Chapter 26
My hands warm with magic, my fingers tingling as I take a pointed step toward the crowd forming around Gunnar.
Like he knew what I was thinking, Fox reaches for my arm and tries to pull me back. I ignore him, yanking my arm free before he can get a good grip on me, and taking another step toward the screaming, writhing boy.
Fox wraps an arm around my waist, and yanks my entire body forcibly back. My feet leave the ground, and I kick out widely, clawing at his forearm with my nails. “Let me go!”
“There’s nothing you can do,” he replies under his breath.
“Yes, there is!” I snap, not caring that the entire crowd can probably hear us.
Fox’s arm clamps around my waist like iron as he hauls me backward, my boots leaving furrows in the bloodstained snow. “Let go!”
His breath burns hot against my ear. “Don’t.”
I jerk my chin toward Gunnar’s trembling form. The boy’s eyes are rolling up into his head, blood bubbling at his lips with each rattling breath.
Fox’s fingers tighten, bruising. “Not. Here.” His jaw ticks beneath taut skin, gaze darting to the watching wolves.
“But—”
He lifts me off my feet and strides almost all the way to the opposite side of the camp before dropping me again.
“One more hunt,” he hisses before I can get a single word out. “That’s all you’d buy him by getting involved.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do. He’s not strong enough for this.”
“I thought you liked him. You helped him train, remember?” I ask shrilly.
Fox winces. “I know. Don’t you think I fucking wish it wasn’t like this?”
I jut out my chin defiantly. “Then let me help.”
“No! You save his life today, and he’ll just bleed out from a different wound tomorrow. The only fucking difference is they’ll burn your body right alongside his.”
We stand frozen, our ragged breathing the only sound between us as the screams from across the camp grow weaker. Soon, they’ll cut off altogether into a silence more terrible than any noise.
“I don’t care,” I hiss, and before Fox can stop me I yank my arm from his grip and dash back to the center of camp.
Almost the entire camp is crowded around Gunnar, and I have to push my way to the front. He’s even quieter, his pained groans little more than gasps. I quickly kneel beside him, assessing his injuries.
It’s worse than I could have ever imagined.
His stomach looks as if it’s been carved open, probably by some enormous creature’s razor sharp talons. It couldn’t have helped to be carried back to camp so roughly, and I nearly gag when I see the bubbling blood and churning of his insides.
Healing is not my strongest ability, it would really be better if I could give Gunnar one of my potions, but they’re back in the tent and I don’t think I have time to get them.
I press my hands against Gunnar’s mangled flesh, channeling magic through my fingertips until they burn white-hot.
The edges of the wound crawl toward each other, blood vessels knitting beneath my trembling palms. My vision swims, darkness creeping in from the corners as I pour more of myself into him than I can afford.
When I finally pull away, the gash has sealed into an angry red seam. It’s still raw, but no longer bleeding. With his accelerated shifter healing, he should live.
I take a stumbling step backwards and hit someone’s large chest. A strong hand clamps over my upper arm, holding me upright and captive at the same time. For a moment I think it’s Fox, but then the smell and feeling is all wrong.
“Didn’t I tell you? She’s a fucking witch!” Viktor yells, shaking me violently.
There’s a chorus of growls and I know I should be scared, but it’s difficult to think about anything except how I can barely keep my eyes open.
Suddenly Fox is there, yanking me back out of Viktor’s grip and shoving me behind him. “Don’t fucking touch her.”
“She’s a witch!” Viktor screams again, his finger jabbing toward me like a weapon. “You all saw it! We have laws. We don’t tolerate magic here.”
“We also don’t harm mates,” a voice that sounds like Luka yells from somewhere in the crowd.
“I don’t believe they’re really mated.” Viktor’s lips curl into a sneer, his eyes sliding from me to Fox. “Everyone knows we cannot form those bonds anymore, and if they did, then doesn’t it prove he was always more Fae than shifter?”
I watch as the accusation ripples through the crowd. Wolves shuffle nervously around us, and I hear several gasps punctuating the whispers that grow louder by the second.
