Excerpt of Mists Of Velvet by Sophie Renwick

Crawling away from the alcove, Rhys followed the winding body of the snake. Its white zig zag stripe made him dizzy, but he focused on it, because it was the only thing he could see clearly in the muted light.

At the stairs, Rhys began to climb. He was bleeding and winded and he needed to stop but he didn’t dare. The Mage would be finished soon. The sounds of the woman were growing more frantic, her orgasm coming quickly.

With one small burst of energy and sheer bullheadedness, Rhys got up and ran as fast as he could into the lit passageway. He wasn’t steady and he was horribly disoriented, but he followed the slithering adder.

He was bouncing off the stone walls, stumbling and uncoordinated. But he kept up the pace and actually tried to run faster when he heard a male cry of satisfaction, followed by a shrill scream from the woman. Shit. He was killing her, and then he’d be looking for Rhys and would discover him gone. They rounded a corner, and the hall weaved up and down, making Rhys want to puke. He couldn’t go any further. He stopped and leaned against the wall, his heart racing, his burning body finding some small measure of relief against the cool stone.

A roar of fury reached his ears and Rhys got his ass moving. Stumbling forward, he tried to stay focused on the snake. The pounding of feet behind him spurred him on, and just when he thought he couldn’t do it, he saw the shimmering gold veil. Lunging forward, he went through the gossamer curtain just as he felt the Mage’s presence behind him.

He was all but catapulted through the veil and came to land on the ground. The mage’s roar of outrage reverberated around him, and Rhys stood unsteadily. It was dark, and he was in some of kind of forest on a dirt path. He had no idea where he was, other than in Annwyn.

The reflecting pool should be to his left. But there wasn’t a path. Naked and barefoot, Rhys began to push through the dense forest. Daegan had forced him to memorize how to get to the sacred waters, and Rhys was moving in the direction of his instinct.

The damn reflecting pool had better be close, he thought, because if he had to go much further, he’d pass out, and Cailleach would have free rein to fry his ass.

Faltering over an exposed tree root, Rhys cursed and fell to his knees. With his hands in the dirt, he anchored himself, trying to get a grip on the dizziness that slammed into him.

Something cool brushed his knuckles, and he gazed down into the beady eyes of the adder. This was the third time he’d sighted the snake. There was no denying now that this was an animal guide. But why an adder?

A twig snapped, and he jumped up, crouching to avoid the low hanging branches. The adder snaked in and out of the long grass, rising and falling over grassy mounds and trees roots until the trees parted and Rhys was welcomed by the glow of the biggest full moon he had ever seen. It was made all the more brilliant by the rippling water beneath it.

The Reflecting Pool.

On its bank, Rhys fell to his knees, collapsing in exhaustion and pain. His head was still cloudy and heavy. Between his cheek and gum, he felt the round pod that had been shoved into his mouth. He was about to spit it out when he heard a sound behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the most beautiful wolf peering out from between the trees. The animal was pure white, majestic and elegant. It didn’t move, but its pale blue eyes watched him warily.

His vision began to swirl and he reached out, whether to try to fend off the impending attack or to call to the animal, Rhys could not have said. But when he pitched forward toward the ground, he saw the animal stiffen. It sniffed the air, and Rhys knew it smelled his blood.

His last thought was that he needn’t have worried about Cailleach because the wolves were obviously going to get him first. * * *

Bronwnn had seen this man before. Despite being in wolf form, she saw with the eyes of a woman. This was the man from her dreams. Everything about him felt familiar, from the outline of his prone body to the breadth of his naked shoulders. Even his scent, which was much more potent to her in her shifter form, caused a familiar heating in her body.

Inhaling, she brought his essence deep into her nose and felt the primal instinct of an animal finding her mate.

Quietly, she came out from beneath the leafy canopy of trees. The glowing moon shone on the rippling water, but she had no need of moonlight. For she was a wolf now, and wolves saw through the darkest woods, and into the darkest hearts.

Circling him, she studied the hurried, rasping movement of his chest. He was breathing too fast. Beneath him, pools of darkness began to seep out, covering the leaves in a glistening crimson. He was bleeding.

In this form, she could do nothing but lie down beside him and keep him warm. But that would not save him. She had to help him, but to change out in the open, where anyone might see, was too dangerous. She was the only goddess shifter. No one knew of her gift, and she had no intention of sharing it, either.

No, she could not expose herself in that way. Yet everything inside her screamed for her to act. To do something. He was her mate. The animal and the woman agreed on this fact.

With her muzzle, she rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the black strands of his soft hair tickling her nose. He smelled good. Right. She tasted him then. With a swipe of her tongue, she licked his skin. He smelled like a wraith, but there was something else there; another essence, something harsher, like ceremonial incense, as well as a pungent and earthy odor—the same odor that had accompanied him in her vision.

The man groaned, tried to lift himself up on his elbows and immediately fell back to the ground. Coughing, he spit something out from between his lips. Which landed atop Bronwnn’s front paw. Thorn apple.

“Fuck,” he growled, trying once more to move. He succeeded in rolling to his back. His face, she noticed, was breathtakingly handsome, despite the expression of pain he wore. His hair was dark, his lashes just as black. His jaw was firm, covered in black stubble. The man before her was naked, and Brownn looked her fill, admiring his beautiful, powerful body. From his thick arms, to the black hair on his belly, down to the soft skin of his phallus, he was hard and sculpted, just as a warrior should be.

Bronwnn was mesmerized by his body, by the sheer power and strength it contained. She wanted to touch it, to run her fingers along the firm flesh and hard muscle. Wanted that hard body covering hers. The need inside her grew, until she heard him moan. Worried, she stepped closer, and glancing up from the part of his anatomy that had captivated her most, she saw how his chest had been mutilated, and how it now bled, the red trails of blood running over his chest and onto his side.

This man--her mate--had been a victim of the Dark Mage. Occult symbols were etched into his skin, the same symbols that had been present in her vision. It was true, then, what she had seen! It had just happened. Which meant that the dark magician was close, and they were both in danger.

Heedless of anyone seeing her, Bronwnn changed into her human form and quickly bent to her knees, intending to help the stranger up. They must flee this place before either the Dark Mage or Cailleach’s oidhche found them.