Chapter 21
Max
Stepping close, Kaden grabs my arm as I start to sway. “You need to be looked at.”
Peering up at him, I try to fight the double vision. He thinks I’m powerful—he’s not afraid of me.
He stayed and fought with me, pushing me to fight back.
Why?
“Taylay is back at camp,” I say, gesturing to the opening. “He can heal me.”
Taking one step, I fall into the mud, much to the heir’s annoyance.
“And you can’t walk.” He picks up up, swinging me into his arms. “Are all blood summoners this clumsy? Or is it just you?”
Glaring, my head droops, cocooned into the crook of his neck as I inhale his deeply pleasurable scent. “I haven’t met other blood summoners. So let’s just say that it’s a me thing.”
He shifts me, stepping over the fallen corpses and the kicked up branches. “And your magic. This tiredness.” He looks down into my face and jerks his chin. “Bleeding tears. Does that happen when you use it?”
Shrugging, I curl my hands around his neck. I don’t need the support but something wants to touch him. I want to touch him.
“I don’t use it often. But when I do, yes. It does.”
“Hm,” he makes a noncommittal sound. “And you’ve never been taught how to wield it?”
I snort. “The Coven isn’t exactly open to me or my magic. Nessa tried but…” I trail off, body relaxing in his warmth. He’s a glowing ember and my cold, stiff body, seems to seek it. It almost soothes the aches the closer I am.
My body tenses as I realize who he is. What he is.
Sliding off my hands, he smirks, halting their descent. “Hold on to me, little kitten. You don’t want me to drop you, do you?”
“I find it hard to believe you would drop me.”
His hands loosen, and I grip tight as he chuckles. Prick. “Anything can happen in these woods, Max. Best to learn it now.”
Tiredly, my magic seethes at being restrained as I tighten my control. My eyes flutter, sleep trying to claim me when another scream echoes into the forest, alerting us both to another battle.
“The volunteers?” I guess, looking up. Kaden’s brows furrow and he tilts his head, point ears turned to listen better.
“More Skrull, back at camp.” He shifts me again, protectively curling around me as I press against to his chest. His heart beats in tune to mine and I itch to trace it through the shirt. “Hold tight. I’ll need to move quickly to get back and help my siblings.”
I do as he commands and he runs back through the path, quicker than even I.
That’s when the scent of blood slaps me in the face.
The camp is saturated, three more Skrull in the clearing. One is feasting on a man, his head ripped from the open cavity of his torso, as blood soaks the ground floor. Two more are circling the group of volunteers like ours did by the creek.
The group is small, smaller than this morning. There are corpses everywhere, tents destroyed or covered red. We’ve been gone such a short time and yet three Skrull decimated the volunteers.
“Where are your guards?” I ask, turning my head, seeking the Dark Fae. I see neither and I don’t see Taylay.
My heart constricts. Please don’t let him be one of the bodies.
“Waiting,” he murmurs, lowering me to a fallen stump by a few mangled tents. Placing fingers to his lips, he whispers, “Be quiet.”
The Skrull closest to us stops, snout pressed into the air. A mixture between a panther and a wolf, it howls as if to alert the others to something being here.
“They sense you,” Kaden explains.
“What are your forces waiting for?” My eyes rise, trying to find a peck of silver in the shadows. “Shouldn’t they be down there, fighting?”
Amber eyes gaze at me, cool and emotionless. My mouth parts, fury rising in my gut as my magic swirls. “You’re letting the volunteers take the brunt of the attack.”
“My guards know to wait for my command.” He shrugs. “You can’t think I’ll risk my people for the Humans. They would do the same to mine.”
I hate how much I agree with him. Humans would let others die first.
“They’re innocents,” I argue. “Your men could dispatch them easily.”
“So could you,” he says, glancing to me. “If you had better control.”
“Fuck you,” I curse. “Stop hiding and do something. Or aren’t you supposed to be some important warrior in your land?”
