27. Shattered Promises
Shattered Promises
Eliza
T he next day, standing on the grounds where Malcolm would be fighting Beliel, Eliza couldn’t shake her nerves whenever she imagined Malcolm fighting the redhead. She wished she’d just blasted him into oblivion.
A cold shiver ran down her spine every time he looked her way. He looked at her with amusement, clearly aware of her dislike for him. She stood and watched Malcolm speak with Robert at the edge of the ring. She wanted to tell him not to fight, that he didn’t need to, but she’d be wrong.
He was doing this not for himself but for his people.
It would be selfish of her to interfere, and it wasn’t like Malcolm wasn’t aware of how dangerous Beliel was. She’d finally learned what his men had found when they went to Douglas’s land. There was nothing left but dead bodies, and the women and children had seemingly disappeared in a puff of smoke.
Which, in their world, could be more literal than one thought. She didn’t realize she was muttering and glaring at Beliel until Malcolm stepped before her, cutting off her view of him.
“Don’t worry. I won’t lose to him,” he said, trying to soothe her worry.
She frowned. “You didn’t watch Game of Thrones because if you had, you’d know what happened to the guy who acted just like you.”
Malcolm laughed. “Well, this isn’t a T.V. show, and if this were, tell me what comes after the great warrior’s success?”
Eliza side-eyed him. “Are you trying to direct me, Alpha Malcolm?”
Taking her hand, he gently drew her closer. “First, I want to make sure you’re feeling okay?”
Realizing what he was talking about, she flushed. “There was some discomfort, but that was it.” She didn’t want to have this conversation outside, but it would seem like she’d learned early on. Werewolves didn’t do shame. “I feel okay now after some walking.”
“Then—” Eyes turning hot, he leaned down, and Eliza felt her heart rate pick up when he whispered in her ear. “I will require my mate after this.” Thighs tightening, she felt her yearning for his touch explode.
Drawing back, he pressed his lips to hers, nipping her bottom lip playfully.
Then he let her go and went to the circle pit where they’d fight.
Still, despite Malcolm’s assurances, she felt anxious.
Something wasn’t right, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
Malcolm stood opposite Belial; she could feel the tension in the air. Her lips were pressed together as she watched the two circle each other.
“Do you know if it’s first blood or death?” Jamie asked Archie, from where they stood a bit away.
Surprised, she asked them, “What are you talking about?”
The two shared a sheepish look. Robert cleared his throat. “Sorry, Eliza, we didn’t see you there.”
“Whether you saw me here or not doesn’t matter. What did you mean when you asked him, blood or death?” She demanded, turning away from the fighting ring.
“When two Alphas fight, especially when another demands a blood price, the Aldermen give them two choices: They can fight until the first person draws blood or…to death,” Jamie explained awkwardly.
She stiffly turned to watch Malcolm dust sand off his arms. Eliza wanted to scream at him, but unfortunately, all she could do was curl her fingers around the railing. “And what did he say he would do?”
“Beliel, the new Alpha of Dougal, said he would fight to the death,” Jamie answered solemnly.
She scoffed. “And Malcolm agreed to this?”
Both Jamie and Archie said nothing. Each already knew that the mate for their Alpha was upset; her lips were pressed together, and her eyes were narrowed on Malcolm. “What would happen if I stopped it?”
Robert tensed, whipping his eyes to her face only to drop them out of respect. “Y-you can’t; if you did, it would…” He trailed off.
“It would bring dishonor,” she finished, drawing his gaze.
She shook her head. “I am growing sick of hearing about this honor issue with your people,” she said, anger coating her voice. “Your honor allowed his sister to live in hell, and now she can’t even find another mate. Your honor drove him from your lands and now once again. This honor is why his life is on the line.”
Jamie frowned at her. “Outsiders couldn’t possibly understand, but honor for our kind has been the decider of life or death for our people.”
“You don’t like me,” she said, her voice cold. “And I don’t have an issue with that; plenty of people hate me for something I have no control over. But the same could be said about you; beast shifters aren’t liked much in Veil City either.”
She didn’t flinch from Jamie's hateful look and wouldn’t be afraid. “I am who I am, but I am the mate of Malcolm first,” she lifted her chin. “I will choose for him if it comes between his life or his honor.”
With that, she gave them her back and returned to her chair.
Jamie's eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand what our Alpha sees in her.”
“You don’t, and you shouldn’t,” Archie said softly.
Jamies glared at him, “Is that what you think?”
“We can’t have more than one man finding her impressive,” Archie smirked. “Our Alpha would rip their head off. You should also be thankful Malcolm didn’t see that exchange either.”
