My Wild Beast
Chapter 61: Fallen Prey (3)

Chapter 61: Fallen Prey (3)

The urge to run was pumping through Nova’s veins. But Vulcan’s looming shadow and the sharp drop into rocks and an angry ocean halted anymore thoughts of escape. The roaring wind made her wonder if a storm was rolling in or if it was because they were on the side of a cliff.

As her eyes set back on the Vulcan, her stomach dipped at the intensity of his gaze. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. First was his explanation about what this Electa was. Something that did make sense now why others had called her it in passing. It was obvious she was not of this island.

Honestly, if being an Electa meant she’d been chosen by the island to come here, then it definitely got the wrong idea about her. She was a city girl through and through, with zero survival skills which was why she relied so heavily on the others—something she hoped to change.

Then there was this royal feathery ass claiming she was his! If she still had her heels she would have tossed one at his stupidly pretty face!

Nova adamantly shook her head. "No, no, no. I’m not yours. You seem like a somewhat decent man, if we take away the stalking and kidnapping from your growing list of red flags, I guess? But I’m not yours. I’m not your chosen mate, whatever that means-"

"It means I choose you to be mine. To stand by my side. To be soul-bonded." His hand reached out and brushed some of her hair back, sharp eyes taking in every inch of her. Nova refrained from flinching or looking away. She shivered under that stare and the feel of his hand brushing against her skin.

"I see," Nova breathed, her heart thumping far too loudly. So much for sounding more confident than she felt. It didn’t stop her from blurting what she truly thought though. "And the girl in question has no choice in the matter, huh?"

Vulcan’s eyes narrowed as he stared down at her, his eyes glimmering back, his pupils dilating and retracting like he was trying to focus on his new prey. "Many have killed to even be considered for your position."

Nova’s brows shot up at his arrogance and the lack of emotion dripping from his voice. Women have actually killed to be his mate, or Nokari? Sure he was hot but there was something unsettling about him. Something too aloof and cold.

Then again, maybe the other harpy eagles were the same and this was totally normal? Nova was still adjusting to this world and was beginning to get a sense of how cut throat it really is. Sure she’d been chased through the jungle and already met a few of the tribes but she didn’t know the ins and outs of it all.

Like tonight, she’d managed to go through a rite of passage. Or her version of it considering she couldn’t do the second part as it was solely focused on the hunter or huntress to shift into their animal form.

"That seems wasteful," Nova muttered, though she didn’t want it to sound just as heartless as him. She didn’t know what else to say to something like that.

Vulcan shrugged. "It got rid of any weaklings that deemed themselves even remotely appropriate to stand by my side. Ixana probably put them up to it." The last sentence was muttered bitterly.

"I’m sorry but why not have one of your many fans as your... mate?" Nova asked, feeling a strange sensation flush over her at the mention of a mate. She rubbed over her collarbone slightly, trying to ease.

"Because I want you. You’re an Electa that can boost my flock’s strength. Ixana would have you killed but there is no more potential from your death," he spoke so coldly and so calculatively that it felt like ice was getting lodged into the pit of her stomach the more he spoke. "In any case, if our offspring have no powers or shifting qualities then-"

"Woah woah! Hold on there buddy!"

"I will have to bed another to continue my line," Vulcan continued like Nova hadn’t interrupted or found any importance in her little outburst.

"Offspring?! I’ve barely learned your first name and you’re already speaking of children?!" Nova’s hands went to her stomach almost protectively. "That’s not even the point! I don’t want to be yours! I’m Yo-"

"Don’t," Vulcan snarled, resting his hand by her head now, ultimately trapping her as he glared back at her. "That fleabag has been nothing but a nuisance in my plans."

Nova’s eyes narrowed on him as anger poured into her heart at bird brains insulting her man right in her face.

Woah. Her man? When did those thoughts slip into her mind? She could barely register what they were yet. Was this going to be a relationship?

Nova internally shook her head at her spiralling thoughts. This was not the time. She was facing this predator right now and she was nothing more than caged prey that apparently might be bred for potential powerful heirs. Eww.

She sighed. Such a shame for such a handsome face. Not that she had any interest in him besides admiring his features before he spoke to her.

Vulcan watched her with an eagle’s stillness, the only movement being the wind teasing the ends of his feathers and the storm brewing behind his eyes. Nova, who had spent the last ten minutes desperately grasping at sarcasm like a life raft, suddenly felt the weight of her situation pressing in—quite literally—when he flattened his arm beside her head, caging her in against the rock more.

"I’m not going anywhere with you," she said, swallowing against the lump forming in her throat.

"You already are." He didn’t smirk this time. No teasing. Just truth, cold and solid as the stone behind her.

Before she could argue, Vulcan moved. One powerful sweep of his wings kicked up a gust that nearly knocked her off balance. He wrapped an arm around her waist again, and they were airborne, the ledge vanishing beneath them in an instant. Nova yelped and clutched his shoulders—again—because apparently, that was her life now. Flying unwillingly in the arms of a possessive harpy eagle with a superiority complex and cheekbones sharp enough to slice open her dignity.

"You could at least warn me!" she shouted over the wind, eyes squinting against the rush of air.

"I did. I told you to come with me," Vulcan replied, deadpan.

She growled. "That wasn’t a warning. That was a threat wrapped in broody melodrama!"

He ignored her.

