Chapter 13 #2
Somehow, impossibly, Varian had flown us from the top of that hill down to the flat bowl at the bottom, a good two hundred feet. That sandwich from earlier was now lodged in my throat, my head was spinning, my brain trying to catch up from where I’d been…
To where we’d landed.
Directly in the path of three of the biggest, meanest creatures I’d ever seen.
Twice the size of normal wolves, their strong jaws dripped with sharp teeth, black bristly manes sticking out around their snarling faces. Each plate-sized paw ended in arched talons, powerful bodies shifting as they dropped Ryland to the ground and focused on their new prey.
Us.
“Well shit,” Varian muttered, dropping my arm.
“Uh, yeah,” I huffed. “Seriously cool trick, seriously bad timing, you moron.”
“Well, it wasn’t like I planned it,” he griped. “I just wanted to impress you.”
“Consider me completely unimpressed,” I muttered. “Especially if we get eaten.”
Behind the trio of Grimbeasts, his leg bloodied, clothing shredded from where their claws and teeth had torn into him, Ryland managed to lift his head and glare daggers at me.
I rolled my eyes. “Unbelievable. That male holds a grudge even longer than me.”
I didn’t hear Varian’s response because I was already moving toward them, far enough away to give Varian a chance to run, close enough to Ryland to…well, since he was still alive, hopefully save him from ending up in one of these things’ bellies.
This close, their foul breath washed over me in fetid waves, and the beasts were bigger, meaner, and outnumbered me three to one.
There was no underestimating the coiled brute strength contained in those powerful bodies, the greedy way their eyes shone with raw hunger. As barren as this place was, we had to be the most food they’d seen in weeks, and they weren’t about to let us escape.
No, they were already shifting into hunting formation, pinning us between them.
But I’d already marked my targets.
All I had to do was be fast and precise.
To get in and out before those deadly claws punctured my heart or a lung.
One deep breath and my body sank into battle readiness, exhaustion forgotten, my muscles loose, my eyes on the prize.
My blades were sharp, I was quick and ruthless, and I had a prince to kill. A kingdom to save.
These things were just in my way.
I left the first one bleeding out on the sand, my knife buried deep in its eye socket, the tip piercing its brain. The second one was warier, circling, trying to herd me closer to the leader, still guarding Ryland, like the creatures understood we’d come to rescue him.
Or didn’t want to lose his next meal.
Varian edged closer, his eyes flicking between me, the Grimbeasts and Ryland, pinned flat by one of those taloned paws, the pack leader now crouched over him, tracking Varian’s every move as he caged Ryland’s body between his powerful legs.
One wrong move and the creature would shred him to pieces with no effort at all.
“Stay clear, Varian,” I hissed. “I’ve got this covered.”
“Don’t give me orders, commander. If I see an opening, I’m taking it.”
“Actually, I am giving you an order. Stand the fuck down.” I kept my gaze fixed on the two remaining Grimbeasts as I pulled my third—and final—blade from my thigh sheath.
If I lost this one, I was screwed, because the rest of my weapons were in my pack, fifty feet behind us.
My aching muscles were stiff; my reflexes slow from no sleep.
Adrenaline, however, pumped through me like liquid energy, fueling my muscles with dizzying power. The rush wouldn’t last long, but I planned to ride this for as long as I could.
The smaller Grimbeast lowered itself into a crouch, muscles tensing beneath thick fur, air and snot bursting out of its wet, black snout, launching toward me in a spectacular leap of five hundred pounds of bared teeth and glinting claws.
I dove, rolled, and plunged my blade straight up into the animal’s soft, exposed gut as it leapt over me, paws spraying up sand on either side of my head as I was surrounded—for one awful second—by nothing but a storm of stinking black fur, flashing talons and grunting growls.
Blood showered me, drenching my clothes, my hair, my face as the hound’s momentum carried that enormous body past me, wrenching the knife out of my slippery fingers, twisting my poor wrist so violently it almost snapped.