Jamie glared at him. “I guess.”
With that, Archie turned his attention back to the fight before him. “Will is ready with the others; they will move in when Malcolm wins.”
“Do you think the plan will work?” Jamie asked.
Archie gave a short nod, “It will. Malcolm has always been good with sneaky plans such as this.”
Malcolm
Malcolm grunted as his body was lifted in the air and he was thrown down. Hitting the packed dirt, his body rolled. He’d known Beliel had strength as the man had shown it when he’d participated in the tree-throwing competition.
“Come, McLaren, don’t tell me you’re already tired?” Beliel taunted from a few feet away. His skin exposed to the sun, gave Malcolm the view of his clan tattoos. He frowned at them as he rose back to his feet.
“You’re not an outsider,” Malcolm said, as he approached the other. “You, what pack are you from?”
Beliel pressed a hand against his chest, his eyes bright. “You’re interested in my markings.” His blood-red hair swished behind him like a tail. “Here, I’ll tell you when I’m at death's door.”
Malcolm grinned. “You’re awfully sure, you’ll win?’
Beliel spread his arms wide. “There aren’t many who can say they can beat me.”
Malcolm answered that provocation with action not words; he ran at Beliel. Clashing midair, he didn’t retract his claws and aimed for the man’s throat; he felt the skin rip as he sliced across. The blood scent filled the air, as he followed up with a fist to the other male’s stomach.
“Good,” Beliel snarled. “Fight me.” He drew back and slammed his claws into Malcolm's shoulder only to rip them out cruelly.
Biting back a cry of pain, Malcolm spun, slamming his foot into the man’s neck. He put space between them, placing a hand on his shoulder. His eyes burned as they lost their green color. “Yes, I agree.”
They ran at each other again; their exchange of blows aiming to injure and maul. The crowd stirred as blood fell across the sand. There wasn’t a single werewolf who’d look down on either Alpha, who was fighting to defend their fates and honor.
Eliza could only watch in silence as she saw the wounds grow on Malcolm's body—a body that had already been well decorated with scars. She wanted to scream at them to stop, but that would be wrong. She had to show her faith in her mate; her human sentiments had to be left in the past. She was a witch, and the world she now occupied was far more ruthless than she could have imagined.
During her time at the shade, she’d lived within a bubble. Women who worked at the shade enjoyed a certain level of privilege. Everyone knew that if you messed with one of the witches at Madam's club, you were asking for trouble.
The last people who’d dared to insult witches had lost their business, and the vampires had taken a great interest in them and their families. She shivered every time she remembered the pleading of the men in the club's foyer, begging for his daughter to be returned.
At that time, she’d thought that Lanias was too much. The woman showed little care for anything; the only time she seemed even a bit human was when she was with her sister or her cousin. And occasionally, when the two of them spoke, but that was it.
She often wondered what kind of world the other woman had grown up in to make her so ruthless. But after her stint in hell, she was learning more and more, why people in Veil City often reminded others they were monsters.
Beings: Witches, Shifters, Demons, Gods, Devils, and Fallen Angels lacked that thing that made them human. The enjoyment of life was more important than the woes. They only did what they were interested in doing.
If one had to choose a word for them, it was self-serving.
No one in Veil City did anything for nothing. Even her being hired had served a purpose, though she couldn’t tell what it was to this day. Her inquiries had always been brushed off. She eventually gave up asking and just took it as her luck.
She had endured being treated like an outsider by her family for so many years. Nervously, she rubbed her wrist, where the hand had been sewn to her arm.
“Agh,” a sharp masculine scream brought her back to the present, panic rushing, strangling her. She found Beliel on his knees, and his hand was pressed to his bleeding eye.
Malcolm stood over him, his chest rising up and down rapidly as his upper body sported both dirt and deep gashes. He reached out, dug his fingers into Beliel’s hair, and yanked his head back. “Any last words?”
Beliel stared up at him with his good eye, grinning.
“Last words,” he shouted. “No, McLaren, you’re the one who should be thinking over your last words.”
Eliza immediately became tense as she felt a large wave of magic suddenly let loose all around her. Before she could consciously decide, her body moved on its own just as the ground beneath their feet lit up from the Magic circle there. In a split second, the entire clearing was filled with werewolves, all holding an incredible amount of blood lust.
The stunned silence permeated the area, and no one moved, all of them taken by surprise at the turn of events.
