Every single cell in my body revolts at the thought, coming alive with a single intent: protect my mate. I glance back as Ruxi carries us away, but I can barely focus on the herd of unicorns racing after us. The bows in their riders’ hands are pulled tight, arrows barely missing the massive target we provide. The rational part of my brain insists that the horror burst inside me because I need Wregen to get Panta. The rest of me knows the truth.
I need him. I refuse to accept our bond. I can’t see any possible happiness by his side. But the life I’ll live alone will be bleak and dry. He’s a piece of my puzzle, and I’m incomplete without him.
I turn to my mate, heart galloping as frantically as the hooves of the unicorns chasing us, and swallow the truth like a bitter pill.
It’s not the bond. I wish I could blame the fates or the gods or whoever else decided we belong together. But that’s not it, and I can’t lie to myself. His kiss lit a fire in my veins in a way I never could have anticipated. And I saw a side of him in Álfheimr that I like. When he’s not being an ass, he’s fun and funny. I’m more alive in Wregen’s presence than I’ve ever beenbefore. Underneath the male Hel constructed, I’m seeing the elf the fates intended for me, before they fucked it up by giving him a beast no child should have to endure.
And much as I hate to admit it, I’m starting to understand him. Wrath ate up Wregen’s childhood and spit it out through bloody teeth, and then Wregen spent centuries merely existing in Helheim. Hel forced him to hold himself apart from anyone or anything except that bitch and her perverse pleasures. Yet he somehow held onto a wry view of the worlds and his place in them. I’d probably be worse than him if I’d had to endure that abyss without the other elves to keep me sane.
Worse—so, so much worse—I want him. Some depraved, self-destructive part of me craves the chaotic mess that is Wregen, nearly as much as I dread the bleak existence I’d endure at his side.
He knows it too. He must sense the emotions rippling through me. Despite the arrows flashing past us and the real possibility that none of us will survive, he winks, a hint of a smile lifting the edges of his lips. And my pussy clenches, as if his attention is the only thing she’ll ever need.
Well, not the only thing. She wants his dick too, and it’s getting harder and harder to tell her no.
I can’t flip him off—my hands are clinging to Ruxi’s claws like the lifelines they are—so I stick my tongue out at him. And I regret it the moment I do.
His responding laugh unleashes something inside me. I’m more alive than I’ve been in months.
Two months, I realize. The months I spent in Vanatia after escaping Helheim, before he came for me.
The longer I spend in Wregen’s presence, the more life fills me.
I’m so fucked.
I can’t give in, though. Memories of my time in Helheim rush into my thoughts, shoving aside my musings about Hel’s chosen lieutenant. My time was better than Wregen’s, but I suffered too. Hel soon learned that I led the elves, so she punished them through me. The first time was the worst but also the least traumatic, because I didn’t know what to expect. After that, terror and dread added to the horror of the “corrections” she preferred.
One of the younger elves had tried to sneak into Hel’s castle, Éljúðnir. He paid for his mistake. He’s a wraith now, entombed and decorating her halls, along with anyone else who aggrieved her in some way. When she finished with him, she called for me. Hel carved her name into my flesh over and over again. Splayed skin or my own blood covered every inch of me. And then she froze me in rock like her other victims. I spent three days there, my body in stasis, every wound pounding through me as if she stood above my near-corpse wielding her knife.
That wasn’t enough for Hel, though. In addition to my own pain, she gave me the agony of the others, along with their thoughts. All 917 of them. Some had been trapped in her castle long enough to break their minds, lunacy spilling throughthem day and night. Others were still lucid, many barely, as their sanity slowly slipped away.
The elf who caused our trauma was the worst. His pain and guilt will find their way into my nightmares for the rest of my life. I’m not sure how I held onto my reason during that or the other 22 times she used that particular “reprimand” on me.
