Ryatt
I’m not surprised by the warm welcome we receive. I’m also not surprised by the lush apartment Ella, Granger, and I are led into after a long walk in the unfiltered, sand-filled heat.
The luxury of this place–Oasia–doesn’t shock me, nor Granger. No, we don’t expect anything less from Jaxon. He’s always liked the finer things, and finally, after groveling in the trenches his entire life, he has the means to make his wildest dreams come true.
The village of Oasia is a sprawling network of white stone that spreads out for over a mile, all of the buildings interconnected by tunnels built beneath the sand. At its center sits an oasis, hence the name, the only true source of water for miles.
This spring is where he gets his power. He controls the water in Tarsian, so he is king.
This is an empire I’m almost envious of. The sheer wealth of this territory–the mines, the gems, the stones–would be enough to completely rebuild the Roguelands and allow my people to live in opulence.
But this isn’t enough for Jaxon.
The Jaxon I knew so long ago has never been satisfied a day in his life.
And now the man is seated before me, nothing but a low coffee table between us.
He swishes clear liquor in a crystal glass on his knee, his blue eyes locked on mine.
“You grew into your looks,” he says in a low voice that betrays his youthful, almost god-like beauty. “You must have the Goddess to thank for that.”
“I’m not here to be showered in your compliments,” I say, leaning back against the turquoise cushions of a chaise lounge. A soft, dry breeze filters through creamy white curtains overlooking the oasis, palm trees dancing just outside the windows.
“Why thrust your mate at me like that?” he asks, slowly bringing his drink to his lips. His cool smile wraps around the rim of the glass. “It’s not like I don’t know what you look like in your wolf form.” He sips from his drink.
I haven’t touched mine.
“I knew you wouldn’t harm her.”
He raises his brows.
“Because you know I’ve been snooping around, don’t you? I was wondering why those spies I sent into the Roguelands never came back.”
“I assure you, they’re happy and healthy and their inability to return to you had nothing to do with my ill treatment and everything to do with yours.”
He finally lets that mask of cool indifference slip just enough that I can see the fiery rage behind his eyes.
“What are you doing, Jaxon? Are you really threatening me?”
“You of all people know how this works, Ryatt.” He sets down his glass and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Our kind? They don’t care about lineage. Your knuckle-dragging packs in the Roguelands might believe in titles being passed down from father to son, but we don’t do that here. I am what I am because I took what I wanted, and I want the throne you were never entitled to in the first place.”
“You’re still the same prick I remember.”
He smiles cruelly. “I’ve never had a reason to change.”
“The packs that border Rifthold on this side of the Great River think differently. There’s been reports of violence. You’ve killed at least two Alphas who refused to bend the knee to you and your crusade.”
“Is that what you were told?” Amusement flares behind his eyes. “Do you not know what it was like here during the war with that kingdom beyond the veil? Don’t think I don’t know who that woman you brought here is, Ryatt. She’s from that place. She was the one Kane was after, isn’t she?”
“She is my mate.”
“Well, she’s safe here as long as you don’t give me a reason to–”
“I’d be more worried about your safety.”
“Oh? My safety? What are you going to do, rip my throat out for looking in her direction?”
I smile because I can’t help it. “She would do far worse on her own. Admittedly, I’m a little afraid of her.”
He arches a blond brow. “She is Firestone, then. The rumors are true.”
I shrug. “She is of that line, yes. She is the true Queen of Eastonia, regardless of what either of us think of it.”
“Well, that certainly puts a damper on my plans.”
“Your plans are what, exactly? Crusade through this territory and then cross the river into my lands with your meager forces?”
“Those who control Rifthold control Eastonia.”
“When Kane was king, yes. Not anymore.”
“Yes, well. I have a job to do, and that requires expanding into Rifthold.”
“It’s not happening.”
“I’m not asking your permission. I don’t need it. I don’t see you sending forces to claim–”
“You forget who I am–”
“The bastard born son of a witch, dumped in the coven at five, and who grew up being doted on by those witches and mystics? You had no home, just like me. You had no pack who claimed you. No one wanted you, no one but that fucking Shadowsynger–”
“Commander Westfall is my father.”
Well, that changes things. Jaxon’s eyes momentarily grow wide, but then narrow. “That explains a lot.”
“It also should make it clear that I’m not after the throne because I believe I’m entitled to it, like you think. I am here because my wife will sit on that throne. You know better than to fuck with me, Jaxon. You don’t know Ella yet. Her looks and her… outwardly sweet-seeming temperament can be deceiving. She is a goddess reborn, and you and your packs don’t stand a fucking chance if you cross her. I am the least of your worries.”
