Chapter 91: The Thrill of Being Chased
Mirabelle was on her back before she could even blink.
With an OOF, all the air escaped her lungs after Silas grabbed her and threw her onto the bed.
Laughing, she propped herself up on her elbows and shot the panther a challenging look.
"What makes you think it’s your turn?"
She nodded at him the way two opponents might before a duel.
Behind him, the image of the panther grinned in amusement, every knife-sharp tooth on display.
With a hiss, Silas lunged toward her.
But she wasn’t about to make this easy. Mirabelle pushed herself upright until she was crouched on the mattress.
Every muscle in her body was taut. Ready to explode into motion.
Her tail swayed behind her, openly challenging him while simultaneously helping her maintain her balance.
Silas froze. His ears flattened.
Automatically, he shifted into a slightly crouched stance.
His shoulders rolled forward.
His arms came up in front of his body.
Behind him, the shadows lashed through the air like the tentacles of a kraken from old sailors’ tales.
Laughing, Mirabelle sprang from the bed and sprinted toward the balcony doors.
Something deep inside Silas hummed with satisfaction. He loved that the lynx female ran from him.
His shadows whispered excitedly.
For a moment, he forced himself to remain still, waiting until she had thrown open the balcony doors. Then he surrendered control to instinct.
Fresh night air rushed against Mirabelle’s skin as she burst onto the terrace.
The Beast body showed her exactly how much power it contained.
In five long strides, she was perched atop the balcony railing. Baring her fangs, she turned gracefully on the balls of her feet to face the panther.
Silas wasn’t running.
He was stalking toward her.
Long, deliberate strides carried him forward.
The shadows around him had thickened until only his eyes remained clearly visible.
The yellow of his irises had become almost golden. Where her eyes held the color of warm honey, his now resembled molten yellow gold.
Mirabelle stuck out her tongue.
Her tail gave another provocative flick.
Then she jumped.
Her body told her she could do it. And she trusted it completely.
She landed lightly, absorbing the impact through her knees before catching herself with one hand against the dew-covered grass.
From above, she had already studied the park beyond her balcony and knew exactly where she wanted to go.
Her muscles flexed pleasantly beneath her skin as she bounded over carefully maintained flowerbeds.
The soles of her bare feet stirred up the scents of damp earth and tree bark mulch.
She hadn’t realized just how fast this body was.
And she loved everything about it.
Like a young deer, she raced through the park.
The same park that, during the day, was meant for leisurely walks and peaceful enjoyment of nature.
The castle grounds had transformed beneath the blue moonlight.
Silver-blue light spilled across the grass and painted the pathways in pale colors. The flowerbeds she had crossed moments ago were now little more than dark shapes swaying gently in the night breeze. Somewhere in the distance, water trickled from a fountain.
Behind her, Silas gradually picked up speed.
His shadows were already racing ahead of him. Stretching toward the lynx female.
Encouraging every shadow cast by the blue moon to stir and move.
Suddenly, Mirabelle’s instincts screamed a warning. A prickling sensation raced down her spine. In one fluid motion, she ducked sideways and changed direction.
A shadow tentacle struck empty air where she had been only a moment before.
Without slowing, she began weaving unpredictably from side to side.
If the panther Beastman wanted to catch her, he would have to work for it.
A feeling she barely recognized began growing inside her.
Euphoria.
The thrill of the chase.
The movement of her body.
Together they created something dangerously addictive.
Her lungs filled with cold night air. The faint burn in her chest told her she was pushing every muscle she possessed.
By now she had reached the orchard beyond the park and was sprinting toward the small forest that still stood within the castle’s inner walls.
With every heartbeat, the exhilaration of the hunt surged stronger through Silas.Now he was running as well. Not at the full speed available to a Stage Five cultivator.
Not even close.
Still, he found himself impressed by how fast the lynx was.
More and more shadows around her sprang to life.
At this point, Mirabelle was spending less time running toward her destination and more time avoiding Silas’s increasingly creative attempts to catch her.
Crickets sang.
Leaves whispered overhead.
