Frightened tears spring to my eyes, and he licks the salty trail streaking my cheek.

Kallum’s primal growl hurls me over the edge—even as I cannot take my eyes off the beast of a man advancing toward us. He moves like a disjointed demon. The closer he gets, the better I can discern his severe features. The black thread stitched into his eyelids. The massive antlers mounted to his shaved head.

The rapid orgasm spirals through me so torturously strong, my body trembles uncontrollably as it burns through my muscles. A turbulent storm of pleasure and pain swallows me when Kallum loosens his grip on my throat. I gasp in a desperate breath that shatters me from the inside.

Kallum pumps vigorously inside me to claim the last dregs of my orgasm. His cock pulsates against my swollen channel, and his hot cum spills down my thighs.

Above logic and reason, pain and suffering, all sensation exists in a cosmic vacuum of euphoria….before I’m clawed down into the darkness.

My system overwhelmed, I sag against the tree, my bound wrists on fire. I feel the throb of Kallum still inside me as his climax tapers. His warm breath drifting over my skin, he rests his forehead to mine, his muscles strained and skin heated as our pulses sync.

As Kallum draws back, his devastatingly beautiful eyes seek mine through the chaos. My heart aches from the intensity, from the way his face fills with awe as he gazes at me.

He licks his lips and captures my mouth in a brutally demanding kiss that constricts my heart. He tastes me in slow, sensual caresses before he breaks away.

A devious smile crooks his mouth as he hikes his jeans up and takes a step back. “I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist you.”

A cold splash of fear hits me.

Adrenaline blasts my veins, the sounds of the field muffled beneath the roar in my ears. The stagnant marsh air chills my slick skin.

My gaze darts to the horned man. Bare-chested, his gleaming muscles bulge in the waning firelight. His booted feet clomp the earth near the fire ring. The skin surrounding his seamed eyes is inflamed. His movements are jerky and off-balance, hindered by his inability to see, but he utilizes his other senses as he progresses with deliberate steps around the sizzling hiss of cinders and heat.

The fine hairs on my body bristle at the inhuman sight of him.

The overman.

Kallum turns to gauge the intruder. “Fuck, he’s big.”

Yanking my wrists against the binding, I try to loosen the rope. “Untie me,” I demand.

He spares me a quick glance before he lowers himself to the ground to grab the discarded knife. Relief uncoils the tension threading my spine as I wait to be set free, until Kallum sets off in the direction of the man.

My heart plummets.

I struggle harder to free myself.

Kallum’s cut form stalks in careful, measured steps toward the center of the cleared circle where the dwindling fire provides enough light to make out the horned man’s brawny build.

He stands opposite Kallum, towering by almost a foot. The antlers give him another two-to-three feet over Kallum.

He’s not a monster, yet he is monstrous. He’s a mortal man who believes he’s invoked the horned god and has become divine in a bestial form. He exerts power and strength in every flexed muscle of his intimidating physique. His biceps are enormous. His thighs are sharply defined along his jeans.

Kallum creeps toward the offender, wielding the knife in a sure grip. The knife carrying our blood—the DNA evidence that will be left on the perpetrator and traced back to us if he injures him, or worse…

This man could be the only way to locate the victims.

The horned man shifts his attention in Kallum’s direction, and my heart flips inside my chest.

“Kallum, no —” I shout, futilely twisting against the rope. “The victims.”

I cry out as I tear one of my hands free of the rope.

Breath caught in my aching lungs, I watch Kallum take a swipe at the beast.

Angling backward out of reach, the horned man barely evades the attack.

My relief is short as a guttural roar is unleashed from the offender. I shiver, my blood icing in my veins. The giant man brings his large hands together to trap Kallum’s neck.

Hefting Kallum off the ground, the horned beast lifts him into the air by his throat with inhuman strength. The knife never makes contact as the offender throws Kallum to the ground with such force, I feel the vibration in the soles of my feet.

A scream wrenches from my gut. My vision wavers along the borders as the beast turns his fury in my direction.

Chest rising with my desperate attempt to fill my lungs, I rush to untie my other wrist. My fingers are numb and clumsy as I fight the knot, my wide gaze staying locked on the stitched eyes.

He charges straight for me.

My hand slips free of the rope and I drop to my haunches. Naked and shivering, I sink my fingers into the damp earth. The horned man with no eyes barrels forward.

His feet thump the ground in heavy beats, sounding louder and speeding faster than the distant drumbeat floating through his ritual ground.

As he nears, he staggers off kilter before righting and correcting course. I take advantage of his misstep and glance around in search of a weapon. Nothing within reach, I look down at my fingers dug into the mud…at the rope.

My vision flickers, swapping the sight with an image of another object in my hand.

A tire iron.

A jolt of alarm pierces the disturbing imagery, and I’m yanked back into the present as his roar shatters the nightmare. I glance at Kallum. He’s splayed out on the ground. I’m facing the beast alone and, as he draws near, I don’t think.

I grab the rope.

Stilling my breaths, I try to control the tremble of my body. I don’t make a sound as his booted feet enter my line of sight.

Slowly, I track my gaze up his large physique. He stares down at me with those empty, stitched sockets, his bare chest heaving. His nostrils flare right before he sways to the right.

I drag in a quick breath. I grip the rope.

He takes hold of one of the slender fawn antlers on my crown. He traces the curve of the bone with reverent curiosity, then inhales deeply as if he’s sniffing me .

With a queasy tumble to my stomach, I realize what he’s scenting.

My blood.

Warmth trickles down my thigh, and I squeeze my legs together. A tremor ricochets through my body, but I try to keep still. Confusion etches the man’s chiseled features and he tilts his head.

He sways again and staggers, releasing the antler.

I don’t waste time wondering what’s wrong—whether he’s intoxicated or wounded—I seize the opportunity to wrap the rope around his ankle.

Using the force of my whole body to dislodge him, I fall backward and bring the beast to the ground with me. Half his weight lands on my legs, pinning me to the earth.

A savage panic rises up from the shadowy trenches of my mind. The fear of being trapped—helpless; attacked —lights a wick of desperation and fury.

Coated in wine and mud and blood, I wrestle my legs from beneath and climb atop his chest like a wild animal. We are two horned beasts battling for dominance.

This man fears death.

That is my only advantage.

His massive body quakes beneath me as his hands flail in frantic search. I hunker low to his torso and secure the rope around his thick neck.

My vision goes dark. The fading embers of the fire casts eerie silhouettes against the veil obscuring my sight like a dreamy shadow play.

The obscured face below me flickers to the distorted crime-scene photos of the Cambridge murder. Like two movie reels have been spliced together, the scenes flip between two faces.

Villain and victim.

The rope gripped in my hands morphs into a tire iron.