The thing landed behind me, floundering in the soft sand, kicking dirt all over me, barely managing to push up to its full height one final time before collapsing.
I turned, weaponless, my knife hand wrenched and numb, worthless for the fight that was coming.
Like the beast recognized my helplessness, the pack leader uncurled itself from Ryland’s prone body and prowled forward, death on four legs, hungry gaze fixed on me like we were the only two things that mattered.
If I didn’t know any better, I would have sworn a gleam of vengeance ignited in those dark eyes, in the warning growl rumbling in its chest before he raised his head to the sky and bayed.
I shifted to my right, forcing the beast to put more distance between him and Ryland, Varian slowly, cautiously moving with me, all sounds of struggle ceasing from the dying Grimbeast behind us.
One careful, slow step. Two. Three.
Sand crunched behind me as Varian mirrored my movements, closing in on Ryland, the beast’s hungry gaze bouncing between us, deciding who made the more promising target.
“Me,” I muttered, eyeing the length of those fucking deadly teeth as I waved my hands to get its attention. “Come on, you ugly fucker. It’s me you want, not them. Trust me, I probably taste better.”
Heart thudding against my ribs, not daring to take my eyes off the enormous creature, I hissed to Varian, “Get to Ryland and do that…thing you did before. Then use the globe to call Zeph. Find cover, and wait for his instructions. I’m leading the beast away from you. Get Ry up and get moving, Varian, now.”
The adrenaline was fading, but I had enough strength for a short burst across the sand. Far enough, perhaps, to give them both a fighting chance, especially if Varian could fly Ryland over one of these hills and out of sight.
Funny.
Two days ago, I would have seen this opportunity as a means to finish them off cleanly, but now…the idea felt wrong. Maybe this was my soldier’s sense of honor, or some bullshit nobility, but I couldn’t leave an injured male at the mercy of an animal.
“Lyrae. On the count of three, I’m throwing you my knife.” Ryland’s calm, steady voice was a shock to my system, momentarily distracting me from the looming threat about to devour me. “Make sure you catch it while Varian distracts this thing.”
“Bad idea,” I grit out. “I run, you two find cover.”
“Fuck you and your bullshit plan. Varian…now.”
A clod of rock and sand shattered against the side of the Grimbeast’s head, and for one second, the creature was obscured by a thick burst of dust. It roared, shaking that thick black fur, dirt spilling off in pale waves.
A blow meant not to incapacitate, but to distract.
“Catch, Lyrae.”
The flash of spinning metal had me raising one hand. Muscle memory had my fingers closing around the warm hilt, still heated from Ryland, as if he’d been grasping it for hours.
A century of experience sent me lunging forward, my body a long line of muscle as I plunged that blade straight through the Grimbeast’s gullet with both hands, before twisting with a sideways jerk to sever the carotid artery.
One hard yank and the honed edge sliced through sinew and flesh, a hot fount of blood drenching my hands and my front.
The beast’s threatening growl turned to a wet, frothy gurgle before it collapsed sideways.
Right on top of me.
“By the gods, get it off.” I clawed at a thousand pounds of twitching muscle and bristly fur, trying to escape the crushing weight. The beast jerked and grunted, desperate little movements that only crushed me deeper into the sandy ground.
Death by Grimbeast would be my epitaph, not even a death I could brag about when I got to the Great Beyond.
How fucking embarrassing is this?
“Hang on, stop thrashing around. I’ve got you.” Varian slid his hands beneath my armpits and hauled me out from underneath all that twitching, bristly weight. “By the gods, that was close. Too fucking close.” He collapsed beside me, panting.
“Nice shot with the clod of dirt.”
“Nice shot with the knife, commander. But gods, you’re a fucking mess.” He managed a wry smile. “Like…really a mess. You stink. And I think that might be brain matter in your hair.”