“It’s an attack,” Robert shouted abruptly
The frozen air fractured, and immediately, the site of the Ceilidh was filled with screams and shouts as the guardsmen of every pack rushed forward to fight, just as the women and children ran to hide. Chaos filled the clearing, and Eliza could barely overcome the shock.
“Malcolm,” Eliza yelled in alarm when something slammed into her back. She looked over her shoulder just in time to see Jamie slide down as blood spurted from his chest.
Her eyes widened when she met the cruel gaze of Kirkle’s.
“Hello, bitch.” Kirkle lunged for her his lips pulled back in a snarl.
Eliza spun away creating a wobbly shield to block his attack. Placing her free hand on Jamie’s shoulder she used her magic to transport them. Together they reappeared in the center of the ring. Staggering, Eliza fell against Jamie when his limp body hit the ground.
Taking a deep breath, she pressed her fingers to her throat and let out a relieved shudder when she felt his pulse beating strong against her finger.
Checking the wound, she could see his throat had already started healing.
“Eliza.”
She whipped around to see Malcolm running towards her. Her eyes widened as she spotted a dark space opening up behind him. Ribbons of her magic wrapped around her, and in a flash she reappeared behind him raising a shield between him and his would-be attacker. The tip of the staff penetrated the center of the black circle before it stopped short abruptly.
Dully she stared down where the staff had pierced her stomach, slowly she glanced up at the man who was standing in front of Beliel.
Thick brows quirked up in surprise on the cold face of the newly arrived stranger. Rather than look displeased that Eliza had stopped his attack, instead he muttered, “Phen’s not going to be happy.”
She coughed; blood splattered her front as her hands started to tremble.
“Eliza,” Malcolm shouted, running to her side.
Seeing him getting closer, Eliza shouted, “Don’t!”
She focused her sharp gaze on the Warlock in front of her. “Who are you?”
Not answering her, he glanced down at Beliel. “You failed, he said.”
Beliel shook his head. “No, I didn’t.” He pointed towards her. “I said I would find her, and there she is.”
The noise of the battle going around them didn’t break the tension in the air. The unnamed Warlock looked around, and saw that Kirkle’s forces of rogue wolf kind weren’t going to win. “We should leave for now.”
The warlock looked away from the heavily breathing Beliel to Eliza, where the staff pierced her stomach. With a casual wave he summoned it back. “I’ll be needing that back.”
Unseen hands yanked the staff from her stomach, Eliza cried out as she fell to her knees.
“Eliza.” Malcolm reached her side and stared in mute shock at her stomach where she pressed her hand.
“I-I’m all right,” she tried to say as her hand shook. The pain quickly distorted her attempt to smile.
“You’re not all right.” Malcolm's eyes were black, his voice gravelly as he stood. His tail and ears changed to that of his wolf counterpart.
“ You ,” he said to the warlock, “will pay for that.”
The warlock’s dead expression changed into euphoric anticipation as he smiled. From between his lips, he drooled black ink. “A mongrel wants to fight me.” His voice turned high-pitched and manic.
“Come, wolfy. Fight me," he loudly demanded. “I?—”
“No,” Eliza screamed, grabbing onto Malcolm’s ankle. Causing her bloody wound to send a piercing signal up her back. “You can’t. You can’t.”
Malcolm was caught between taking care of his wounded mate and fighting the man who’d hurt her. He gritted his teeth, averting his eyes. He bent down and picked her up gently but he kept his eyes on the Warlock and Beliel.
“Keep your heads for me, so I can take them later,” he said, tightening his hold on Eliza.
“Don’t worry, pup,” Beliel said as he stood up, a demented grin taking over his face. “I will be back, and I’ll be taking the heads of the other McLarens when I return.”
After he said those ominous words they were swallowed up by a flash of blue light and disappeared.
Malcolm glared at the spot they’d been. The need to kill them rode him hard. Picking up Eliza, he hurriedly made his way toward the campsite. He barely paid attention to the fallen bodies of those who’d attacked. Stopping only long enough to look at the dead Kirkle, and spit on his body.
Finished venting some of his anger, he continued on his way,
“Malcolm?” He looked down to meet Eliza’s pained gaze. “I’m okay.” She reached up with her blood-covered hand and pressed her hand against his cheek. “I’ll be okay.”
He gritted his teeth; she was trying to care for him even as she was the one bleeding out.
“So, please, don’t make that painful face,” she barely spoke above a whisper.
Malcolm withheld the scream that burned in his stomach. The woman he loved had been harmed right in front of him. It was killing him inside, inhaling deeply. He promised himself that once Eliza was healed, he’d hunt down the ones who’d done this and murder them in the most gruesome fashion, one by one.