Chapter 24 #2
He knew this moment would come, and Neve thought he had been prepared for it.
He was wrong.
He glared at the assembly of warriors searching for the male, growling like a beast.
His vision turned red along the edges when Olwen stepped out of the circle of giants and approached Lia with his hands held up. She didn’t seem afraid of the berserker. Olwen gently wrapped his hand around her wrist. “You can drop the sword. No one will hurt you.”
Neve could not take his eyes from the male’s hand on Lia’s wrist. Touching her skin. Skin he had been denied for months. The growl deepened.
Olwen pinned Neve with a look. “Reillov, I mean no disrespect, but you’re scaring her.”
He wasn’t doing anything. Olwen was the one touching his wife. He inhaled deeply, catching the acrid scent of her fear. “Get your hands off her! She doesn’t want you touching her.”
“You’re the one snarling and growling, Reillov.”
That pulled him up short. Neve blinked hard, trying to think past the uncivilized, monstrous part of himself that he had tried to lock away.
His chest was rumbling. The snarls were coming from him?
He tried to calm down but found he could not stop the deep primal Loriian part of himself.
Serenity dropped from the sky, screaming a warning before swooping back up, circling above.
He glared at the astrylle, offended that the creature would think he was a danger to his own mate.
“I would never hurt her,” he managed to say.
“I know that, but does she?” Olwen took the sword from Lia’s hands but did not put it down. Instead, he released Neve’s wife and stepped in front of her as if to protect her from him. From her husband.
He leaned around his commander to see his wife, hating that there was someone between them. She was hurt. Sick even. She needed him.
“My king,” Olwen said softly, pulling Neve’s attention back to him. “Would you like us to come to your tent?”
“I would like you to step away from my mate,” he snapped back in Loriian.
“Not until I know you’re calm, Reillov.”
He was wrong. Neve was perfectly calm. All he wanted was for the vallos to get out of the way so he could help his niliave without tearing Olwen’s throat out.
Inhaling in a deep breath did nothing but flood his senses with more of Dahlia’s fear and spicy ginger scent. “Move,” he growled.
His commander shook his head. “I will not.”
Traitor. Enemy. Thief, his mind hissed.
White-hot rage flashed through him, and he lunged.
He batted away the sword like it was a child’s toy and caught Olwen by the throat.
He hefted the bulky vallos off the ground and tossed him like he was a ragdoll.
He stared as Olwen hit the ground and rolled, popping back onto his feet.
A glimmer of white around his eyes. The berserker was coming out to play.
A cold hand touched his chest, and he jerked, his hand reflexively wrapping around the delicate bones. Dahlia stood before him, shivering. He stared down at the woman who inspired so many conflicting emotions. She should have run from him, but instead, Lia tried to calm him.
He savored her touch, eyes closing a moment as he tried to rein in the bond fever.
Too many eyes were on them. He needed a safe place with her.
Privacy. Needed to get her away from all the warriors.
When he opened his eyes, he locked onto her own.
They were empty, almost desolate. It was enough to crack through the rage.
Something was very wrong with his human.
She needed safety and warmth. He scooped her into his arms and took off running.
Serenity screeched but did not attack him. He glanced at the sky. The astrylle perched on the tallest tent pole of his home as if she knew her mistress would be staying there.
They burst into his tent in no time. He panted and made it to his bed. Before it had seemed so cozy and inviting, but now it did not seem good enough to lay his niliave down on. He set her down on the edge and stepped away, his muscles rippling as he kept himself from pouncing on her.
Think through the fever. What does she need?
“Neve,” Lia said softly.
He held out his palm, his hand shaking, and pointed a finger at her. “Do not speak,” he hissed.
While the bond urged him to take care of his mate, the rage and betrayal still simmered beneath the surface. He could not stand listening to her voice. It inspired too many memories. Like when she’d tried to kill him. Her presence was tearing him asunder.
Neve half stumbled to his washing basin and dipped a clean cloth into the water.
He rushed back to her side and knelt before the bed, and began cleaning the blood from her chest. The rag came away brownish red and blue.
His molars ground together. She had hidden from him. She had left him. Had made him suffer.
He paused, dropping his head, and took deep breaths, letting her scent soothe him.
Focus on helping her.
Despite all the negative emotions she brought to the surface, he had a visceral need to care for her that Neve could not deny. “Lie back,” he demanded, his voice gravelly and dark, even to his own ears.
She eyed him and then slowly complied, her empty gaze never leaving him. It pleased part of him that she did not cry or run, just accepted his help. He gritted his teeth as he cleaned the wound on her neck. It was an ugly ragged bite.
Someone had marked his queen.
He hissed, and she shifted slightly away from him.
Neve caught her round hip in his hand to hold her still, his claws flexing at the familiarity of the gesture.
Why was everything about her so perfect?
He forced himself to climb to his feet to clean the rag and then sped back to her side. The bite would need stitches.
“I am coming inside,” Olwen called.
Neve snarled and pulled Lia farther onto the bed and into his lap. He wrapped her around him until she was straddling him and placed his back to the entrance. No one deserved to see her like this. He peered over his shoulder when the commander stepped inside.
He held no weapons. Just worry in his face. “How is she?”
“She needs stitches.”
“I’ll send for the nonnae.”
“Nonnae,” Lia whispered, pulling his attention back to the woman he’d curled himself around. She peered up at him, some of the emptiness draining away—a bit of true emotion shining through. “They’re coming.”
Neve frowned, brushing a strand of hair from her bruised cheek. “Who is coming?”
“The dimedons.” Fear filled the air.
She started to shake in his grasp. Lia placed both of her palms on his chest, regret creasing her brow. “I need you to listen. Haunts attacked us in the mountains. They wore silver dimedon pins, and they . . .” she closed her eyes and swallowed hard before opening them again. “They are coming.”
“Haunts?” Olwen asked.
“Pointy teeth,” she answered.
Neve froze. The only clan of frost giants with teeth like that were… the Northerners. Blood and curses, why had Warrin sent help through the mountains? He wouldn’t have. An ambush.
“Where?”
She shook harder, her breaths coming in more pants, sight unfocused. He set the rag down and cupped her cheeks, attempting to bring her back from whatever hell she was slipping into.
“Where, Dahlia? This is important.”
“The mountains. I could see Mizar when they found us.”
The woman who had destroyed everything had most certainly just saved their lives.
“Olwen?”
“I will assemble the men now.” His commander sprinted from the tent.
A battle was coming. One that would cut deep.