Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
“On the Black Wolf’s honor,” he repeated, low and cold. “Do you dare question that?”
An instant later, Ironcliff lunged first, snarling as he drove his shoulder into the other hunter hard enough to slam both of them into the stone wall.
Gloomheath cursed and came back with a knife, shoving low and ugly beneath Heathcliff’s ribs.
The blade went in deeper than either of them expected.
For one stunned heartbeat, they both stilled.
Then Heathcliff staggered back, staring down at the dark spill spreading across his leathers. “You fool—”
The other hunter didn’t let him finish. He ripped the knife free and struck again, wild now, desperate, until the Ironcliff hunter collapsed in a heavy sprawl on the stair.
Gloomheath turned toward us, panting, blood running from a cut over one eye and one arm hanging wrong at his side. He took one limping step up, trying to lift his blade. “The bride prize is mine. I won.”
I moved before Everest opened his mouth. My crescent flashed once, and the edge kissed his throat clean and sure.
The male’s eyes widened in disbelief. He swayed, dropped to his knees, and toppled forward onto the blood-slick stone.
I stood over him, chest heaving, blade dripping red. “I never promised not to interfere.”
Beside me, the tense set of Everest’s body finally loosened. He huffed out a ragged breath, eyes meeting mine through iron slits. “I’ve known Heathcliff for years. He’s not the smartest male. I knew if he took the bait, Niall would follow.”
A breath of relief slipped through my lips. Of course he’d been lying. Gods, but for a moment I wasn’t certain. He must have read the doubt in my expression because something like disappointment flashed across the hard line of his jaw.
“You didn’t honestly believe I would simply give you up to them?”
Steeling my spine, I pressed my lips into a tight line. “Sometimes, I don’t know what to believe, Everest.”
He closed the space between us, eyes softening until I forgot to breathe.
“Believe in me.” Then quieter. “Believe in our king.” Then he crouched down before me, and his gloved hand cupped my thigh just above the cut, careful, gentle.
The feral heat in him bent toward something else.
His tongue jutted out, running across his bottom lip.
He looked at the wound as if he were considering something.
“It’s shallow,” I rasped. My breath was still racing. “More annoyance than harm.”
He inhaled slowly, steadying himself, and the savage expression waned. He dropped to a knee, unwrapped a small roll from his satchel on the floor, and pressed a clean cloth to the line of blood. His hands were steady again. Mine were not.
“Did I imagine it or did you almost kiss me before?” I blurted the question before my courage could die. Or worse, before I thought better of it.
His head lifted. Rain drummed the glass above us, and the lantern room gears clicked softly in their slow wind-down. The silence thickened.
“I did.” A beat. “But it was a mistake.”
Something crumbled inside me. “A mistake?”
“Yes.” The darkness in his eyes changed, not softer, just truer. “The full moon is in two days,” he said, pausing. “Everything is louder. Desire included, as I warned you it would be. Our Wolvryn take control and—”
Another horn blew in the distance cutting him off.
Everest’s eyes widened for an instant before he muttered a curse. He tied off the bandage, firm and neat, then rose and held out his palm. “Can you run?”
I wanted to refuse his hand, to guard what was left of my pride. His words had stung and taking it felt like admitting that. He’d excused the almost kiss on his wild Wolvryn impulses. Lie or truth? Who the frost knew?
I nodded and slid my palm into his anyway. Heat climbed my arm at the touch, as shameless as a spark. "Thank you."
"I live to serve," he teased, hand gripping mine firmly as he helped me test my weight on the wounded leg. It wasn't too bad. Sore, but with some packed snow and more of his tea, it wouldn't slow me down too much.
And that was what I should have been focused on. Moving faster. Reaching the throne. Claiming the crown and the edicts.
"About the cot… you were right." I forced the words out before I could think too much on the truth. That I wanted him, even without a Wolvryn pushing at my bones. "I mean to win, Everest. I shouldn't have—"
He glanced at me over his shoulder and nodded.
"From now on, I must focus solely on what I came here to do."
His head dipped again. "I look forward to seeing a crown on your head, Calista Vale." Then his hand tightened around mine as we moved down the stairs together, past the crumpled bodies and the pool of blood on the steps.
The wind held the door wide, and cold rain iced my face, nearly erasing the foolish ache in my chest. I told myself this was survival, not surrender. If I meant to win, which I did, I needed this male as my guard, not my ruin.
“Everest…” I called out over the storm. Then I stilled my tongue. His name lingered between us, along with all the other things unsaid.
“Just keep breathing, little wolf.”
He never let go of my hand as we raced into the rain.