He chuckles. “Kitten, I’m the only warrior strong enough to fight these beasts.” At my frown, he rolls his eyes. “Fine. To appease your sensibilities, I’ll interfere. On one condition.”
“And that is?”
“You stay here,” he says, pointing. The Skrull purrs, a loud noise that hums along my nerves. “Those beasts know you’re here and they would love nothing more than to kill you. I don’t have to remind you of how weak, drained and injured you are.”
My shoulder throbs at the reminder, blood dripping down my forearm.
“But Taylay—”
“No,” he cuts off, eyes hard. “You stay here. Don’t worry about the Witch. Your survival is more important.”
Another growl, this one closer and my body freezes.
“I need to help,” I whisper.
“You need to live.” He pulls out his sword, softly as to not alert the prowling Skrull of his location. “If you die, who will save your precious Witch?”
Pushing from the log, he slinks behind me, body blending into the shadows. What I wouldn’t give to be able to use my magic like that.
Looking back into the clearing, the two Skrull pause in their attack, the third, coming behind them. Out of the shadows, the Dark Fae emerge, Kaden at the front, his siblings to his side. They look formidable, swords gleaming, faces severe.
Now, I’m no longer the bigger threat. They spilt up, each Skrull taking a sibling while the guards see to the volunteers. My fingers grip the bark, as I watch transfixed.
Viciously striking the Skrull, Fee hits with a brutality I’ve only seen in men. Her eyes burn with fury as a few guards distract the beast and she rams her sword into its side. Not a drop of blood gets on her, she moves too quick, too lethal, as the beast slows and she continues to attack.
Reid grins as he fights, dancing around the second beast. Quicker than his sister, he glides along as if on ice, rapid slices hitting vital spots as the Skrull misses attack after attack. He darts in, cuts and darts away before a hit. It’s entertainment, meant to enthrall.
But his brother, the heir, is different. He hits with brute force, mind calculating the best spots to slice before doing so. It’s ruthless, quick, a confident warrior with a sword that dries my throat.
And this is the male who defended me—touched me in the creek. His hands, soft then, wield a weapon that cuts down a beast with such precision that I lean back, surprised as a gasp leaves my mouth.
It distracts him, pulls his attention my way as a massive paw swipes out along his midsection.
Blood sprays the muddy ground, forming a wide arc.
Hand to my mouth, I watch as his amber gaze meets mine, submerging black. Wrapping an arm around his wound, he twists his blade high into the air, a beautiful display of talent, before swinging it into the beast’s neck.
The head lops off, rolling across the clearing.
His siblings finish their marks, all Skrulls dropping into a puddle of their own blood. The only sounds are the volunteer’s heavy breathing.
Then, as a collective, a rush of joy erupts from the volunteers mouths, cheering for the beasts’ demise. I deflate, dropping against the log, body aching. Thank the Gods that’s over.
Glancing to the Dark Fae, they do not share the same relief. The heir locks eyes with me, fangs long, eyes black, body hunched. It’s primal, predatorily and I shudder, unease creeping along my nerves.
Why does he look like that? And why do his siblings flank him, swords ready as if another beast is to attack?
Dropping to my side, Taylay, grabs my shoulders and I yelp, pain spiking through the fog of apprehension. “Max! Shit,” he curses, peering at my shoulder. “You’re injured. What happened?”
Swallowing, I look back into the clearing, Dark Fae gone.
“Skrull attack in the clearing.” I wince as he pulls my shirt back. “One bit me. Their bites are—”
“Poisonous, I know,” he says, nodding. “I can heal you but it won’t be pleasant.”
“Is it ever?” I joke, bracing against the tree. “Are you injured?”
“No,” he answers, hands to my shoulder. The pressure causes a whimper to escape my lips. “You were at the creek. How did you get attacked?”
“There were two there.”
“Two?” His eyes grow wide. “And you survived?”
