"She's dying," I choke out. "I can feel her slipping away."
"Then let me save her," Eir says, her voice gentler now. "Please, my prince."
With agonizing reluctance, I release Astrid's hand. The moment our skin separates, my wolf howls in protest, the sound echoing in my mind like a physical pain.
My grandmother's arm encircles my waist, guiding me toward the door. "Come, my sweet boy. Let Eir help your mate."
As we reach the doorway, I hear it… Astrid's heart stops.
The steady, but weak rhythm is suddenly silenced and something inside me snaps.
The change takes me without warning. Bones crack and reshape, muscles tear and reform, skin gives way to fur. My grandmother jumps back as the wolf bursts forth, a roar of rage and grief tearing from my throat.
I can't stay. Can't watch. Can't be contained. The wolf is in control now. With one last agonized look at Astrid's still form on the table, I turn and bolt from the palace.
Behind me, I hear my grandmother call out.
But I run.
Through the palace corridors where I played as a child, past startled guards and servants, out into the city streets. The cool night air of Asgard washes over my fur.
I run as if I could somehow outpace the grief and rage and helplessness.
My paws thunder against golden roads, past the great library with its eternal flame, beyond the armory where Thor’s hammer, Mjolnir, rests. I run past the rainbow bridge, toward the darkness beyond the city, as if I could somehow outrun the truth…
That Astrid is gone. That I was too late. I failed her.
The man in me won’t survive that loss.
CHAPTER 36
I’m Pretty Sure I Died
* * *
Astrid Mathieson
I'm sinking in darkness. Cold. Heavy. Can't move. Voices filter through, distant and unfamiliar.
"...neutralized the venom..."
"...she’s his mate..."
"...rest now..."
I try to open my eyes, to speak, but my body won't cooperate. The darkness pulls me under again, my thoughts fragmenting into nothing.
Light burns through my eyelids. Pain throbs across my chest with each heartbeat. I manage to part my lips, throat dry as sandpaper.
"Don't... shoot the wolf..." The words come out as barely a whisper.
A cool hand touches my forehead. A woman's voice. "Rest, child. You're safe now."
I force my eyes open just enough to see blurred shapes. A woman with golden hair leans over me. Another stands beside her, something silver glinting in the light.
Their faces swim in my vision. I try to ask where I am, but exhaustion pulls me back under.
"Sleep," the golden-haired woman says. "Your body needs time to heal."
