Dark Slayer

The alphas were finished feeding from Ivory now and the second pair took their place as the smallest ones fed on Razvan. He was beginning to get a little dizzy. Ivory hadn't been kidding when she said they would wake up ravenous and would want to bond with the ritual blood.

Ivory ducked her head and he saw her fingers curl deeper into Gynger's thick pelt. The tip of her tongue moistened her bottom lip, drawing his immediate attention. He'd made her nervous again, and that endeared his fierce warrior to him all the more. She wasn't the least bit comfortable talking about emotions. The wolves pressing close to her and winding around their mates seemed to give her the necessary impetus to answer him.

Her chin came up and her eyes reluctantly met his briefly before her long lashes once again veiled them. «You mistake my meaning.»

That was all he was going to get out of her, but it was enough for him. The slow burn that started in his belly mixed with the blaze of love in his heart, making for a potent combination. He savored the feeling of wanting her. He had never thought he would feel that for a woman. He abhorred the crimes his body had committed and never thought to feel the powerful draw between lifemates for himself, yet every moment in her company strengthened his emotions for her and the urgent needs of his body.

He knew, deep inside, a beast had been awakened by this one woman. Only she could set that part of him free. Only she could tame that wild part of his nature. He watched her fingers move through the fur of the wolves and knew he wanted those same fingers stroking his skin. He had kissed her in their shared dream and he could taste her in his mouth, on his tongue, filling his senses with the wild rain of her, the scent and taste of a new storm washing the forest clean.

Laughing, amazed that he was alive and with her, he reached for the change, let it take him, the wonderful wrenching of muscle and bone, the stretch of tendons and sinew as his body bent and changed, as his skin itched and then fur burst through, his own luxurious pelt of black and silver, the markings distinct. His muzzle was elongated, his mouth filled with teeth and the delicious sense of freedom. His paws were large and moved over the snow and ice easily as he circled around his mate, pushing playfully at her with his nose.

The pack instantly pushed up against him, eager for the run, tails up and swishing as they nudged their noses against Ivory, wanting her to hurry.

«Okay, okay, you monsters,» she acquiesced, laughing.

Through his wolf's eyes, Razvan watched her embrace the change, going to ground, the movement graceful and fast, so that one moment she was standing tall, elegant and beautiful, and in the next she was on all fours, a sleek, gorgeous wolf with a silvery coat. There was no mistaking her eyes; they glowed a soft amber as she looked at him, her mouth smiling.

The pack immediately went to her as they had done to him, lowering their bodies in submission. She rubbed her body along theirs, accepting their homage, and then the pack went crazy, leaping around playfully, wagging tails held high, bowing toward one another and then pouncing, rolling in the snow and coming up laughing.

Razvan felt Ivory's laughter and then she lifted her head to the moon and howled for the sheer elation of it. Laughing, he joined her, adding his voice, claiming the territory, letting the pack sing their joyful music. The wild notes rang through the trees, lifted to the stars and moon and then there was silence as Ivory lifted her nose to scent the wind.

She took off running, streaking through the trees with the pack close on her heels, and Razvan discovered the sheer enjoyment of running in the pack. The wolf's body was made for running, the slight webbing between the toes allowing him to race lightly and easily over the snow. Because the wolf walked on its toes, he found his weight was evenly distributed, making the body more efficient for running. Razvan loved the new form, reveling in the way his muscles stretched and contracted as he loped along, covering large amounts of ground, easily springing over fallen logs.

All the while he ran, and the pack left evidence of their passing through the glands on their feet, marking the trail for one another and warning others away. At first Ivory set a fast pace, running flat out, letting the pack feel their bodies again, the flow of muscle, the wealth of information, the sound of the forest. He could hear the water trickling below the ice and the way the needles rustled in the snow-laden branches overhead as the wind blew just hard enough to send the limbs swaying.