“If you even look at her again, I’ll fucking kill you,” Fox says, the calm in his tone almost eerie as compared to Viktor’s spitting rage.
“You liked Dyaspora that much?” Viktor sneers. “Ready to go back there so soon?”
“All I saw was her healing one of ours,” a female voice yells suddenly. “Gunnar is practically a child. I don’t have a problem with someone who protects our children.”
There’s a rippling murmur of agreement, and I smile weakly, recognizing that voice as Inga’s.
“Nor do I,” Kai adds, backing her up. “And I don’t give a fuck about the queen’s laws no matter who they’re aimed at.”
“Your opinion doesn’t matter. You’re not even an alpha,” Viktor says, voice dripping with menace.
I watch in horror as several wolves nod their agreement with Viktor, their faces hardening as they move to stand beside him, forming a menacing wall. One man spits on the ground near my feet, and another cracks his knuckles, the sound sharp as breaking bones in the tense air.
Then, somehow, everything erupts at once. One moment there’s tense silence, the next—Viktor launches himself at me with a feral snarl, his face contorting as his teeth elongate before my eyes.
I barely have time to wonder if something was said mind-to-mind that might have set him off, before everything blurs. True to his promise, Fox lunges, his shoulder connecting with Viktor’s chest in mid-air with a sickening thud.
At the same moment, my vision swims, darkness creeping in at the edges as my legs threaten to give out beneath me. Strong arms catch me from behind. I smell leather and citrus and don’t have to look to know it’s Jett. “I’ve got you,” he says. “Come on, we need to get the fuck out of the way.”
Normally, I would argue. I’d want to help, but right now I can barely speak let alone hold a sword. I let Jett drag me out of the way as Fox collides with Viktor again. The air around them shimmers, bones cracking and reforming as fur erupts across their skin.
Where two men stood heartbeats ago, now two massive wolves circle each other.
Fox’s white coat gleams like fresh snow even in the dim light, while Viktor’s is his complete opposite—a gray so dark it’s nearly black.
Their snarls vibrate through my chest as they lunge, teeth flashing, tearing into each other with primal fury.
Then, all at once, everyone is fighting.
There are more wolves growling and snarling at each other than I’ve ever seen since arriving here.
Hardly anyone draws their swords, as they didn’t have their weapons with them during dinner, but those few who have blades are evenly matched by the wolves’ razor-sharp teeth.
A flash of movement catches my eye—Connell’s retreating form as he bolts from the camp, running almost gleefully.
“He’s escaping,” I manage to say, the words slurring slightly.
Jett doesn’t seem to care. His grip on me tightens, his attention remaining fixed on my swaying body rather than the fleeing pirate.
“We need to move,” he whispers urgently, his knife glinting in his free hand as he half-carries me toward the tents.
My head swims, but I force my legs to move, helping to stumble out of the way of the brawling wolves.
We’ve nearly escaped the center of camp when a flash of russet fur streaks between two canvas tents, its teeth flashing as it heads straight for us. Jett’s boots skid in the mud and he yanks me sideways, barely able to get out of the way while maneuvering my nearly limp body.
The wolf’s ears flatten against its massive skull. Its yellow eyes lock on mine, pupils narrowing to pinpoints. I feel it’s hot breath on my face as it lunges for my throat.
Suddenly a grey wolf lunges out of nowhere, knocking the russet one out of the air.
They go tumbling across the ground, knocking into the canvas side of a tent and nearly bowling it over. Both wolves jump up again, circling each other.
A growl rumbles from the russet wolf’s chest as its jaws lunge for the grey one’s neck. The grey wolf answers with a deeper, more threatening snarl, positioning itself firmly between us and the russet beast.
The wolves collide in a blur of teeth and fur, their bodies twisting and tumbling across the ground. When the grey wolf finally clamps down on the russet one’s jugular, I taste bile rising in my throat. Hot blood pools around them, seeping into the ground and melting the snow.
