Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 169943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 850(@200wpm)___ 680(@250wpm)___ 566(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 850(@200wpm)___ 680(@250wpm)___ 566(@300wpm)
“Hawk?” he demands again. “Where are you going?”
Where am I going? I consider for a moment, but one word beats inside my head over and over again. Mine. Mine. Mine.
Mine.
I push past the humans. “Find Aspeth…Drop Thirteen.”
“It’s not safe. Wait until we can send a rescue team….” He continues on, chattering, but I barely hear him. “…file an emergency order…no Taurians…patience…”
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
“Not waiting,” I grit out. “I’ll find her.” They say a Taurian with the god’s hand upon him can pick up the smell of his female from a thousand yents. We’ll see if that’s true. Even now I’m sniffing the air, trying to find her scent.
“…you…sent a missive to Lord Honori…in danger…coup…his daughter is here…” Rooster continues rambling, walking at my side even as I stride toward the drop zone. “Wait up,” he calls. “Hawk—”
I turn. Grab him by his collar. Lift him into the air. Red hazes my vision. Red is everywhere. My pulse is in my ears.
Mine.
Mine.
“Are you trying to stop me from finding my wife?”
His eyes widen and his fear smells acrid on the air. First time I’ve ever smelled fear. Huh. “N-no. Of course not.”
I pull him closer to me, his nose practically pressed to mine. “You see…Conquest Moon…in the sky?”
He blinks. Nods.
“You know what that means?” When he nods again, I set him down as carefully as I can, because I still need a job. “I’m finding my wife.”
Mine.
Mine.
“Your wife is in trouble with the guild,” Rooster continues, oblivious to the danger he’s in. “If Magpie’s side of things is correct, she was stealing.”
Mine.
Mine.
“That can’t go unpunished—”
I’m barely aware that I’m lunging at him. He dodges, fast for a squat little turd like him, and I snarl in frustration.
Rooster puts his hands up. “You’re not yourself right now, Hawk. We can put you with a nice sex worker, get you taken care of—”
“Wife,” I growl. “Finding my wife.”
And I turn toward the drop center once more. I don’t have a pass. I don’t have flags to demarcate where I’m going. No one stops me, though. They get out of my mucking way and avoid me. Good.
I’m barely aware of finding the drop. Of pushing past guards and climbing into the basket to be lowered. Of snarling at the drop attendant until he lowers the basket with just me instead of a Five.
The red haze in my vision grows thicker. My cock is painful in how tight it is, how much the knot around the base of my shaft aches. I’m barely aware of digging into the rubble that covers the tunnels into Drop Thirteen.
Barely aware of flinging aside a boulder as if it weighs nothing.
Mine.
Mine.
She’s in there, and she’s mine.
I don’t know how long I dig. The red haze covers everything. I should take my cock out, jerk off again, try to cool the heat that seems to have lodged itself directly into my groin…but Aspeth is here. Somewhere. I can scent the faint tang of her on the air.
I want my wife on my knot. Nothing else will satisfy.
I’m only vaguely aware that there’s a team behind me, keeping its distance. I sometimes hear them mutter, but it doesn’t stop me in my mission. They’re staying away from me, as they should. A moonstruck Taurian is a dangerous creature, and if I don’t find my wife by the time the Conquest Moon crosses the smaller moon, I’m going to turn and fuck one of them. I won’t be able to wait any longer. I’ll lose control of myself.
I’m barely in control now.
I break through the rocks and then I rush forward down the empty tunnel. Then another. And another. The scent of Aspeth is old here, but lingering, and a primeval sound escapes me.
“Wait,” someone calls from far behind.
I ignore him. My mate is close. My mate is here.
Mine.
Mine.
Dimly, I’m aware of charging through a broken wall into a ratling nest. The others call out a warning but I grab the ratlings as they try to swarm me, snapping necks and tossing them aside as if they’re nothing.
Nothing is going to keep me from my mate.
Nothing at all.
I shove aside a larger ratling, and then the scent of Aspeth hits me, hard and fast. This one has a piece of fabric from her skirt, and when I lift it to smell it, there’s a strand of orange cat hair stuck to the fabric.
I bellow my fury even as the hand of the god claims me.
FORTY-THREE
ASPETH
“Did you hear that?”
I rouse from sleep, my body aching something fierce. I’m hungry, too, but we’re trying to save our rations because we don’t know how long we’ll be here. The red light from the first ring continues to glow atop my staff, and the second is secured around my neck via a lace broken off from one of my boots.