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Chapter Sixty One
Jared sat on a hilltop overlooking a town outside of Dublin. There were few lights, indicating that this was not a metropolis. It was a peaceful scene, a stark contrast to the turmoil going on inside of him. When he'd left his house he'd barely had the presence of mind to throw on clothes.
How could he have bonded with her? What sort of cruel joke was this, that after centuries of being alone, of wishing to be so, he would end up bonding with a fallen female?
Stop lying to yourself, you know she isn’t fallen. He drew in a breath of irritation.
He pictured her in his mind, her small feminine body, delicate elven features, brilliant blue eyes ringed with gold…the eyes of a healer. He shook his head hard. He didn't know how it was possible that she had gone undiscovered. Of course that was how she had survived, wasn't it?
And yet why stay hidden for centuries and show up in London now? And expose herself so fucking recklessly! That last thought made him grind his teeth together in anger. In part for what she had done to him, but also for the danger she'd placed herself in.
What kind of fools were those males to allow it? Or plan it, or whatever the hell had happened to bring her into the bar that night. If he learned they had sent her to perform the theft he would curse the fact that he didn’t leave them to their fates on the rooftop.
And she had been a virgin. That fact kept blowing his mind. Not only had she been well hidden, she'd been untouched. And he'd taken it from her so roughly. If it weren't for the fact that he could smell her desire...No, that was a lie. He would have taken her even if she hadn't wanted him, he’d been too far gone with the effects of the demons in combination with his anger and lust.
Those eyes, he thought again. Obviously she’d been wearing contact lenses when they met, but he'd never seen a female with her particular combination. Warrior females had black hair and violet eyes and healers were fair haired with her shade of blue. She must have dyed it as part of the disguise. But the idea that not only was she an unturned female but a healer as well...the last known of her kind had died centuries ago. Yet when she'd grabbed onto his shoulders he had felt the darkness recede. And she'd begged to be allowed to go back to her friends. To heal them?
He sunk his head in his hands. He didn't need this. He didn’t fucking Want This! Even now he could feel her presence. Less than in London, but he could still feel it. And he was being drawn there, pulled as if by an enormous invisible magnet. Thoughts were tumbling around in the back of his mind, particularly the fact that she was in a house full of males. Rage boiled up in him as he imagined them touching her, he would tear the arms off of any who fucking DARED! She was HIS.
But rebellion was in the forefront of his thoughts. I don't give a damn who touches her, I will NEVER accept this. Let them touch her and break the bond, he would deal with the pain, it would be far better than this.
Then another thought slammed into him. Those males kept either pushing her into, or at least allowing her near danger. Panic rushed through him, the need to go and make sure she was safe.
Shit. Shit. SHIT.
Long buried feelings were shoving their way to the surface. His indifference was no longer providing a cloak.
He forced himself to stay put. But eventually he knew he would weaken and the magnet would get the better of him, the instincts were just too strong.
Generously created for me by @son-of-satire