I watch, paralyzed, as the russet wolf’s struggles grow weaker, then stop altogether.
After a long second, the grey wolf raises its head, meeting my eyes. My heart stops as my eyes land on the white star on the wolf’s forehead. Runa.
I don’t know what to say, and several seconds pass as Runa’s amber eyes hold mine. Then, before anyone can do anything, another chorus of snarls erupts from the center of camp.
My gaze snaps to a space between the tents where I can see Fox and Viktor still locked together in a fight. I’ve seen Viktor out on the practice field, and he’s nowhere near as talented as Fox. If this were a sword fight it would already be over, but as wolves they’re well matched.
I’ve never seen Fox fight anyone who was even close to his level before. What if Viktor actually kills him?
The fear settles inside me, sharpening my mind. I suddenly feel less drained, and take a pointed step back toward the center of camp.
“Wait!” Jett hisses, reaching for me. “Where the fuck are you going?”
I don’t answer, too focused on the fight to think about anything else. Both Fox and Viktor’s fur look matted with fresh blood, but it stands out far more noticeably against Fox’s white coat. How much of that blood is his?
The other wolves seem to have stopped fighting for the most part, and those who are still standing begin backing away, creating a wider arena for the two alphas as their battle intensifies.
Fox’s teeth snap at Viktor’s throat, missing by a whisker as the dark wolf dodges. Fox lunges again, but Viktor feints left and drives forward, forcing Fox back one step, then another. The crackling fire hisses behind him, orange embers swirling dangerously close to his tail.
Sweat breaks across my forehead as Fox’s back paw slips at the fire’s edge, sending sparks flying. The scent of burning fur rises in the air.
Suddenly, Fox looks up. His ice blue-eyes seem to find mine without effort, his gaze locking with me across the chaos. “Sword.”
The split-second connection jolts through me like lightning. I blink, startled. I could swear that thought didn’t come from me. It didn’t even sound like me, but I don’t bother to waste time questioning it.
“Give me your sword,” I hiss at Jett, glad that this time my voice comes out almost normally.
“Wait, but—”
“Sword!” I hiss, reaching for the hilt of the blade strapped to his belt.
Jett finally reacts, yanking the blade free and handing it to me. I spin back around, and the blade catches firelight as I hurl it spinning through the air, end over end toward the white wolf.
Instantly, bones crack and fur recedes as Fox’s wolf form blurs into his normal shape—a ripple of magic and muscle that happens between one heartbeat and the next.
His fingers close around the spinning hilt mid-air, the momentum carrying his arm in a fluid circle and the sword slashes into the black wolf’s throat.
A dull, wet sound echoes through the camp and Viktor’s snarl transforms into a gurgling gasp. Dark arterial blood spurts from his neck in a perfect crimson arc, then he sways once before collapsing in a heap, unmoving.
For a long moment no one moves. Fox stands framed by the enormous bonfire, naked and bleeding, with the nearly decapitated wolf lying at his feet. He lowers his sword, letting it hang loosely from one hand.
The silence is absolutely deafening, and I can actually hear the rhythmic drip, drip of the blood oozing off Fox’s sword.
Then, a lone cry pierces the silence as Kai, still in wolf form, tips his head back and howls. Luka joins him, then Inga, then I nearly jump out of my skin when Runa, who is still beside me, adds her voice to the chorus.
“What the fuck is happening?” Jett asks, pulling my attention.
I shake my head. I don’t know, but it feels significant.
The hair on my arms stands on end as dozens of wolves join in howling. Those still in human form slam fists against their chests before tilting their heads to expose their throats.
I gasp with understanding. “They’re bowing to him.”
“Why?” Jett asks, sounding bewildered.
“Because he’s the alpha.”
I hold my breath when I look back at Fox, waiting to see what he’ll do now that the wolves have acknowledged him as their leader.
My heart squeezes when I see he’s not even looking at them. It’s as if they’re not there. He stares through the crowd, his blue eyes locked on mine alone, burning brighter than the leaping flames of the bonfire.