her upper torso, flattening her
breasts with his forearm and pinning her back to his chest.

He spun her toward the portal and she saw it flicker.
Shrink. Enath’s movements became tinged with urgency as he shoved her forward.

She yanked the knife out of her pocket, pressed the blade
open and stabbed it into the arm vised around her chest.

Blood spurted and soaked into her shirt. He howled in pain.
Released her to pull the knife out of his arm.

Bethany dropped to the ground. He lunged at her, slashing
the knife before him. She rolled away from the wild swing of the blade.

Her feet tangled in his as he turned to lash out at her
again. He tripped, tumbled toward the fading portal. Bethany drew back her
legs, and with the full force of her fury marshaled for attack, hit him with a
kick powerful enough to shove him directly into the portal.

Enath let loose a vicious shout of rage as he was sucked
from this world. The gateway undulated like a puddle disturbed by a stone as it
swallowed the Predator.

Bethany scrambled to her feet and backed away from the spot
where the portal flickered erratically for several seconds before disappearing
completely. She stood, shaking, too afraid to blink, watching the air and
waiting for it to shimmer again and release the monster back to her. Her chest
heaved on a sob of relief and shock when Enath failed to reappear. Her head
spun with the dizzy elation of being awarded life in the face of certain death.
Wrapping her arms around her middle with viselike force, she concentrated on
stopping the racking shudders convulsing her body.

Suddenly, from behind her, something large moved over the
ground straight toward her.

A cry of battered outrage nearly choked her as she spun to
confront the new threat.

Wyc cleared a fallen tree and landed in time to see Enath
stumble backwards and disappear through a dimming portal. The Predator’s shout
of rage followed him out of this world, fading as the shimmering gateway shrunk
into oblivion.

Shit. Since when were the Sleht able to start activating
unsupported portals? They couldn’t. Unsupported portals only opened by the free
will of a Keeper and were held in place with royal blood. More evidence that
Rordyc’s fear of treachery within the Ilyrian nobility was more on target than
he would have believed.

Wyc jerked to his feet, barely having time to return to his
natural form before Bethany spun around, fear and rage stamped on her face and
in her straining muscles and fisted hands. She blinked, registered his presence
and threw herself at him. Her hands clutched his shirt, and her body shook in
his arms.

“I stayed where you told me to,” her voice wobbled over the
words. “I didn’t leave. I wanted to, I was so bored, but I didn’t—”

“I know, babydoll. I know.” He brushed his lips across the
top of her head. “Shhh.”

Too relieved she was alive, he could do no more than hold
her, rocking her close to his chest. Trapping her tightly against him, he tried
to quench the desperate need to reassure himself that she was all right. Not
taken, not injured, not dead.

When her trembling subsided, he pulled back enough to see
her face. It was pale, her eyes wide with shock and blood smeared across her
cheek.

Fear scraped its icy nails down the inside of his skin as he
realized there was also blood staining one side of her shirt. Gently, he
lowered her to the ground and then ripped her blouse open with a savage
movement that popped buttons off to land lost in the grass.

“Where are you hurt, Bethany? What did that bastard do to
you?” Wyc felt the cold sweep of panic as he took in the amount of blood but
couldn’t find the wound. If he didn’t get the bleeding stopped soon, he could
still lose her. She was trying to tell him something, but he couldn’t hear over
the roar of his own breath rushing in and out of his lungs.

Bethany closed her hands over his and stopped his frantic
movements. “I’m not hurt. It’s Enath’s blood.”

He inhaled the scent of the crimson stain. Not Bethany’s.
Enath’s. He should have recognized the smell immediately. But seeing Bethany
covered in blood froze everything in his mind except the lashing fear that his
life had just ended.

“I’m fine.” She gave him a reassuring smile that wasn’t
reassuring at all given her face had as much color as a corpse and her eyes
were still glazed and dilated from the horror of what she had just lived
through.

“Well, I’m sure the hell not,” he growled and tore the shirt
from her body. He had no patience for tender expressions of love and gratitude.
She was alive. Unhurt. And he needed her. Now. Needed to have her body wrapped
around his, letting him know for certain that she was unharmed. That she was
whole. That he was whole. Because without her, he would not be complete. Would
never be again.