Jaxon stares at me for several silent seconds.
“You know how this must be done. You came directly here, so you’re expecting what I’m about to say next, aren’t you?”
Fucking Tarsians and their archaic ways. This section–these territories past the border of Rifthold and the Roguelands–don’t have an official name. Kane wanted it that way. It was only Eastonia and us. The Roguelands held the enemies of his crown.
He kept packs like the one Jaxon belonged to under his thumb, enslaving his people, sending the young men to Rifthold to be tortured until they were docile enough to have those collars placed around their necks and forced to fight.
I can’t stomach the thought of what he did to the women.
Before he can say anything else, I cut him off with a wave of my hand.
“I don’t blame you,” I tell him, inhaling sharply. “I’m just as angry about the treatment of my own people–”
“Your people did not have to go to war,” he growls.
“My people volunteered. You could have fought Kane, raised an army like you’re doing now.”
“You could have come to our aid while you played house as his favorite little pet.” Raw emotion shines behind his eyes for the first time.
I feel a twisting in my gut. “I am not responsible for what happened to Shahar and Esme.”
“How dareyou say their names,” he says in a softer tone that pains me to hear.
I swallow hard against the lump forming in my throat. This is dangerous territory. Jaxon, who grew up in Moonrise, left the Roguelands as a spy. He never returned. Seven years older than myself with no family and no pack to call home, he ended up staying in Tarsian, finding his fated mate against all odds, and had a daughter.
Esme was three when the war between Crescent Falls and Eastonia broke out.
I only know this because word of Jaxon’s rage when they were taken is now legend, and his acts that followed the rumors of their deaths are the kind of stories told in inns and around warming fires.
This man before me is no normal Alpha. Not when his heart has been ripped from his chest, and the hole left behind has been filled with nothing but hatred.
“It’s not confirmed that they’re dead,” I say with force. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You believe your crawl into the Roguelands, your seat at the head of mytable, will give you what you need to find them, don’t you? You could have just asked me–”
“Unlike you, I’ve had to fight for everything I’ve ever had. And if you want to challenge me for the throne that neither of us are entitled to, that’s exactly what we’re going to do. In the ring. But–” He rolls his neck and fixes me with an icy glare. “It won’t be you on the throne, will it? Your precious wife wants it.”
“I want it for her.”
“Then she can fight me for it. Tomorrow morning. No powers, no shifting.” Each syllable is clipped. “Although I assume you have some concerns about that given her condition.”
I grit my teeth and scowl at him. This fight–this is how it’s traditionally done. I’ve been challenged before by lesser wolves who want my titles, but this is different.
Jaxon is different. He’s been trained to fight from the moment he could walk. To be sly and cunning. To be lethal.
“I will fight in her stead.”
He rolls his eyes. “Then it’s not fair to me to fight on my own. I’ll choose a proxy.”
Great, knowing Jaxon he’ll find the biggest, ugliest son-of-a-bitch with a taste for blood to step into the ring with me.
“Fine.”
“Winner becomes king,” he says dramatically, laughing.
“I have a more diplomatic solution,” I tell him, but he raises a hand.
Two warriors who have been guarding the door come forward and try to grab me by the shoulders, but I yank myself out of their grasp.
“Listen to me, Jaxon. There is no reason for us to be enemies. You can keep your territory. You can be the Alpha King of Tarsian. But Ella will be Queen–”
“No reason for us to be enemies?” he laughs, ice in his voice. “The blood of my mate and my child is still wet on your filthy hands. You will always be my enemy, and I will relish watching your mate witness you getting picked apart piece by piece tomorrow morning.”
My growl pierces the space between us.
I leave his tidy office, or whatever this room is, followed closely by his warriors until I reach the suite we’ve been housed in. I slam the door shut behind me knowing full well that the warriors are stationed outside.
Granger and Ella turn from a huge window overlooking the oasis at the same time, both of their faces bleak.
“What happened?” Ella says in a hushed voice.
I ignore the concern in her voice and look her over, sighing a breath of relief when I see the peachy color of her skin and ruddy cheeks.
I need to be sharp while we’re in enemy territory, and especially tomorrow, but all I can think about is that curse lingering under her skin.
I turn to Granger and nod. “Tomorrow morning.”
Granger curses under his breath. He knows what’s coming.
But Ella is totally in the dark as she looks at each of us. “What’s happening tomorrow morning?”
“A fight to the death,” Granger growls and stalks off, closing himself into one of the bedrooms.
Ella turns to me with a concerned expression lighting behind her eyes. “Ryatt… what?”
“It won’t take long, Princess.” With that, I run my fingers through my hair and mentally start preparing myself to not fucking die tomorrow.