15. Rakk #2
I can't speak past the pain radiating up my arm. Can't form words when my vision is starting to blur at the edges.
She turns and walks away. Leaves me standing alone on the path with a shattered wrist hidden beneath leather wraps and the certain knowledge that I just broke something irreparable between us.
I make it back to the training yards before my legs give out. Lean heavily against the weapon rack while nausea rolls through me in waves. The wrist is bad. Worse than anything the binding has inflicted so far.
"What in the frozen hells was that?"
Kaelen's voice cuts through the haze. I force myself upright. "Clan business."
"Clan business?" He stalks closer, fury written across every line of his body. "That's what you call brutalizing your mate in front of—"
"I didn't brutalize—"
"I saw you! Everyone saw you!" He's shouting now, drawing attention from nearby warriors. "You dragged her through the plaza like she was—"
"Like she needed to be controlled." The words taste like ash. "Like the clan expects me to—"
His fist catches me across the jaw before I can react.
I crash backward into the weapon rack. Training blades clatter to the ground around me. Blood fills my mouth.
"Get up." Kaelen's hands are already forming fists again. "Get up so I can beat some sense into you."
"Kaelen, stop—"
"You don't get to treat her that way!" Another punch, this one to my ribs. Right where yesterday's bruises haven't healed. Something cracks. "I don't care what the clan expects. I don't care about your father's approval. You wanted her! You told me you loved her!"
I try to defend myself, but my broken wrist makes blocking impossible. His next strike sends me sprawling.
"You were happy with her!" He follows me down, landing blow after blow. "You smiled for the first time in years! And now you're destroying her and destroying yourself and for what? Pride?"
"You don't understand—"
"Then make me understand!" He hauls me up by my armor straps and slams me against the canyon wall hard enough to crack stone. "Tell me why my best friend has become exactly the kind of male we swore we'd never be!"
Blood runs down my face. My vision swims. The broken wrist hangs useless at my side.
And something inside me finally shatters.
"Because it's killing me!" The words rip out of my throat. "Every time I touch her. Every time I have to grab her or pull her or make it look like dominance. The binding transfers it all to me and it's destroying me and I can't stop because if I do, someone else will hurt her worse!"
Kaelen freezes. His grip on my armor loosens. "What binding?"
"Soul-binding." I sag against the wall. "During the ceremony. I bound myself to her. She takes nothing she doesn't choose. All pain. All suffering. It flows to me instead."
"That's not possible. No one has successfully—"
"I did." Blood drips from my split lip. "And now every brutal touch the clan expects? Every harsh grip? Every punishment I'm forced to perform? It all comes back to me while she remains unmarked."
Understanding floods his expression. Then horror. "Rakk, you're killing yourself."
"Better me than her."
"She doesn't even know! She thinks you're—"
"I know what she thinks." My legs finally give out. I slide down the wall, cradling my broken wrist. "I know exactly what she thinks, and I can't tell her the truth without revealing magic that would destroy everything."
"Brother..." Kaelen's fury drains away, replaced by something that looks like grief.
Heavy footsteps announce Gorrak's arrival. My father's second-in-command takes one look at the scene—blood on stone, weapons scattered, both of us breathing hard—and his expression turns thunderous.
"To the healing chambers. Now. Both of you."
Zurkar's pale eyes narrow when we stumble through his door. Lola gasps, her hands flying to her mouth.
"What happened?" The shaman gestures us toward treatment benches.
"Disagreement," Gorrak grunts. "Handle it. And keep your mouths shut about this."
He leaves, probably to report to my father. Perfect. One more disappointment to add to the growing pile.
Lola immediately starts cleaning blood from Kaelen's knuckles while Zurkar approaches me. His weathered hands probe my injuries with practiced efficiency, but when he reaches my wrist, he goes very still.
"This needs setting." His violet eyes meet mine. "And it will hurt."
"Everything hurts."
"Not like this will." He glances at Kaelen and Lola. "Hold him."
Kaelen moves to my good side while Lola positions herself at my shoulders. Zurkar unwraps the leather bracer I've kept hidden for weeks, revealing not just the fresh break but layers of older bruising in various stages of healing. Purple. Yellow-green. Black.
Lola makes a choked sound. "Rakk..."
"The binding," Zurkar says quietly, "is taking more than you can sustain."
"I don't have a choice."
"There are always choices." He grips my wrist. "This will—"
Pain whites out my vision as he sets the bone. I hear someone screaming—realize distantly that it's me. Kaelen's grip tightens. Lola's hands press against my shoulders, holding me down.