Wregen #2
“Yes, that’s what we’ll do,” I promise the terrified elf as I release his throat, a grin splitting my cheeks when he falls to the rock below. “Stand and give me your back,” I command, Wrath’s excitement warbling in my words.
Svend sighs from deep in his gut, but he doesn’t hesitate.
The idiot thinks he’s getting away with a few swipes of my whip. I’m almost giddy thinking about his face when he realizes what I plan to do to him today. And that he’ll take his last breath in this cave.
“What the fuck are you doing, Wregen?” Finaan demands, grabbing my arm to spin me toward her. I let her move my body—this time—because she’ll be pissed, and I’ll enjoy that nearly as much as Svend’s sacrifice.
“I’m going to punish him,” I explain with a shrug. “He knows the price of failure.”
“It’s okay, Finaan,” Svend whimpers as he starts to lift the hem of his shirt. “I don’t mind.”
“Leave the shirt,” I bark out as he tries to expose his pasty flesh to me. More importantly, I stop him before my mate rests eyes on another male’s naked chest, even this worthless piece of shit. If I weren’t already planning to kill him, I’d need to end his life just for that.
“Stop it, Wregen,” Finaan growls from beside me. “He made a mistake. Let him be.”
“The fuck I will,” I yell. “I brought him to serve you and he’s failed at the most basic part. You must be fed. And if your meals won’t come from the pack he should have carried, they’ll come from his flesh.”
She scoffs, eyes blasting open so wide, I nearly laugh. Taking two steps backward, she lifts her hands, like she hopes to ward me off. “You think I’m going to eat him?” she whispers, her lips curling as she forces a swallow down her throat. “You plan to kill him for food?”
“I’ll kill him because I crave his death,” I declare, reminding her who she’s mated to. “I’ve suffered his presence too long. My beast will be sated for days with the blood I’ll draw from that little weasel. When I’ve taken all I need from him, his body will sustain us on our road back to Helheim.”
“What in all the worlds are you?” she chokes out. “You can’t kill him.” Now she straightens, throwing her shoulders back. She sets her jaw and takes a step forward, holding my gaze the entire time. “I forbid it. And I’m sure as fuck not eating him.”
“His flesh will be better than anything else we might find in these caves,” I tell her, my voice low. “You will not like your meals if Svend’s puny ass isn’t on your plate.”
“Then I won’t eat,” she screams, poking a finger into my chest. “And you won’t either, because we aren’t hurting Svend. Not today. Not ever.”
“He belongs to me,” I snarl, as I turn to look at the trouble-maker. Instead of him cowering as he awaits my pleasure, though, I find only empty rock. “Where the fuck did he go?”
“Probably away from your psychotic rambling,” she responds with a laugh. “You want to kill him. Of course he ran away.”
“Fuck. Me.” Spinning, I scour the cavern for the weasel.
Wrath howls inside me, snarling and tearing at my gut as his need for Svend’s death drives him into a frenzy, but I can’t have him fucking with me too.
So I pause, shifting my neck from side to side as I force my clenched hands to relax.
Gathering every bit of strength I can muster, I shove Wrath into his hole, shuddering as he fights back.
I’m stronger than him, though. Hel’s power whispers to me here, and even my formidable beast can’t stand against her.
And then I turn to glare at Finaan. “Keep up, or it’ll be you I’m punishing. And not with death. Your punishment will be more elaborate. It will last much, much longer. And it’ll involve different body parts and fluids.”
She twists one side of her mouth, baring teeth at me, but I grin.
I hope she runs away. She knows I’m connected to her, that I followed her to that camp the rebels established.
She must realize I spoke true, and our link also led me to her in the caves.
But my reckless mate is going to test me many times before she finally gives in.
I scan the ground for any hint of his footsteps, my smile broadening when I see his path.
And I start running. For a moment, I think Finaan is going to try to escape again, but she must realize how foolish that would be.
I’ve barely gone a dragon’s-length when I hear the steady pounding of her feet behind me.
Within a few minutes, the light from the cavern disappears, leaving us to run blind. I call Wrath up again, letting him guide us, because my beast thrives in the dark. We should be finding Svend—he has nothing to guide him—but the tunnel in front of us is silent, empty.
And I don’t like it. When we’ve gone a viku or more, I draw to a halt and click to Finaan, making sure she knows where I’ve stopped.
Her steps slow and pause a man’s-height away and I smile to myself at her endurance.
Her breathing is strong and steady. Pulling Wrath even more into my consciousness, I let him have all of our senses.
He recognizes the threat a moment too late.
Finaan’s scream pierces the cave around us, bouncing off the walls to pound in my ears, a declaration of my failure to protect my mate.
So I give myself fully to Wrath. One moment, I’m a man enraged at whatever dared to attack her.
The next, my body is stretching impossibly long, scales erupting across the hide that used to be skin, leathered wings stretching from our back.
And I’m shoved into the place he stores me when he takes control.
It’s been a long fucking time—centuries of existing in Helheim, our mistress keeping him trapped the entire time—but it feels so familiar and right. I shudder out a sigh and yield control to my beast.
Some might call him a dragon, but he’s nothing like the feathered beasts that dominate the open skies. His scales are as black as the caves around us, and he doesn’t crave connection. He craves chaos.
Seven creatures surround us, Jotunheimr having spewed out the males who are threatening our mate. They’re enormous—the jotnar, or giants, that humans dread—and each carries a sword or spear that would take our blood if Wrath let them.
He won’t.
A dragon might be afraid. But Wrath isn’t a dragon. He doesn’t fear.
He turns toward the male holding our mate, a shiver rippling down his spine when he sees her wide eyes and open mouth.
She’s alive. But then Wrath’s gaze focuses on the blood that cakes her chest, and crimson erupts in his vision.
The fire these males sparked when they attacked her explodes, setting every part of us aflame.
In one stride, Wrath is standing in front of him, his breath coating the jotunn’s skin in embers. This risks our mate, though. The bastard holds her as if his threat might salvage his life. But he’s dead already. He just hasn’t yet suffered everything Wrath will do to him for attacking her.
One of the other males finds his courage and stalks forward, driving his puny little knife into Wrath’s side.
My beast spins his head and shoots a single flame at the fool, incinerating him before he can take another breath.
Ashes fall where he stood, and a ripple of pleasure rolls through Wrath as the others’ fear pounds out.
It bounces off the rock, filling the space around us.
Wrath will eat well today. Their emotions will sustain his soul, and their bodies will fill his gut.
Looking back at the male who still holds Finaan in his filthy hands, Wrath savors the trembles that run up and down his body, his quivering fingers barely strong enough to grasp her.