Wings flutter.

The water laps on the fringe of the boat.

And there…a low, threatening hiss.

That’s not regular.

I spin round simply as one thing launches itself out of the water, claws bared, feline jaws open. The zimya has to know I’m after it, neon feathers splayed extensive round its head.

I lay again within the boat and shoot with the crossbow because the zimya flies over me, then I flip to look at it slice again into the water. I get right into a crouch on the boat and stability, and my abdomen twists once I really feel a big type scrape in opposition to the underside of the boat.

A feathered tail slaps out of the water and curls round my boat, catching me within the shoulder. The metallic is bending and collapsing underneath the strain a second later, and I’m pressured to dive and swim for it. I hold the crossbow linked to my wrist, and I flip round and crouch once more once I get to land, aiming straight on the boat.

I hearth one other bolt.

The zimya screams.

It clenches tighter and I watch because the boat goes underneath, cursing to myself. If Nyrik decides he doesn’t need to take me with him, it’s going to be a protracted, moist stroll again to the cabin. I get one other shot on the creature’s tail, however I’m fairly certain that simply pisses it off.

…and that was my final bolt earlier than it must be recharged.

Sixty seconds.

Shit.

The water crests in a V-shape that I assume must be the zimya, and I scramble again. “Come on,” I growl on the crossbow—however it’s nonetheless charging.

“Fuck,” I mutter.

The zimya bursts from the water in a twig of crystalline droplets, lit by the moon. Its eyes glow yellow and its feathers shake, creating a wierd sound like rain falling. Brief, clawed legs slash at me, chopping me throughout the cheek simply as I flip…and plunge my knife into the open wound I left with certainly one of my bolts.

I’m soaked in blue-black blood because the zimya falls behind me, catching me one final time with its injured tail. It lets out a choked roar, however it’s completed for, and we each realize it. Nonetheless, I kneel over it and seize the tufted feathers on its head, then I finish the entire thing with one final slash of my searching knife.

The creature goes limp.

And I hear that bassy, rumbling resonance Nyrik makes along with his chest.

I shudder and ignore the presence behind me regardless of how turned on I’m, understanding it’s incorrect that I’m getting aroused whereas crouched over a corpse. I hear his footsteps within the marshy grass, the sweep of his tail within the reeds, as I get to work chopping off the zimya’s head.

I’m taking this goddamn trophy.

Nyrik’s clawed fingers fall to my shoulders as I minimize by means of flesh, feathers, sinew and muscle. He will get nearer, his tongue darting out over my ear, and I curve my neck to provide him higher entry. Then I really feel his enamel—sharp, totally inhuman.

The pinnacle comes free.

I take it in my fingers and maintain it up like a talisman.

“You have been magnificent,” he drones into my ear, his voice so deep that it rattles in my throat. “I can barely resist you, coated within the blood of our prey.”

I shut my eyes and attain again for Nyrik’s head, operating my fingers over the frill in the back of his cranium. He’s so lovely, the frill high quality like strands of hair, and he groans with that deep rumble that makes me so moist…

“Then don’t,” I inform him. “Don’t resist.”

He stills, one clawed hand biting into my waist.

“To take you want this, within the moonlight, simply after a kill…I can’t allow you to go,” he says. “For those who give your self to me, we’re sure.”

“I’m not your pet,” I snap.

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