I wasat warwith myself: the thought of my Mate alone, in danger, battled with the part of me which recognized my responsibilities as a chief. My clan needed me to be in command, so I could not hie off after Lillian the way I wanted to.
“Go, brother,” Vartok finally commanded me. “Try no’ to fall off yer horse.”
I scowled at him as I twisted in my saddle to survey the Bloodfire warriors.
“I will no’ fall?—”
“Ye are still no’ up to yer auld strength, and ye spent the last days depleting more.” His tone wasn’t suggestive or teasing as he spoke of the Mating Heat, which told me the topic was serious indeed.
“Go. Torvolk, the Stormseeker, and I will manage our combined warriors.”
He was right. I might be chief, used to leading my men in battle…but my brother and cousin could handle it just as well, while the Islay Battleborn were more than used to combat. Besides, myKteerwas howling in desperation to reach my Mate.
So I nodded quickly, the most I could manage in thanks before I kicked my horse into a gallop. Iwasweaker than I used to be. Four months starving in a dungeon, weeks fighting for my life, multiple injuries, and now a three-day Mating Heat had sapped me.
But I could be near death and it wouldn’t keep me from my Mate.
With my men behind me, I sped toward the distant army. I could make out the figures on horseback before it…and in front of them, a group of females. I prayed to all the gods my Mate was among them.
And that she was still safe.
The relief I felt as I saw her pull away and rush toward me was indescribable. I threw myself from my horse and caught her as she threw herself into my arms.
“Ye are well,dkaar?” I rasped, my face buried in her hair. “Torvar’s Hammer, Lillian, tell me ye’re no’ hurt.”
“I am not hurt,” she whispered against my chest. “I am glad you are here.” She shuddered once, then pulled away to glare up at me.
“But I will not apologize for going ahead of you. Ihadtoprotect my clan, Kragorn. I had to speak with Father myself.”
How could I help the big grin which split my face? Gods below, I’d chosen the perfect Mate, had I not?
Tucking her up against my side, I turned us to face her father and our ancient enemies.
The Bladesedge chief, Drakolt, was arrayed with a few other warriors and Tarbert atop horses beside him. The three women before them—one of which was alarmingly pregnant—had linked arms and were glaring at me.
These were her sisters and cousin then? And why did they look so angry at me?
We walked slowly toward them, me modulating my steps for my Mate’s smaller, halting stride, and stopped a few arms’ length from the females.
“Kragorn, these are my sisters, Sorcha and Roxanna, and my cousin Effie.”
I inclined my head in respect.
“Ladies. Lillian has spoken much of ye.”
The red-head—Sorcha—slowly smiled.
“And she has told us of you as well.”
Roxana, however scowled. “Allabout you.”
“And so have I!” yelled their father. “I told them of your perfidy!”
I had purposefully not looked at the bastard who had tortured me all winter, the one who had kept me in all fourhells…but now I switched a chilly glare on him as I fingered my fur.
“Ye’re cloak is quite warm, Tarbert.”
The old man’s face turned maroon as it contorted with rage.
