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His heart beat out a song yearning for his mate. Arie. It roared her name and with every human he brought down, his heart sang to his mate. He turned his head and his eyes locked for but a moment with hers. He watched her lips part in shock before she suddenly fell to her knees, her small body wracked with visible sobs. He pushed forward to get to her, slaying any who stood in his path until his body knocked her back, his arms wrapped firmly around her. Her cries were sweet in his ear as he clung to her, holding his mate close to his heart where she belonged.
“Kyx, you are alive! You came back to me.”
Her head drew back, her eyes running over his scars, and she cried harder as her fingers traced them. He closed his eyes in bliss at her light touch. As her fingers trailed down the scar at his jaw, disappearing into his scruff, he captured her fingers and pressed a kiss against her palm before burrowing his face against her neck, the fuzz of her hair tickling his nose.
“I will never leave you again,” he whispered, his voice choked with his own pain and grief.
Chapter
Thirty-Nine
Arie wept, her heart cracking open. Everything that she’d been carrying within her suddenly broke free from her control and was shed with her tears. Kyx was a mess of scars, and it hurt her to look upon them and know what he’d suffered. She repeatedly pressed her lips against the torn flesh, praising the gods and the Mother herself that her triad was delivered to her whole.
She’d held bitter tears, locked and restrained within her heart when her grandmother led her down the stairs to the great ballroom. Her crimson gown had mocked her with every swish of silk. She had sneered at the material. The dress she wore was nothing but an affront to the gift she had already given her mates, a mockery of the Mother due to the farce of a forced joining. That feeling of resentment had only grown when her hand was placed on Edwar’s palm, and the priest began the prayers of joining.
There had been no joy or peace in the act. It was nothing short of a promise of violence upon herself.
Yet, when her mates had thrown open the ballroom doors and entered, dispersing death among the huntsman or any man who attempted to attack them, her heart had jumped with the first sense of happiness that she’d felt since her capture. It had taken no encouragement for her to throw down her flowers and cast away the wig in a clear rejection of everything that their society stood for. She had stood bared, with the red stubble of her hair visible to all as she raised her hands in welcome to the Ragoru. The guests and officials were not so happy to see them. Fear and chaos had fallen quickly upon them all, much to her delight.
The priest, in his haste, had even pushed her aside in his attempt to escape the conflict, only to be snagged into Warol’s jaws at her shout. She’d verbally condemned him as a cruel violator and had watched Warol’s eyes glow with anger seconds before he’d dispensed justice. As the priest bled out, she watched the blood pool dispassionately, all the while recalling the cruelty he had inflicted upon her. But even that sight could not hold her attention long when the entire podium shook as Rager collided with Edwar. They were as a force of primal violence coming together, Edwar’s sword against Rager’s claws and fangs as they battled across the stage that had been erected just that day.
The appearance of Kyx amid all of that had been a shock. At first, she’d thought she was imagining his presence until she took note of the network of scars over the side of his face and down his chest and belly. Shock and relief had consumed her instantaneously, and she’d come close to fainting. She’d managed to battle it back, but not before she sank to her knees. Then Kyx had been there with her, and they’d lost themselves in that moment. The screams of the elite as an unknown crowd surged had disappeared entirely.
All there was for her was Kyx at that moment in time.
Only when he pulled back and yanked her out of harm’s way as Rager and Edwar crashed through did she become aware once more of the world around them. Both males bled from the numerous wounds they’d inflicted upon each other, but Edwar was at the disadvantage and knew it. He was tiring far too quickly, and Rager circled him like a predator closing in on its kill. Edwar’s eyes flicked madly, looking for any escape or assistance. For a moment their eyes met, and a cruel smile sketched over her lips. Now he would know the same hopeless fear that she knew. He glanced away and his face paled as he saw the bodies of his men strewn over the ballroom, painting the floors and walls with their gruesome remains. Wild-eyed, he cast his sword aside and sank to his knees in supplication, his empty hands upraised.
“On the grace of the Mother, have mercy upon me!” he begged, his head bowing.
Rager paused, a look of uncertainty on his face. Arie joined Rager’s side, cognizant of the fact that Kyx and Warol gathered behind her. She touched her fingers to the blood-drenched black fur of his lower left arm. He turned his head and looked down on her, his right secondary eye never straying from his enemy.
“Yes, rya?”
She smiled up at him, stroking her hand through his fur, tracing a line from his jaw to his velvety ear, before allowing her face to harden. A hand stole over her belly as she spoke. “Show him not an ounce of mercy, as he would have shown it to me or our rog.”
Arie felt her males behind her press in closer against her, and Rager’s eyes widened with surprise and then softened with pleasure as his eyes took in her gesture. She took a deep breath and continued.
“He planned to rip our young from my belly but was only dissuaded by the efforts of the good doctor. Even then, Edwar had terrible plans for our offspring once it was born.” Her eyes fastened on the First Elite, and she smiled once more. “Since he sought to cut our young from us, we shall cut the evil from him.” She drew closer to Edwar, staring down at the man without blinking. “There was a story, once upon a time, of a girl in red who was consumed by the evil wolf. She was lost until a man of the woods cut her from the wolf’s belly to set her free. The Order is the wolf, and the Citadel is the girl, and now the males of the wood, the Ragoru, shall liberate her.”
With a flash of her red skirt, she stepped aside as Rager leaped forward, his upper hands pinning Edwar in place as the claws on his lower hands cut into his belly with the ease of a knife cutting into fat. Blood splashed up on Arie, but she did not step back or even give it notice. Edwar’s screams rapidly turned into gurgles, but Rager did not stop until the First Elite’s bowels lay on the floor beside him. Only then did he step away, his breath coming out in ragged pants. He ducked his head down as he drew up beside her, nuzzling her jaw. She brought a hand up and stroked the soft fur of his face. Warol and Kyx lowered their muzzles to nuzzle her, and they stood there, the four of them, giving each other comfort and honoring their reunion over the remains of their enemy.
Behind her she heard a delicate cough. “Well, this was a bit more… gruesome… than I expected.”
A broad smile broke over Arie’s face as she turned and nudged her mates aside to embrace her cousin. Maddi looked a bit dirty but unharmed.
“I was so worried about you,” Arie said, her arms tightening around the smaller woman as her cousin chuckled.
“The men refused to let me join the conflict, so there was little risk on my part. Though honestly trying to find the guild was scary enough until your mate, Kyx, found me outside the temple and brought me to Cyrus. I dare say, your mates did as much as they promised.”
“Pardon me, ladies,” Cyrus announced as he pushed toward the stage, his eyes twinkling with humor. With one hand, he hauled up their grandmother. Her black gown was ripped in several places, her face streaked with blood and dirt, and her hair had fallen from her bun, leaving little more than a limp knob of hair hanging from her head. “I do believe her ladyship belongs to you. What would you like to do with her?”
Maddi inclined her head to Arie. “I yield to your just decision, cousin.”
Arie stepped forward, her eyes meeting the dark gaze of her grandmother. The woman looked… broken. Arie understood why. She had said herself all her sons were huntsmen, and no doubt they were among the multitude of faces lying dead in the ballroom. Because of her greed, she had now lost everything.
“I suppose you will kill me now,” Vera muttered. “Might as well get on with it. I will join my children in their peace.”
Arie pinched her lips together and shook her head. “No, Grandmother. I think that will be too kind for you. You will live,” Arie said, and she held a hand up against a protest that rose through the room. “Lady Vera will live. She will be relocated to a small cottage where she will have to care for her own needs in the shadow of the greatness of the Citadel. She will know poverty, she will know suffering, and she will have to live with all her memories and regrets for what she wrought.”