Typical.

They flew for what felt like forever. The landscape shifted beneath them, transforming from the steep, rugged cliffs to the thick jungle, passing the river. In the distance, and this high up, Nova could see Moon Lake. The trees parted way for nature’s mirror, the still water reflecting the night sky.

Then Vulcan dipped and the canopy rushed up to meet them. The lake gone once more. Eagleman slowed his arrival towards the Samuama trees with nests formed into them. The elegant structures of woven wood, silver-feathered lining and symbols carved into the branches surrounding them.

The beat of his wings became quieter as they slowed, passing a few of the nests, revealing a few of the flock remaining in their eagle form.

So this was the Silver Feather Flock.

A dozen pairs of sharp, golden eyes tracked their descent. Other harpy eagles hovered nearby or perched on ledges, their wings folding in with perfect precision. Every single one of them radiated silent power—and suspicion.

It was nightfall, but she supposed with the absence of Ixana’s son, many of what seemed to be their warriors, were still awake, guarding. Or did they not follow the usual habits of birds settling into their nests at nightfall?

As Vulcan landed with her, Nova was acutely aware of how completely out of place she looked. Among feathers, talons, and honed bodies designed for flight and battle, Nova must have seemed a tiny ant.

Vulcan guided her along the thick branch of a tree. It overlooked the river parting into two far below. Nova subtly stepped a little closer to Vulcan, aware of the great drop. Unlike Yoa’s treehouse there were no nets to catch anyone if they fell. There were no bridges or ladders to aid them in getting into their nests.

Why would they? They had wings.

The nest Vulcan guided her to was larger and more ornate than the others, lined with layers of silver and obsidian feathers. Several glowing stones were embedded in the wooden walls, giving the place a soft, silvery light. It was surprisingly warm, shielded from the harsher winds.

"Is this your nest?" she asked, trying not to sound too judgmental. "It’s very... open-air. Drafty. Must be nice against the heat."

Vulcan nodded once and gestured for her to sit on a smooth, feather-padded platform, a blanket covering it.

"Oh, how fancy," she muttered, perching awkwardly like a cat in a tub.

Vulcan sat across from her, wings folding neatly behind him. "You’ll be safe here. No one in the flock will challenge my claim while you remain under my protection."

"Comforting," she deadpanned. "Nothing says ’romance’ like being protected from your future in-laws."

His brow twitched. "They are not your in-laws. Yet."

Nova groaned and pressed her hands to her face. "This cannot be happening." She hoped if she chewed his head off with non-stop chatter Vulcan would deem the island was in fact wrong and give her back to Yoa, wiping his hands clean of her. "I don’t even know your middle name, let alone your love language. Do you give gifts? Acts of service? Threatening rival suitors?"

He blinked. "I’ve killed two."

Her hands dropped slowly. "...Kidding, right?"

His head tilted.

"Who?!" No she wouldn’t know anyway. How did he kill two people when she didn’t even know them?! "No? Okay. Mental note: Vulcan does not joke."

He watched her as though she were the peculiar one. "You speak much. Yoa is... not like that."

Nova blinked, caught off guard. "Yeah, well, he doesn’t have to say much. One look from him says plenty. You? You monologue like a villain in a dramatic stage play. You clearly hate him, and I’m still trying to understand what any of this is! I didn’t sign up for being someone’s ’Electa’." She air quoted. "I didn’t come here to play supernatural matchmaking or join a royal eagle breeding program!"

Vulcan stood as well. "You were chosen. The island does not make mistakes."

Nova jabbed a finger toward him. "Then the island has a very twisted sense of humour!"

He took a step closer. "You are stronger than you think."

"And you are more high-maintenance than a French bulldog," she muttered, backing off again.

There was a flash of something in his expression—frustration, maybe. Or understanding. Hard to tell with a face so naturally sculpted for battle readiness.

"Do you not feel it?" he asked after a long silence. "Are there not questionable circumstances that wouldn’t be ordinary where you are from? Do you not feel the island holding its breath for you?"

Nova hesitated. A whole lot had happened. But there were still many questions unanswered.

How could she speak their language?

How could she understand the animals others could not?

"Close your eyes."

Nova frowned, not wishing to follow his orders, especially considering the circumstances. However, she did exactly as he said. Now that she focused more on her inner self. She did feel something. A tingle under her skin.

But she didn’t want to voice this. Not to him. The person she craved to see... Well she didn’t know where he was and if he was ok.

Instead, she folded her arms and arched her brow at him. "All I feel is confused and mildly kidnapped."

Vulcan stepped back, just slightly. "You may stay here tonight. No harm will come to you."

"Oh, now you’re giving me permission to sleep safely? What a gentleman."

He turned toward the edge of the nest. "Rest, Electa. I will not force you. But I will wait."

Nova stared after him, heart still pounding. She glanced around the nest, its elegant construction a far cry from the chaos of her arrival on the island. And somehow, more unsettling.

She sighed, sitting back down.

"Yo," she whispered to no one. "If you’re out there... hurry up. I think I’m about to get recruited into a feathery cult."

She hugged her knees to her chest, grateful she could be left alone and maybe try and figure a way out of this mess.

And far above, Vulcan stood silently at the ledge of the nest, wings half-spread, watching the jungle with a warrior’s stillness.

Waiting. For her to accept the fate he is handing her.

Or challenge it.