Ruxi drags my attention away from Hel and her punishments when they shift directions. I exhale slowly, shaking my head as I remind myself that I won’t let Wregen take me back there. The dragon is spiraling through the air, somersaulting as they somehow evade the arrows. The stomach that tried to heave up its meager contents a few seconds ago redoubles its efforts. Closing my eyes, I focus on inhaling and exhaling slowly, as I trust Panta’s draikani to save us. Within a few seconds, I’ve got enough control to feel fairly certain I won’t spew all over myself.
And then something changes. Ruxi starts to level out, no longer twisting through the sky. The gusts of air wrapping around us with every flap of their wings disappears, as if they’ve decided to stop flying. Daring to open my eyes, I look up and see why. They’ve tucked their wings in tightly, gaze focused on the cavern that will take us back to the underworld. They pull us closer, their body as small as they can make it, and pivot.
“Hold,” Wregen whispers, his voice landing in my ear as if he’s right next to me. When I turn to him again, he gives me the smirk he loves. “Wouldn’t want to lose you now that you’refinally starting to realize where you belong. Who you belong to.”
I’d flip him off if I wasn’t terrified to let go. I am, though, so I settle for giving him my fiercest sneer.
Within a few seconds, we’re shooting into the cavern, the herd of unicorns barely a dragon’s-length behind us. But this is where their odd relationship with gravity slows them down. Ruxi aims straight for the ground, spinning and swerving to avoid the arrows that still fly toward us. The unicorns can’t. They circled the tunnel coming up, and do the same thing going down. Before my heart beats a half-dozen times, we’re too far away for their bolts.
“Hold,” Wregen whispers again as the bottom looms in front of us. I steel myself for the lurch that’s coming, thanking the gods for his magic. As soon as we’re free of the shaft, Ruxi whips their wings out, flinging me to the side with so much force, I wonder if I’ll fly away despite their tight grip. But they won’t let me go. I know that as surely as I know that Wregen’s my mate. I glance back as Ruxi races toward the dark safety of the caves, relieved when I don’t see a single unicorn.
“Will they follow us when we cross out of Álfheimr?” I yell, my heart still galloping in my chest.
I’m not sure if he’ll hear me, but he glances over with a quick shake of his head. “We should be free once we leave their realm,” he casts into my ear. “Unless their queen wants you more than I think, or I’ve managed to piss Balin off enough for him to ignore her orders and give chase.”
Something catches his attention and he spins his head to look behind us. I do the same, terrified of what I’ll find. And it’s exactly what I dread. The unicorns made it to the bottom and they’re racing after us faster than before. As if they face less resistance this far below the surface, the elves’ mounts reach speeds I can barely comprehend. They’re closing on us fast—much too fast—and I have no idea how we’ll make it.
And then Wregen turns back to me. “I’ll be back,” he purrs as Ruxi’s claw opens and they drop him. Before he can reach the ground, though, he shifts, a male elf one moment and a vicious black serpent the next. He extends his bat-like wings and pivots in the air, throwing himself at his attackers.
I was frightened before. Now, I’m terrified, a tremble rolling down my spine to chill every inch of skin and the organs beneath, all of my bones, even the tendons that hold them together. I can only watch his long form undulate in the air, my breath caught in my throat. His wings flap enough to keep him aloft as he races toward them, collapsing into his body the rest of the time, to create a terrible, terrifying monster with a shockingly narrow profile.
As I watch, my dread turns to awe at his wile. A grin emerges on my face, and my frozen lungs thaw, letting me breathe freely again. He’s confusing our pursuers, who are trying desperately to take him down before it’s too late. His movements are so random and fast, it’s impossible to know where he’ll be by the time an arrow reaches him. They’re spit-balling, their bolts too slow to reach him before he shimmers away.
Twice, they manage to draw blood, the blades catching enough of his hide to wound him. But that’s not enough to poison him, I realize, as he continues his assault. They’ll need to pierce him—probably with more than one arrow—to have any hope.
