“No!” The word tears from my throat as Pax moves the dagger.
I’m furious with Marcus, but he can’t die. He means too much to the Dust Walkers. There are no good choices here, only bad ones and worse ones, and he’s best suited to make them.
Black fur flashes through my field of vision, a massive wolf lunging at Pax and clamping its jaws around his forearm. He yelps in pain, and the dagger falls to the ground.
Marcus pulls the stun stick from the enormous snake’s mouth, its limp body dropping. He’s breathing hard. Flavius, the leader of the pack of wolves on the island Marcus is bonded to, growls and drops his head, his gold eyes trained on the prisoner coming for Marcus.
The guy is a soaking wet mountain, murderous intent flashing in his pale-blue eyes. Marcus is six feet four and the prisoner hulks over him. He’s built like a battering ram, his tree-trunk arms and legs bulging with muscle. With his blond hair tied back at his neck and his thick, bushy beard, he looks like a Viking warrior.
Flavius growls louder, the fur on his back standing on end. He’s the size of a small horse, aromium making him stronger and meaner than a regular wolf. The Viking glances from Pax to Flavius, considering.
More wolves approach, making a half circle around us. Their heat and menacing growls wrap around us like a protectiveshield. Several thick green vines join the wolves, gliding over the ground near my feet.
They look innocent, but they can do some serious damage. Pax spits on the ground, his glare murderous.
“Give me the entire boatload and I’ll deliver food within an hour,” Marcus says. “Medicine, too.”
“Fuck you,” Pax spits out. “I’m coming for you, too. I’m gonna cut your throat and you can bleed out right on this beach.”
“Why wait? I’m right here,” Marcus says, his voice lethally calm. “Let’s go.”
Flavius inches closer to Pax, his pack advancing with him. Pax and the Viking back away.
“Not today,” Pax says, looking disgusted. “You won’t even see it coming.”
Marcus huffs a humorless chuckle. “Yeah, backstabbing’s your game, isn’t it?”
Pax grips the dagger, which he must have picked up. He’s considering. It’s stupid, but he’s a man whose pride has been insulted, so of course he’s thinking about attacking when the odds are against him.
Flavius’s warning snap jolts Pax back into sanity. The Viking tilts his head at Pax, indicating they should retreat in the other direction.
I don’t like the way he seems to know Pax even though he just got here.
“Guess snake’s on the menu tonight,” Marcus calls after them.
“Will you stop?” I say softly.
He scoffs. “Fuck no. With him? Never.”
“Whipping your dick out takes one hand out of commission. You need both hands for a fight.”
“Takes both hands to whip mine out,” he quips.
“Oh, you’ve got jokes? After three fucking weeks, you’ve got jokes?”
His amusement drops away, replaced by a dark glower. “What do you want me to say, Briar? We were doomed from the start. It was only a matter of time before you found out what I’ve done and hated me.”
“Maybe if you’d had the balls to tell me yourself, I wouldn’t hate you.”
The commotion on the beach is subsiding. Nova’s helping a limping Dust Walker back to our side. The wolves are still here, keeping watch, and they will be until Marcus calls them off. But for now, he and I are in our own world, neither of us willing to give in and look away.
Only two feet of space separate us. I haven’t been this close to him since before. Close enough to see that he hasn’t shaved today, a shadow of stubble showing. Sweat drips from his chin.
“You would,” he says. “And I don’t blame you. I hate myself more than you ever will.”
The self-loathing in his tone takes me aback. Marcus is steady and certain. He operates on logic, not emotion. I’ve never seen anyone struggle less with tough decisions. He makes them quickly and never second-guesses himself.
“Marcus!” Nova yells.