“It wasn’t just me,” I explain, body shifting as his magic stirs. It’s a cool touch, wrapping around the burning skin and throbbing pain. Wincing, breaths short, I say, “The heir was there too. He helped me. Fought with me.”
“With you?” He shakes his head, eyes confused. “That goes against everything we know about their kind.”
He’s not wrong. They’ve been known to leave weaker ones behind to escape. The heir let the beasts attack the volunteers if it meant his people were safe.
He only fought back when I pleaded with him.
The magic increases and my shoulder mends, flesh pulling together. I bite my lip to stop from screaming, the flare of pain almost too much to bear.
“Maybe we don’t know everything about them.”
The magic turns cold and I exhale, body slumping. Finally, the pain evaporates and only the familiar caress of Taylay’s power touches my skin.
“Maybe, he wants something.” He pulls back, hands bloody, but I’m mended. Mostly.
The wound is now a deep gash, oozing a trickle of blood. Tay looks to his hands, and sighs, exhausted. “Sorry, Max. I don’t have much energy left.”
Grabbing his hands, I nod. Unlike my magic, which seems to never stop, Tay’s magic has a limit. “It’s alright. I’ll wrap it. You should rest.” His sword at his hip is covered in red. “You fought?”
“It was either fight or die.” He chuckles humorlessly. “Did you?”
Licking my lips, I release him, and wait for him to understand.
I did fight, but with my magic and not my daggers.
As soon as I close my mouth, he tenses, face crestfallen. “You used your magic.”
“As you said, it was either fight or be killed.”
He wipes his brow, fingers trembling. “Max, you can’t use your magic. What if the heir saw?”
I have no response for that, so I shrug, arms listless.
My friend doesn’t care that I survived a horrible fight with a beast we had no way of preparing for, only that my magic—evil magic as his elders call it— was used.
No matter what I do, how I prove myself, he still fears my magic. He still fears me.
“I’m going to lay down,” he tells me, voice hard. He’s so angry. “Then I’ll get to healing the remaining volunteers. You should find bandages and stay out of their way.”
Because I bring nothing to the table, without Tay, I’m just a liability. When did he think so little of me?
Once he’s gone, I stand, walking the edge of the camp, keeping an eye on the forest. Behind me, the men make plans for better protections, the Dark Fae guards reminding them of patrols.
They didn’t have patrols set up? We are so horribly ill-prepared for this journey.
Back in my tent, I grab a spare shirt and shred it for linen and change out of my shirt. There’s an old shirt from Tay in there and the extra room won’t pull on the bandages, so I change, body heavy.
I’m exhausted, drained, a pounding headache forming in my temples but I can’t rest yet. I don’t want to.
The look on Tay’s face, his words, haunt me.
He doesn’t get me—doesn’t want to understand me, look outside his Coven’s prejudice. Instead, he’d rather I hide. Like I always have.
I don’t stay in the camp. It’s stupid to trek through the woods alone, but I follow the footpath back to the clearing we trained in. I can’t stay there, hearing heartbeats and feeling like I’m a mistake.
Instead, I search for the heir. A Fae who could kill me, I feel compelled to be near him over my friend. Of all the beings in this world, he understand the darker parts I try to hide and makes them seem… normal.
I’m not naive; Taylay could be right. Dark Fae are selfish—he could be doing this to get close to me, use my magic somehow. But that logic doesn’t seem to hit me.
Stumbling over roots, I walk into the woods, further away, enjoying the silence. I don’t follow a path, just my feet until I come to a small circled spot, the lush green trees overhead filled with white blossoms.
I look up, smiling, and promptly trip, slamming into the trunk of a thick tree, mended shoulder taking the brunt of the fall.
Yelping, I cradle my arm to my chest and bite my cheek to keep from crying. That hurts.
“You’d make a terrible hunter, pet,” the heir teases, standing in the middle of the clearing, arms crossed, smirk firmly in place.