A Cage for Hungry Hearts [COMPLETE]

51. Winston

The last thing I expect is for the thing wearing Domare's skin to shudder violently, then snarl like a dog. He rips Mordekai's throat out with relish, and that's how I know we've won. Domare spits the flesh aside and Mordekai falls mercilessly to the sand, landing hard on his back and staring up at the sky with wide eyes. When my gaze trails up from him, I find Domare staring back at me, his gaze alight with hunger.

"Lewis is gone," he says in his usual icy tone, "for good."

I nod, but I'm still not even sure who Lewis is.

On the ground, Mordekai wails. How he can still make any sort of sound beyond choking is beyond me, but I also don't care.

Something rips through me, an instinct that I cannot hold back any longer, a deep-seated want. With a growl that rumbles up from my chest, I launch myself at Domare. The moment I'm in range, I sink my new fangs into his neck and drink in a heady mouthful of his blood. He makes a sound I'm not sure how to catalog. It might be pain; it might be pleasure. Regardless, a moment later, he's prying my mouth free and returning the favor. I hum, low and delighted, as he drinks just a mouthful of blood from me. Then, beneath my hands, he begins to change.

His bones creak, and his skin crawls and toughens. Two gray appendages unfurl from his back, then curl around me protectively.

When he retreats from my shoulder, there isn't a moment to breathe before I'm pressing our mouths together, as our minds collide in a colorful frenzy.

I'm swimming in my new senses, sensitive in a way I have never been before, and my mind feels vast as a sea. It's grounding to have him twined through my very being. I'm hyper aware of every part of him. Somehow, his wicked teeth don't even bother me. I manage not to cut my teeth on them while we kiss.

We part with a wet sound and breathe into each other's mouths.

"I have no idea what just happened," I say, staring into his glowing eyes, our noses brushing, "but I have to tell you, Hazel is dead."

Pain rolls over his features, and he sets his forehead against mine, as if to steady himself. "I know," he says softly, "I realized it when Lewis did."

His grief lingers just out of reach like an encroaching tidal wave, but he's holding it back. I try my best to help, but this re-established tether is new and overwhelming.

"I have it," he says, "Mordekai's not dead, and I can hear the planes circling. Lewis was using my power to keep us hidden, but it's taxing. We need to go."

I pull away enough to glare down at Mordekai. There is blood on his lips, wet and enticing, somehow far more so than the gouts drenching his shirt—ah, that's hunger. Domare is made of it, and now so am I.

Those parts of Mordekai's skin that aren't stained red are moon-pale, beautiful in a way. I bet he was beautiful once, before grief chewed into his heart. Truth be told, he is beautiful now, even sprawled and dying. I want to lick those lips, to sink my tongue inside his hot mouth.

Domare growls, low and deep and so startlingly inhuman that I gasp.

I give him my best bashful smile, and he roll his eyes.

You are high into bloodthrall. It compounds your wants. Mine is hunger for flesh. Yours is apparently hunger for sex. It's so welcome, his voice inside me, so dear that I ache to press him deep into the sand and—

Domare breathes a deep, echo-y sigh like his mouth is a bell and his tongue is made of metal. He retreats from my embrace and curls over Mordekai. I study his changed form, breathing hard, overwhelmed by lust and our bond and my recent change.