Naya belonged to him as much as he belonged to her.
Pain radiated in his skull as myriad voices closed in around him. Ronan doubled over, clutched at his head as he squeezed his eyes shut. Images rained down on him: Mikhail, searching the city for the female who’d awakened his power and saved their doomed race. Claire bloodied and unconscious, hanging lifeless in his friend’s arms. Ronan’s mind grew hazy, as though a blanket of fog had settled over him, and he gave a sharp shake of his head to dislodge the hold of the Collective from his mind.
In quick succession a barrage of memories swamped him. Mikhail, Claire, Jenner … Another bank of fog settled and cleared. Siobhan’s dark raven hair and bright emerald eyes loomed in his mind’s eye. She lay beneath him, writhing in ecstasy as he pounded into her. The sting of her bite was a welcome pleasure as her fangs punctured his skin. And a troth, freely given, that he was powerless to escape.
Ronan gasped as though breaching the surface of deep water, desperate for air. The Collective threatened to pull him under once again, but he fought its pull, forcing himself to remain in the present. A derisive snort filled the silent space as he gave his head one last violent shake. He was worried about someone giving Naya to another male? What about the blood troth he’d given to another female?
Gods fucking damn it. What a clusterfuck.
He focused his attention back on the conversation going on out in the living room. He knew little of the male with whom Naya was speaking, but her anxiety permeated the air with a sharp citrus tang that spiked Ronan’s protective instinct. She’d promised to run her dagger through his chest if he stepped even a toe out of line, but he refused to cower in her bedroom while the scent of her distress burned his nostrils.
Fuck it.
He strode through the door without a thought to the silver cuffs still hanging from his wrists with links of broken chain. Naya turned to face him, the murder in her gaze doing nothing to cool Ronan’s lusts. It seemed the angrier and more violent she got, the more he wanted her. Sick.
“Naya…?”
The male standing beside her—Santi—took a defensive stance, legs braced as though in anticipation of attack. His dark eyes narrowed as he assessed Ronan, and Santi’s jaw squared as he clenched his teeth.
“I told you to stay put!” Naya seethed. The sharp, spicy scent of her annoyance banished that of her earlier anxiety. “Are all vampires this obstinate or is it just you?”
Santi’s eyes widened. “Vampire?” He sprang to action, reaching out to guide Naya behind him.
Wrong move, asshole. Ronan’s secondary fangs ripped through his gums. He wanted nothing more than to sink them into the other male’s flesh. A predatory growl escaped from between Ronan’s teeth and he let out a feral hiss. Santi’s pupils elongated as he answered with a similar, decidedly feline snarl.
A shifter. Awesome.
“Everybody just calm down.”
Santi made no move to release his hold on Naya. His fingers bit into her arm, and though she made no outward show of discomfort, it sparked Ronan’s bloodlust and the need to commit violence burned through him. “If you don’t want to die today, shifter, I’d suggest letting her go.”
“Santi.” Naya’s tone was panicked and it served to further agitate Ronan. “You can’t tell Paul he’s here. You can’t tell anyone. Promise me.”
The shifter’s eyes narrowed, the once deep brown irises now blazing gold. His pupils were narrow black slashes and his incisors had elongated in his jaw. “A vampire, Naya? They should be extinct. What is he doing here? Why? The elders need to know.”
The tang of Naya’s fear scorched Ronan’s nostrils, and the icy cold that had penetrated his veins not an hour ago threatened to surface once again. Naya’s brows gathered sharply above her eyes as though she sensed it as well.
“Ronan, put a lid on it,” she warned. “I’m fine. You’re fine. We’re all fine.” She didn’t look fine. Her scent sure as hell didn’t smell fine. And you could bet that male’s hands on her weren’t doing a gods-damned thing to make Ronan feel fine. “Santi, let me go.”
The male released her arm in an instant and some of the ice retreated from Ronan’s veins. He resisted the urge to reach out and pull her to him, knowing it would do nothing more than spark her ire.
“Naya, what in the hell is going on here?” The gold melted from Santi’s eyes, and with it more of the cold drained from Ronan’s gut. “With everything on our plate right now, don’t you think his being here is a little coincidental?”