Chapter 107

Although a feral, the werewolf’s blood was far more potent than a mere human, bringing with it a satisfying rush that eased the black rage.

Shuddering in relief, Rhye allowed the madness to recede. Slowly, the red haze dissipated from his mind, clearing his thoughts and relaxing the knotted muscles. As the fog lifted, he glanced around the ruined kitchen with a frown. What the hell? Painful minutes passed as he struggled to recall where he was and what had happened. His last true memory had been of himself in a small, cramped cell. 

The stupid demon—Garnarld, yes that had been his name—had yanked him through a portal. That’s when things began to get fuzzy. There’d been pacing and cussing and futile attempts to break down the door. That he damned well remembered. Then he’d gone deep inside himself to avoid the looming panic, hadn’t he? So how did he get out of the cell?

"Rhye?"

Lily’s soft voice, along with the tantalizing scent of lilac, was nothing more than a