Evander
I’m not sure what I expected Kenna’s wolf to look like. I hadn't expected this, however.
Her night-black fur shines in the faint light cast from the windows where magic is whizzing through the air as a battle ensues outside. Her fur is so dark that it sucks the light from the room and turns it to diamond dust that falls from her as she moves toward me, her silver eyes blazing with mingled worry and surprise.
She’s small–smaller than the average wolf, for sure. The top of her head barely reaches my shoulder as she brushes against me.
I feel her power the second she touches me.
Unmatched strength. Ungodly powers I’m sure even she doesn’t comprehend. She is a hybrid of several forces combined into one tiny wolf, and I have no idea what to do with her now.
I have it in mind to find the nearest closet and lock her in it, preventing her from putting herself in danger, but we need to find her father.
Sydney returns from surveying the castle for more threats, his golden wolf an incredible contrast to Kenna’s night-black. He meets my eyes in the darkness and says into my mind, ‘Well, it’s about fucking time.’
Kenna whips her head around, her ears flattening and teeth bared.
‘We can mind-link now,’ Sydney continues, speaking to both of us. He meets my eyes again and I swear, beyond the lupine glaze in his eyes, I can see him smirking as if in his human form. ‘You marked her, huh? Welcome to the family.’
‘We don’t have time for this. Where is my dad?’ Kenna’s voice is a growl through my mind.
Without further conversation, Sydney turns and leads us out of the castle, which is a tangle of shattered glass and the occasional body.
‘Wait,’ Kenna says in a strained voice as she passes the body of a young maid, but Sydney and I flank Kenna and prevent her from turning around. ‘Please!’
‘She’s gone, Kenna,’ Sydney says, his voice breaking between the words.
My heart wrenches as I feel Kenna’s despair flow through our bond.
But people start funneling into the castle foyer in a ripple of noise and sudden chaos, and the three of us stop short of the entrance.
Warriors carry their wounded. Families rush in with injured loved ones and unharmed children. I step in front of Kenna as the crowd hurries inside, the air filling with the sounds of agony and desperation.
When I look at my mate, her eyes are wide and set with determination.
She’s not coming with us to find Alpha King Ryatt. She has to stay here and use her gifts to heal her people.
‘Go. Go shift and change. I’ll bring your father here,’ I tell her. She turns and hurries back up the stairs behind us, disappearing in a flash of onyx.
Sydney and I dart out into the war-torn city under the shimmer of the broken wards. The fighting has lessened, but there’s still magic in the air as we race through the city center to the more sprawling, rolling neighborhoods that hug the forest beyond.
Warriors are thick in this area. Wolves canvass the streets, and their human companions carry wounded and help families out of their destroyed homes.
‘Where is he?’ I ask Sydney as we leave the city proper and cut into the trees. Silence chokes the air. Even the birds stay as quiet as possible.
My answer comes only moments later when we reach an active battle.
The rebels are trying to retreat, but the Moonrise warriors are on a warpath spearheaded by Alpha Ryatt and my father in their human forms.
It’s madness. I can’t tell who’s friend or foe in the chaos. The dense forest makes navigating the rocky, hilly terrain impossible as I weave between trees and follow Sydney to the front line where our allied warriors push the rebels back, trying to herd them away from Moonrise.
It’s working.
I’m barreled into from the side and knocked down, my head smacking against a rock. Teeth lock around my neck and thrash, but I stand, shaking off the attacking wolf before lunging on him and taking him to the ground.
It goes on like this for some time. My body is in shambles–my fur clotted with blood–by the time I finally fight my way through the fray and reach my father’s side.
He’s bloody and beaten but whole.
‘Dad!’ I shout, but right as he turns to me, another wolf bounds out of the darkness.
This wolf is different. Large, lumbering, and missing most of his fur. His eyes burn red as he opens his massive jaw and tears into my dad.
I act on instinct, digging deep for all the strength I have left, and leap toward him, catching the back of his neck in my jaws. I pull him off my dad and throw him to the ground. Sydney rushes to my side, and together, we take him apart while he thrashes.
But out of the corner of my eye, I see Ryatt rushing toward us in his human form, his shadowsword drawn and raised.
A whisper of darkness surrounds me for a split second before whatever figure was coming up on me dissolves into nothing and reappears behind Ryatt.
‘WATCH OUT!’ I scream down the mind-link to Ryatt, but it’s too late. A flash of magic so dark it consumes what little moonlight there is to be had tears through Ryatt, curling around him and strangling him right before my eyes.
Dad pulls himself up, swaying on his feet, and runs to Ryatt.
Gabriel meets my eyes from his position behind Ryatt before he disappears in a cloud of smoke and ash, and the forest falls silent.
The enemy warriors disappear as if they’d never been there. Even their bodies turn to mist, leaving nothing but trails of blood behind.
But my focus is on Ryatt as he falls to his knees. Dad catches him before he falls over face down in the bloody dirt.
“My wife!” Ryatt roars, his voice guttering with blood and absolute despair. “He has my wife!”
“Look at me, Ryatt. We need to get you to the castle!” Dad says, clasping his friend’s face between his hands. “Where–where are you hurt? How?”
The king closes his eyes and doesn’t open them again.
* * *
I don’t understand any of it. Gabriel’s powers are immense. Even if he was born of a witch, he shouldn’t be this powerful.
Questions blur my mind until the early hours of morning. Rain pounds every quiet street. If there is a sun today, it’s hidden behind thick, unending clouds the color of steel.
The rain washes the blood from the streets as I walk in my human form, stopping to peer into shops, to check on the families starting to come out of their ruined homes.