“Well, you look like…” I scrambled around for something to say, but honestly, with amusement dancing in his golden eyes and those perfect teeth, Varian looked…
A shadow fell over us and I squinted up at Ryland, fists wound tight into my only shirt. My ruined shirt, soaked in Grimbeast blood. “That was possibly the most fucking reckless display of stupidity I have ever seen,” Ryland hissed, nose brushing mine. “I had everything under fucking control.”
“You were about to be eaten for dinner.” I squinted, trying to read his expression with the sun at his back. “And you seem pretty pissed for someone whose life I just saved.”
“I was waiting for the right godsdamned moment to strike. You should have stayed hidden.”
“Instead, I saved your ass. You should be thanking us, really, since you….”
One second, I was down in the sand, the next I was yanked against two hundred pounds of hard, tensed up muscle. Beneath Ryland’s shredded cloak, fresh scratches marked his chest, but those forest green eyes…those eyes belonged to someone I’d once told my secrets to.
Someone I’d trusted with my life.
“That was reckless and stupid and you could have died, Lyrae.” He held me like I weighed nothing, the lines of his face hardened in anger, lips parted so the edge of his teeth showed.
“You take a risk like that again, and I will drag you outside that ward and tie you up for the dragon to find. I swear to the gods I will.”
“Just fucking try it.” I shoved at his chest, and only managed to plant my palms against warm, bare skin, slippery with sweat and blood, his heart thudding wildly against my hand. “I’ll fight you every step of the way.”
“You and I always liked the fight, didn’t we?” His lips were an inch from mine, angry breath tangling with my own. “As I remember, the fighting always came right before the fucking.”
“Too bad this time there will only be fighting.” But gods, how good his body felt, smashed against mine, every hard angle and bulge achingly familiar. I could do it. Close the gap between us, yank him down for a kiss, and every part of me wanted to.
The wild, out of control part that always emerged after a battle…or a fight.
The irrational, possessive part of me that still—after all this time and all his betrayals—wanted Ryland Storme without any shred of sense or pride. The part of me that slyly asked…why not? Why not take what you’ve secretly craved, what no other male has ever measured up to?
“Put me down,” I hissed, slamming my palms into his chest, hard enough to drive the air from his lungs. “Put me the fuck down before I carve off your balls and feed them to the crows.”
Ryland shuddered, as if realizing just how close we were, how heat shimmered between our bodies like banked fire.
He dropped me and I stumbled back a step, nothing but disgust in his flat eyes when he ordered, “Gather up your weapons while we get the packs. Be quick. We have two more miles to cover before dark, and the rest of the hounds will come once they smell blood.”
I stared at the stain spreading through the sand around the three bodies. At Ryland, storming away over the sands—no pun intended—at Varian, his dark eyes piercing through me, as if he saw something nobody else did.
One fucking day.
I’d been around them one fucking day and already, all my carefully drawn lines were blurring, my head—and my heart—fucking disastrous messes.
For too long, I’d been living on scraps of memories, and having them both here, close enough to touch, had emotions carving through me like the knife I was still holding.
I was jealous they’d had each other and I’d been alone.
I was furious at losing my sister, furious at them for their broken promises.
But above my own tangled nest of feelings, one word loomed large, like a tavern sign I could not ignore.
Late.
Ryland and Varian might be back in my life, and I could be envious and pissed off and borderline obsessed with them both, but they were too late.
The Lyrae they’d known no longer existed.
The one who had fallen head over heels in love with them, her heart filled with hope for the future, making those big plans for the rest of their lives. The one who drew hearts on the walls of the safehouse and dreamed of flowers and babies, not swords and death.
That Lyrae was gone, buried beneath a thousand evil deeds and layers of scar tissue, and I couldn’t resurrect her, even if I wanted to.
This version of myself was too ruined, my hands too blood-soaked, my soul too stained. And while the phrase better late than never also came to mind, somehow, I wished I’d never seen them again, because now…
Now I ached for all those things I’d never have.