And then he’s in their midst, too close for them to keep shooting and risk injuring one of their own. He flips around before anyone could have predicted and yanks one of the elves from his unicorn, grasping him above his groin as his untouched mount rears up, spins, and races away. I’m not sure what he’s going to do for a moment—whether he’ll release his prize—but he clamps down. The legs tumble to the field below as the rest of him slides down Wrath’s throat.
Brutal. He’s so fucking brutal.
Silence descends on the cavern, all of the yelling and bellowing of the elves stopping at once, even as their unicorns continue to dance around Wrath’s writhing form. For a moment, it looks like the others will continue their attack. But Balin raises his fist and the herd slams to a stop and spins in unison. They race away as quickly as they came, the black beast snapping at their tails until they’re too far for him to follow.
His joy whispers through me, an exultation at his victory. Over Balin, I assume. I don’t know what it is between them, but I’ll find out. His hatred for Wregen makes him a threat to all of us. I need to understand how dangerous he really is.
Ruxi slows, their wings barely disturbing the air as they swivel to face Wrath. He’s flying toward us in a lazy path, his fearsome body lithe and spry. His lips lift and he aims towardthe ground, shooting at one of the legs of the elf he killed. As he approaches it, he glances toward me and winks before extending his tongue, wrapping it around the ankle, and sucking it into his mouth.
“Ewww,” spills out of me before I can stop it. I don’t know why that disgusts me so much more than his other meals. There’s something about returning to a discarded body part—maybe the intentionality of it, because it’s a conscious decision instead of one made in the throes of the fight. It turns my stomach.
His laugh echoes around him, filling the cavern. He spins toward the other leg and I close my eyes. “Seeing that a single time is plenty, thank you very much,” I mutter under my breath.
Ruxi squeezes their claw gently, and I look down to see the field approaching quickly. A sigh rustles through me and out my parted lips. We’re safe. They wouldn’t release me if those elves still posed a threat.
“Well, that was fun,” Rata announces from the dragon’s back. “I didn’t know it would be so exciting traveling with you elves. You might have gotten me cheaper if you’d told me we’d be having such an adventure.”
“They almost killed our master,” Svend splutters, his eyes wide as he glares at the squirrel. “It wasn’t fun.”
“Your master, not mine,” the rodent corrects. “And he beat them like the little pansies they are. I haven’t seen a demonstration like that for…” He pauses, his gaze finding mine for a moment, before turning back to Svend. “For a long time,” he adds in a softer voice.
Wrath nudges me from behind, more gently than should have been possible for a beast his size. “You will ride with me,” he hisses, his dark eyes glowing as they reflect back the soft rays of the sun far above us.
A spark flares in my center, the rightness—the inevitability—of this moment sending warmth to flood my veins and arteries. “Did you ask Ruxi to let me down?” I ask, not moving yet. “So that I could ride you?”
“It isssss time,” Wrath tells me as he lowers his chin. “Assssscend to your dessssstiny, my mate,” he adds before resting it on the ground.
“Don’t get carried away,” I respond with a laugh. “This isn’t destiny. It’s a ride through a cavern, so we can get away from here. In case they come back.”
The beast doesn’t answer or move. Instead, he watches me, his eyes unblinking and warmer, more full of life than I ever realized. When I don’t start climbing, he lifts his head enough to speak again. “It isssss our dessssstiny,” he repeats.
I shake my head. Wrath is every bit as stubborn as his better (or worse?) half. But this is our best option. For whatever reason, mounting this beast I’m mated with is different than it would be with Ruxi. I’m not sure how to explain it—I don’t know if I understand it myself—but riding Panta’s draikani feels like a betrayal, as if I’ve given up on her and am accepting Ruxi in her place. Not with Wrath, though.The fates bound me to two winged creatures and they’re both destined to carry me.
“Look,” I tell him, “I’ll go with you, but don’t get any ideas. We need to get away from here, and I’m not ready to ride Ruxi yet. So it’s you or nobody. But this isnotme accepting our pairing. That won’t happen. I won’t let it.”
The stubborn creature stares for a long time, then rises in front of me, lifting to his full height as his gaze holds mine. “It mattersssss not if you agree,” he breathes. “It isssss our dessssstiny.”
He lowers his head to the field slowly, watching me the entire time. When we’re eye-to-eye again, I scowl at him and stalk toward his neck to choose the best place to climb. His hide is somehow hard and soft at the same time, steel coated in velvet, and the double entendre is not lost on me. Scowling more deeply, at myself this time, I reach for his scales and pull myself up.
The sensation that washes over me when I settle on Wrath’s back is unlike anything I’ve felt before. It’s more intense, our souls in greater harmony even than mine and Panta’s. It’s as if the fates have wrapped me in a warm blanket and granted every wish I ever held, or even imagined.
They want this pairing.
And I am so very fucked.
Wrath shivers beneath me and I suspect this connection is impacting him as deeply as it is me.
I’m so, so very fucked.
Ruxi throws themself into the sky and Wrath launches behind them. Within a few seconds, we rise over the trees that border Álfheimr and then leave them behind. The ground beneath us shifts suddenly, a clear line dividing the elves’ world and this one. A massive cavern looms in front of us, the sun reaching enough of it to display its outlines, and we soar in, less than a dragon’s-length between the purple beast and my black monster.
I tighten my hold, an irrational wave of anxiety rolling through me as the inky darkness in front of us draws closer. Spinning, I look behind to catch a final glimpse of my ancestor’s homeland. Wregen was right. It calls to me. We weren’t there long, but it felt more like home than Vanatia did. I’m an elf, and elves belong in Álfheimr.
But he was wrong too. If those elves’ actions hadn’t forced us to escape in the middle of the night—putting me in a position where I had to go with Wregen or leave him trapped forever at Balin’s mercy—I still would have left with him. And not because he’s convinced me I need him to free Panta.
I need him to live, even if it’s in Helheim with that bitch.
He’s still the same bastard he’s been since I first laid eyes on him. I won’t let myself forget that simple, undeniable fact. If he’s right, and he’ll never be able to free himself from Hel’s grasp, then he belongs in the purgatory he chose. At least he’ll be alive.