After the battle, Sydney and my dad took Ryatt back to the castle to be healed, if that’s possible. In a sick, twisted way, I feel fortunate that Dad is distracted by Ryatt right now so he isn’t dwelling on the fact that my mother–his mate–is also missing alongside the queen.
Queen Ella wouldn’t let anything happen to my mom, and that’s the only shred of hope I have as I walk into the castle after hours of canvassing the city for survivors and wounded in need of help.
It’s quieter inside than I expected. Maids sweep the shattered glass from the foyer. Voices drift from every room, and I follow the sound to the formal ballroom toward the back of the castle. It’s the largest area inside the massive dwelling, and right now, it’s full of people spread out with blankets and what meager belongings they could gather before leaving their homes.
A group of women walks around pushing carts laden with food and drinks. Others are passing out more blankets and bedrolls.
I have no idea where my mate is, or where my father is, but none of these people are especially hurt, so the injured aren’t being kept here.
I keep moving, passing through the ballroom into the west wing of the castle. The long hallway is alight with activity as I cut around a corner, noticing every door to every sitting room and office in this section of the castle is open.
Healers move from room to room in an unhurried fashion carrying baskets of herbs and potions. The smell of healing tonics hangs thick in the air as I pick my way down the hallway, pausing to look in each room.
A tall, red-headed woman steps out of one room and notices me, her shoulders slumping in relief. I recognize her as Avery, one of Kenna’s local friends and fellow witch.
“Where is she?” I ask.
“She’s down the hall. She needs to rest. I’ve been telling her to go upstairs and get some sleep.”
“I’ll handle it,” I tell her as I brush past and continue at a steady pace, stepping past countless healers and common folk walking between the rooms to check on friends and family.
I find her slumped on a stool in a sitting room at the very end of the hall. Three older children are fast asleep in a nest of blankets and pillows on the ground surrounding what I assume is their mother, who is healing from what looks like burns. My gaze sweeps over the sleeping children and my heart shudders when I notice the bandages covering their arms and legs.
A rage I’ve never known before boils to life.
Gabriel will pay for this. I will find him.
Kenna holds a bundle in her arms as I approach her and lean down to gently wake her up. The newborn baby in her grasp stirs, a soft whine cutting through the air. Kenna wakes to the sound and jerks when she sees me, but her face flushes with relief.
“You need to sleep,” I whisper.
She adjusts the baby–who is still so pink that I wonder if it’s just been born–in her arms and shakes her head. I notice the tears then. Streams of silver that have dried on her skin.
“Where is this child’s mother?”
“Dead,” Kenna whispers. Her hollow gaze settles on the baby. “I didn’t get to her in time. She was in labor when the attack began, and we can’t find her husband so–so I’ve been taking care of the baby while healing–”
“Kenna, this is too much. You need to let the other healers help.”
She starts to shake her head, but another healer walks in. “Princess Kenna, he’s right. You’ve been at it all night. Please, go rest. Things are settled.”
“How is my father?” she asks with effort.
I turn to the healer, catching her eyes. She catches the silent plea behind my gaze and purses her lips before saying, “He’s going to be fine. Your tears healed the worst of the injuries. Everyone is sleeping now. He is sleeping, I assure you.”
It might not be the whole truth, but it’s enough for Kenna to rise with the baby in her arms.
The healer steps forward, but Kenna is reluctant to hand the child to her. I place my hand on her lower back. “Kenna, I passed several families with infants. There are mothers out there that are able to nurse this baby. That’s what the baby needs right now. There’s nothing more you can do.”
Kenna swallows against a sob as she nods and gently lays the infant in the healer’s arms.
I realize how Kenna is feeling when we walk out into the hallway. She leans against me for support, and I scoop her into my arms and carry her through the castle, past the ruins of the foyer and the once towering stained glass windows.
Her room is untouched and warm as I close the door behind me with my foot. I lay her down in bed, taking off her shoes and socks. She’s wearing a simple pair of cotton pants and a loose shirt, probably something she grabbed in her haste to redress and tend to the wounded.
But as I pull the covers over her exhausted body, she reaches up and grabs my shirt. “Will you stay with me?”
She looks so tired and broken. I wouldn’t think about leaving her, but…
“I’ll stay. I’ll sit in the chair by the window. I won’t leave the room.”
“Just lie with me, please.”
“Kenna,” I say hoarsely, clearing my throat. “I can’t be in the same bed with you right now.”
“Why not?” She looks up at me so innocently.
“Because I’ve just claimed you as my mate and I’m… not sure I can control myself, regardless of the circumstances.” In fact, I’ve spent the last several hours trying not to go scorched-earth on everyone around me because I’d been separated from my mate only moments after marking her.
Everyone who told me men go absolutely feral after marking their mates were correct. Feeling her soft, warm weight in my arms as I carried her upstairs was enough for my cock to go rigid against the stiff fabric of my pants, and I am absolutely aching to be inside of her.
And there’re hundreds of people downstairs–displaced, homeless, and injured.
“Please?” she whispers, and it’s my undoing.
I take off my shirt and pants, sliding in beside her in nothing but a pair of boxers and hold her against my chest.
Her fingers drift over my bare chest, tracing the lines of my muscles. Each touch sends a flurry of sensation dancing up and down my spine and ignites that need to claim her all over again.
“I want to mark you,” she whispers, and I close my eyes against the urge to roll over and pin her to the bed.
“We have plenty of time for that later. You need to sleep now.”
“I can’t sleep,” she says softly, her fingertips drifting lower, brushing over the waistband of my boxers.
Fuck it all.
I rise up on my elbow and look down at her, taking in how the stormy, gray morning light drifts over the soft planes of her face. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
And she’s mine.
I lower my lips to hers. “Where do you want to put your mark on my skin?”