Chapter 257: The Scent of Pine and Punishment

The morning light filtered through the cracks in the makeshift shelter as Felicity stretched her limbs, feeling Lucan’s heavy arm still draped across her waist. She rolled away from his warm body, slipping from beneath the blanket with practised stealth. Twenty minutes of freedom was all she needed.

Her private space offered the only true solitude in this broken world. The shower water was warm. It washed away the lingering scent of Lucan’s possessive embrace, the musk that clung to her skin after the morning of his desperate claiming.

The baby blue dress felt like armour as she slipped it over her head, the fabric flowing around her curves. She brushed her blonde hair, watching the waves cascade over her shoulders. When she stepped out, the common room fell silent.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around her from behind, pulling her against a hard chest.

"Hey!" she squeaked, her heart jumping into her throat.

Lucan’s warm breath tickled her neck. "Missed you."

She laughed, wiggling free from his hold. "I’ve been gone what, twenty minutes? You’re ridiculous."

He shrugged, that panther grin spreading across his face as he followed her into the area around the road where the others had gathered. Dimitri stood by the big rock, his dark eyes tracking her every move. Marx lounged on a log, his tail twitching with barely concealed excitement.

Felicity recognised the guilty expressions on their faces. This wasn’t her first rodeo, and she’d be lying if she didn’t admit she enjoyed the attention sometimes. The power she held over these powerful men in this broken world still amazed her.

She approached Dimitri from behind, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. The muscles beneath her fingers tensed immediately.

"Hey, Dimitri..." she said softly, "can you keep an eye on Marx? He’s being a little stupid, apparently he’s after my... stuff." 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

She didn’t need to explain further. Everyone in the camp knew exactly what she meant.

Dimitri turned, and she watched something shift behind his eyes. The obsessive gleam she’d come to recognise flashed momentarily before he regained control.

"Yes, of course I’ll sort it," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

She caught it first, sandalwood and something untamed, like crushed pine needles, before she even turned. The air between them thickened with it, and her fox ears twitched involuntarily, betraying her awareness of him.

Dimitri’s hand reached out. Stopped. His fingers hovered close enough that the heat of his skin ghosted against her bare arm, and then he pulled back, curling those fingers into a white-knuckled fist at his side. A muscle ticked along his jaw. The restraint in that single aborted gesture hit her somewhere low in her belly, a pull she absolutely should not be acknowledging right now.

But before she could process it, before she could decide whether to reach back or pretend she hadn’t noticed, the world tilted.

Lucan swooped in, scooping her up bridal-style with zero warning. Her legs kicked uselessly in the air, tail puffing out in startled indignation.

"Lucan!" She smacked his chest with an open palm, the solid wall of muscle beneath her hand doing nothing to help her irritation. "A little warning would be helpful", Felicity pouted.

"Where’s the fun in that?" His smirk was devastating up close. He adjusted his grip, one arm tightening beneath her knees, the other curving possessively around her back until her body pressed flush against his. The bastard was radiating heat like a furnace, and he knew exactly what that did to her, judging by the way his thumb traced a lazy circle against her ribs.

Her cheeks burned. Her tail curled traitorously around his forearm.

"You’re impossible," she muttered, but her fingers had already fisted in the fabric of his shirt instead of pushing him away. His chest rumbled with a low laugh she felt more than heard.

"You love impossible, little sun."

She did. That was the infuriating part.

Behind them, the sharp crack of knuckles. Felicity’s ears swivelled backward before she could stop them. She peeked over Lucan’s shoulder, and the scene that greeted her stole the remaining air from her lungs.

Dimitri stood perfectly still. The earlier heat that raw, barely-contained want she’d felt radiating off him had materialised into something far more terrifying. Predatory in the way a blade is predatory when it stops trembling and goes still.

His attention had shifted entirely to Marx.

Marx’s trademark grin collapsed like wet paper. His tail went rigid behind him, puffed to twice its normal size.

"So," Dimitri said, taking one measured step forward, You thought that was funny."

Marx’s throat bobbed. "Define funny."

"Marx," Felicity called back, half-laughing despite herself. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Marx’s gaze darted between her and the apex predator, closing the distance between them with the patience of someone who had already decided the outcome. "I was just—it was a prank. A harmless, victimless..."

"Victimless," Dimitri repeated.

Marx’s tail went very still. "Mostly victimless."

"He had them in his hand," Lucan said helpfully. "The frilly little yellow ones."

"Lucan!" Felicity’s head snapped up.

"He’s dead," Lucan said, with great satisfaction.

Felicity buried her face back in Lucan’s neck to hide her embarrassment, the rumble of his laughter vibrating through her chest. Her tail swished contentedly against his arm, and his hold tightened, pulling her closer, nose brushing against her ear in a gesture so casually intimate it made her toes curl in her boots.

"Should I save him?" she murmured against the column of his throat, breathing in cedar and clean wind.

Lucan tilted his head, pretending to consider. "Give it another thirty seconds. I want to see if he cries."

Dimitri grabbed Marx by the collar and chucked him towards the pond nearby, filled with mysterious contents.

"Dimitri," Marx called, voice pitched high and hopeful. "It was a joke, man! Come on, buddy system, right? Ha ha?"

Dimitri didn’t slow. "You thought taking from her was funny," he said, voice low and razor-sharp. "You are going to apologise. Sincerely."