“Wyc, I—” Bethany froze, her terrified gaze fixed on a spot
above his right shoulder. At the same moment, he heard a shuffling step on the
grass behind him.

Instinctively, Wyc pushed away from her and kicked back in
the direction her eyes had focused. His foot connected with solid flesh, and as
he rolled to his feet, he watched Enath stumble backwards into a tree. He heard
Bethany scurry away to a safe distance, and with that knowledge, allowed his
concentration to laser onto the menace facing him.

The Predator snarled, his lips curling away from his teeth.
Bright red scratches slashed across his cheek and down his neck. Blood ran in
thin rivulets down his left arm and dripped from his fingers. His flat, beady
eyes narrowed, and he crouched to spring.

Wyc had never welcomed a chance to take out a Predator so
much in his life. The sharp, consuming anguish of almost losing Bethany
coalesced into one solid mass of hate for the creature before him. The need to
avenge his brothers’ deaths paled in the face of the fury of nearly having his
woman taken from him. Simply for touching her, Enath would die.

Suddenly, a rock zinged past his head and hit Enath hard on
the temple. If Enath hadn’t jerked out of the way at the last minute, it would
have nailed him right in the middle of the forehead.

For less than an instant, Enath’s eyes flicked over to
Bethany, unrestrained violence blackening his gaze. He lifted the arm that had
a long, ragged gash in it and shook drops of blood into the grass.

Wyc realized that whatever had happened between Enath and
Bethany before he arrived, Enath was now taking this retrieval personally.
Anger had submerged the Predator’s strictly trained responses. A low, furious
hum vibrated from the Sleht’s throat and the edges of his eyes twitched
erratically.

“First, I’m going to kill you,” Enath hissed, sending
spittle flying from the side of his mouth, “and then I’m going to make that
bitch of yours suffer in ways she’s never begun to imagine.” He swiped at the
thin trail of blood trickling into his eye from the wound the rock had
inflicted.

Wyc almost smiled. Bethany. He had never asked her what
position she played on her softball team. His bet would be pitcher. Two more
large rocks whizzed through the air following Enath’s declaration. One slammed
into the Predator’s shoulder and the other hit just below his ear. Enath let
out a deafening bellow and charged.

Wyc twisted out of the way as Enath surged toward him. Enath
lunged sideways as he fell, snagging Wyc’s leg and tumbling them both down
together. They rolled over the rough ground, each grappling for the dominant
position.

Enath was fighting out of emotion, clawing and reaching for
Wyc with reckless fury. Wyc thrust a knee into the Predator’s chest, of one of
the two soft spots on his body, and clubbed him in the head in the same place
Bethany’s first rock had landed.

Howling in rage and pain, Enath began swinging wildly,
groping for a hold. Wyc took advantage of the blood slicking Enath’s hands and
slid easily out of the Predator’s grip.

They rolled again, and Enath landed with the force of a tank
on top of Wyc, forcing the air from his lungs. Before Enath could benefit from
his position, another well-aimed rock cracked him above his eye, snapping his
head back.

Wyc surged up, dislodging the Predator’s weight. He twisted
and let his opponent’s own unbalanced momentum carry him down. His fist plowed
into the middle of Enath’s face, slamming the back of his head into the rocky
ground.

He pinned him down and shoved his hand under the Predator’s
chin, seeking the only vulnerable, irreparable organ in his enemy’s body. Enath
tore at Wyc’s hands and arms, but Wyc forced his fingers in deeper, piercing
through the tough skin. Ignoring the desperate clutching and the jawbone
grinding against the bones of the back of his hands, Wyc pushed further into
the soft, slick tissue of Enath’s throat.

With a final thrust, his fingers pushed past the surrounding
muscle to the breathing passage that was the key to the Predator’s death. Wyc
found the small tube, and with the move he had practiced from the first day of
his military training, wrapped his hand around it and crushed it.

Enath began to writhe in his death frenzy. Unfortunately for
Wyc, the crushing of the Sleht’s breathing passage had no effect on his ability
to speak. Even as the tube began to fuse together under his hands, Enath cursed
Wyc, Bethany and any resulting progeny in the vilest and most creative manner
he had ever heard.