The Unforgiven by Joy Nash

panic. Dear God, she had to get away! She renewed her struggle with a vengeance. She struck out, punching and kicking whatever part of his body she could reach. One solid arm encircled her midsection, trapping her arms while pressing her more firmly into his hard-on. His hand covered her mouth just as her chest heaved, drawing enough air to scream.
    The restraint infuriated her. It was also maddeningly erotic. The more she struggled to free herself, the harder he got and the more her body softened to his restraint. The more she felt herself open to him. Damn the man! It was as if he’d cast some kind of spell over her.
    She managed to free one hand to shove against his chest. Her butt wiggled. His erection jerked and throbbed under the pressure. His jaw went rigid; his nostrils flared. Air hissed through his teeth. A low growl rumbled in his throat. Their eyes locked.
    Raw carnal knowledge arced between them. Maddie knew then—
knew
, without a doubt—that this powerful, aroused male was one heartbeat away from ripping off her shorts and plunging himself into her body. Worse, she was half a heartbeat from begging him to do it.
    What the hell was happening?
    “No,” she gasped. “No. We can’t do this. Not here. Not ever.” The thought of surrendering to this man terrified her on some deep, primitive level. “Let me go.”
    “Maddie.” His voice was hoarse. “You don’t understand—”
    “I don’t care. I can’t do this. I won’t. Let me go.
Please.
”
    A brief hesitation, then his arms fell away.
    She scrambled to her feet. Or at least, she tried to. The disorientation left over from the waking dream hadn’t completely disappeared. She stumbled.
    Cade, already on his feet, caught her. “Careful,
caraid
.”
    She jerked away, steadying herself on the pit’s shoring instead. Her canteen rested on a nearby ledge. She snatched it up as if it were a lifeline. She drank with shaking hands as Cade stood silent behind her.
    Not turning, she forced herself to speak as if nothing disturbing had happened.
    “Thanks for catching me. When I . . . I fainted. I don’t know what happened. Heatstroke, maybe.”
    “No. Your skin is cold,” he said.
    And her hands felt like ice. “Dehydration, then. I haven’t been drinking enough water.”
    “I doubt that had anything to do with it.” His tone was grim. “It’s this place. It’s cursed.”
    She could almost believe it was true.
    “Come on, then,” he said. “You need to get out of this pit.”
    “That’s . . . that’s probably a good idea.”
    She was thankful he didn’t try to touch her as she climbed the ladder, though he hovered close behind. Once she stepped away from the edge of the pit she felt much better. Until she made the mistake of looking down. The well was awash with red light.
    Something’s there. Something real.
She wanted so badly to believe it, even though she knew there was nothing in the well but sand and stone. The source of the glow was not in the ground but in her brain. In the cancer growing behind her left eye.
    Without a glance at Cade, she turned and fled.
    Bloody hell. Cade had no experience with transition—other than his own, of course.
    He’d begun his transformation after a knife fight had left him all but dead. Like Maddie, he’d been unaware. He’d thought himself fully human. He’d had no idea what was happening to him, what his body was preparing for. And then the first wave of his crisis broke.
    He grimaced and blanked the memory from his mind. Even now, more than a year later, he avoided thoughts of that night. The emotions tangled up with it—a mélange of desperation, pain, and fear—were just too powerful. There had been pleasure, too, of course. Incredible, searing bliss. There had been the heat of Cybele’s body. Her lush breasts, her hands, her mouth. The wet sound of his cock working inside her.
    He’d fought his bonds like a madman. He’d been desperate to touch Cybele on his own terms, to bend her