“You were saying, Mate?”
He brushes his hand over the wound as it slowly mends, his hand coming away coated and dripping blood.
You will pay for that. Put down the weapon, Eridessa.
No, I think not.
“If we are called to stand in shadow,
if we are called to bleed and fall,
let our suffering be an offering?—
His love for those chosen endureth all.”
Who knew my mate had such a beautiful voice? Truly, I’m intrigued.
He doesn’t react at all when I whip him again. He just takes the hit and steadily strides toward me.
The next time I unleash it, he grabs the whip and coils it around his fist, slicing into his palm as he winds it tight and yanks. I am dragged forward hard enough that my boots leave the floor.
A humorless chuckle slips from my throat as I spin with the pull and close the distance deliberately. I drive my claws, which have grown sharp in seconds, into his new wound, fingers spearing inside torn muscle, and for the first time, I smile up at him.
“By silver moon and crimson morning,
by thorn and vow, by scar and star,
we meet the darkness without trembling?—
for He remembers who we are.”
He smiles back, all teeth and fang—a malicious feral smile as he clamps a hand around my throat.
“I am not your enemy.”
I hiss, “Your actions say otherwise.”
His eyes search my face. For a fraction of a second, something shifts in his expression. Not dominance. Not fury. Something almost… contemplative as his anger recedes.
“We’re mates, Eridessa,” he says, quieter now. “I know you feel it. Your wolf recognizes the bond we share. But even before we became what we now are, you called to me. I believe there was a reason you sought me out. If you’d only stop to think, you’d see?—”
“I sought you out to kill you. You were my enemy, nothing more.”
“No, I don’t believe that.”
“I don’t give a damn what you believe.”
“This is design, Eri. God’s, and he’s not playing around. There’s a reason Orán found you, and that I was led here. That we were gifted with power not of this world. For whatever reason, you, woman, are somehow my destiny, and I didn’t have a hand in that. He did. I don’t know why or how, and I don’t wish to fight it. In fact, it’s the opposite.”
His thumb presses against my pulse. Not crushing anymore but with feeling, as if learning me and how my heart races under his touch.
“Truly,” he adds, and this time there’s no mockery in it, “I didn’t mean to cause you further harm. If you could only see?—”
“God,” I breathe coldly, “would not deliver me such a fate unless it is his way of making me pay for losing faith. So might I then view this as a curse instead of a blessing.”
“Believe what you want, little one,” he murmurs, something possessive flashing again. “Either way, you are meant to be mine.”
A slow smile curves my lips. “But why would God saddle me with you when your brother is much better suited? Or hasn’t he told you…that he’s already taken your place in my bed? Maybe he’s my mate.”
