Huntress's Pack by Eva Brandt
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I was mid-thrust, my cock buried in her beautiful mouth. I was so close to coming again I could feel it roaring through my spine. But then, I looked into Imogen's blank eyes and saw jet black bleed into her irises. Sex became the least important thing on my agenda. My instincts of self-preservation screamed at me, “”Move away!””, and I did.
I didn't want to. I never wanted to leave her, to shy away from her, no matter what the demon forced her to do. But my body moved without me giving it permission. It was a good thing too, because if I hadn't obeyed my instincts, she would have probably bitten my cock off.
Byron was just as fast as I was. He pulled out of her, rolled off the bed, and took cover, just in time to avoid a blast of demonic power.
Ulysses wasn't so lucky. He was underneath her and he would have had to shove her off to escape. Normally, that wouldn't have been a huge problem, since she was as light as a feather to any werewolf and hadn't actually tried to fight us. But she was also our mate. Moving away was one thing, pushing her aside while doing so quite another.
It was a subtle difference, but one that made Ulysses hesitate. And so, when she screamed, he was still there, their bodies still entwined. “”No!”” she shouted, and her garbled cry seemed multiplied, as if spoken through several different voices. “”I won't let you!””
Shadow and flame surged over the room and settled over us like the fumes from a volcanic eruption. I clutched my heart, finding it increasingly hard to breathe.
Ulysses hissed, but his half-demon nature protected him. He pushed her down and covered her body with his. “”Oh, no, you don't. You're not taking her. She's ours.””
“”Idiot… Idiot wolf. You don't know anything. You don't understand…””
Imogen screamed again, flailing underneath Ulysses. She reached for her own face, but Ulysses grabbed her hands before she could do any damage to herself. Deep gauges appeared over her cheeks and chest anyway, as if some sort of malevolent entity was clawing into her.
It was Daimon Rossi. He was haunting her again, torturing her from the distance. She had said that he'd come to her in her sleep and it hadn't happened again since the battle when she'd rejected him. Was this his way of getting revenge? I hadn't thought he'd physically harm her. He'd seemed to want to protect her before, to a certain point, at least.
I should have known better than to believe anything good about Daimon. He wasn't Ulysses and any feelings he might have had for Imogen were selfish. It stood to reason that her rejection would push him over the edge.
“”Stay away!”” Imogen shouted. “”It… No! Don't hurt them! They didn't do anything wrong.””
“”They took what wasn't theirs,”” she replied in a different voice, “”just like you did.””
“”No! You're wrong. You're wrong!””
She sounded like she was arguing with herself, except that second voice wasn't Imogen. It was Daimon.
I wouldn't allow this. I refused to let that blasted demon claim any part of her. He'd sneaked into her mind once, when we'd been away. But now we were here, with her. We could protect her.