Somewhere deeper in the forest, an owl called.
Mirabelle’s ears immediately swiveled toward the sound before she forced herself to focus on running.
The fresh scent of damp earth, pine needles, and night-blooming flowers lingered in the air.
The air felt cooler beneath the apple and cherry trees, brushing against the sweat dampening her skin.
Laughing, Mirabelle ducked beneath one shadow, jumped sideways to avoid another, and twisted her body into positions she hadn’t even known were possible.
Her hair streamed behind her.
Low hanging branches occasionally brushed against her sleeves as she darted between the trunks.
The front of her loose shirt clung to her torso from exertion.
Her ears were flattened against her head so they wouldn’t turn into insect traps.
Then she reached the forest trees. Darkness pooled between the trunks. The planters shadows stirred and whispered excitedly.
The forest smelled old here.
Immediately, the branches high above intercepted most of the blue moonlight like vigilant gatekeepers.
Fortunately, her predator eyes could still make out enough detail that she didn’t need to slow down. Silver moonlight glimmered on spiderwebs stretched between ferns.
And then —
A wall of shadows appeared directly in front of her.
Mirabelle dug her heels into the soft forest floor.
The scent of pine needles and moss burst upward.
Arms and tail flailing for balance, she skidded several feet before finally coming to a stop.
One moment the forest surrounded her.
The next, all she could smell was Silas.
Strong arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her firmly against his chest.
His nose immediately disappeared into her neck. His breath was warm against her skin.
The scent of rain and shadows clung to him.
And his senses were filled with the scent of vanilla and cinnamon.
Instantly, the wild rhythm of his heart began to settle.
He pressed small kisses against her throat. Each one sent a faint tingling sensation across her heated skin.
Beneath his lips, her pulse raced.
She could hear it herself.
Loud.
Fast.
Impossible to hide from a predator.
Mirabelle tried to catch her breath. Unfortunately, Silas was making that increasingly difficult.
His hands drifted over her stomach, sparking tiny shockwaves of pleasure that rippled through her body.
The soft damp fabric of her shirt shifted beneath his touch.
A purr began deep in Mirabelle’s chest.
The sound vibrated against him.
Through the bond, Silas could feel her arousal as clearly as his own. The Beast male knew she wanted this just as much as he did.
Mirabelle’s senses sharpened.
Everything felt more vivid.
More real.
The small forest hidden within the castle grounds seemed magical beneath the blue moon.
Silver-blue light filtered through the canopy above, painting shifting patterns across the moss-covered ground. Ancient trunks rose like silent sentinels around them, their branches swaying gently in the night breeze.
Somewhere overhead, leaves rustled softly.
Again an owl called in the distance.
Far beyond the trees, water trickled over stone.
The air smelled different here.
Not just earth and pine.
There was the scent of crushed fern beneath her boots, cool moss clinging to old bark, and the faint sweetness of night-blooming flowers hidden somewhere among the undergrowth.
The breeze brushed against her heated skin.
Cool.
Gentle.
Entirely insufficient.
Every sensation seemed magnified.
The soft give of the forest floor.
The warmth radiating from Silas.
The steady beat of her own heart.
And above it all hung the blue moon.
Watching.
Silent.
Knowingly.
As though the entire world had narrowed until only the two of them remained.
Silas turned together with his female, and suddenly there was a tree at her back.
It had likely witnessed generations of Luchsenstein being born and buried beneath its branches.
Caught in the powerful emotions surging through her body, Mirabelle placed a hand against the trunk. The rough texture of the bark beneath her fingertips helped anchor her to the present.
To the here and now.
Because she was afraid of being swept away by the wild longing building inside her.
It didn’t feel like her own desire.
Not entirely.
It felt older.
Ancient.
Like an instinct that had been sleeping deep within her blood, waiting patiently for the right moment to awaken.
And then his hands were beneath her shirt. They wandered over her bare stomach, circled her navel, and cupped her breasts.
A growl escaped him. He pressed closer, pinning her lower body against the tree trunk.
Her ear tips twitched with excitement when she felt his hard length against the base of her
