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My arms are tired and feel like jelly. Not because I had to race wildly across the landscape, but because I had to keep my dying mate from slipping off Kian’s back during the journey.
I can’t help myself. I reach out and brush my fingers over Frost’s bare thigh. He’s so cold. Too cold. The kind of cold that only comes as the oxygen fades and the blood chills.
And I can’t do anything to warm him.
Not too long ago, I wanted Frost dead. I wanted all three of them dead, and I planned to do it myself to save the world from a witch’s apocalyptic premonition.
You have not one mate, but three.
And they will destroy the world.
All those months, two years’ worth of months, where I chased them down, desperate to put a stop to their chaos. It was my all-consuming goal for so long.
Except now… now I know better. I know they’re good men. Or at least, not evil. I know they’re capable of love because they love each other. I know they’re capable of empathy and goodness because they’ve shown me the truth. I would move heaven and earth to change fate, if it means they survive.
Allof them.
My stomach twists around itself like a snake, cramping with worry. I leave my fingers resting on Frost’s leg as his body shakes beneath Kian’s palms.
The idea of him dying tears me apart inside.
“Frost!” Kian roars, his face twisting with emotion. The jagged scar that bisects his eyebrow is pale white and mottled red, and it knots with his pained grimace. He looks like a warrior whose partner has fallen in battle. He moves faster, presses harder, and his breaths become shallower.
Like a man possessed.
Or a brother lost.
Malix reaches out to put his hand over Kian’s. “That’s enough. It’s done.”
“No!” I blurt the word on a gasp, my entire body turning cold. The tears that have been threatening to spill over finally do, wetting my lashes and my cheeks. A small sob slips from me, and I squeeze Frost’s leg to ground myself.
Fuck. Fuck. Oh god. Fuck. This is it. He’s not going to make it.
I think of Frost standing in Erik’s private library. We killed the solitary witch for trying to sell us out to Felicity, Quinton’s estranged mate, then we searched his house for anything that could help us on our quest to neutralize the shadow poison that was killing us both. Frost looked like he was formed from the dark and shadows in that room, his pale blond hair a spot of brightness as he pulled books from shelves. He opened up to me that night about the pain they feel carrying shadow magic around all the time. He showed me how intelligent he was, how quick he was with strategy.
He told me how being near me eased his constant ache.
And then, after I tracked them to their pack lands and was captured by Quinton, he saved my life. Without a second thought. Without hesitation. He threw himself against Quinton’s gun to keep him from putting a bullet in me, effectively severing ties with his alpha.
For me.
Another sob wracks my body. I lean over and press my face to his cold, pale skin and give in to my tears.
But then Kian lets out a harsh, triumphant cry.
I bolt upright, my eyes flying wide.
Frost drags in a harsh, almost pained gasp of air. He stirs slightly, his fingers twitching. Then he coughs and sucks in another breath.
My own heart seems to stop, the air freezing in my lungs as I stare at him in disbelief.
Kian did it.
He brought him back.
Relief floods me so strongly that my limbs feel rubbery. Chest aching from unshed tears and a gratitude that I can’t even articulate, I crawl up next to Kian to lean over Frost. I want to be close to him. To watch him come back to us.
His icy blue eyes flutter open in increments, as if he’s surfacing from a heavy sleep. He pulls in another deep, ragged breath, grimacing. One hand drifts to his chest like he’s in pain. I can’t say I’m surprised, given how hard Kian was pumping his heart. He has to have a broken rib or two, or at least several bruised ones. For a moment, Frost’s eyes are unfocused, his brows pulled together as he tries to gain his bearings.
Then his gaze shifts to me.
We lock eyes, and my heart jumps in my chest. Recognition crosses his face, mixed with the lingering confusion that still hovers there. His expression softens, chasing away the dazed look with something almost like love.
Oh, thank God.
He’s still himself. He still knows me. The relief is almost painful, and happy tears burn hot in my eyes. I can’t find my voice, but I manage to mouth his name. Frost.
I want to blurt out words that I would never consider saying under normal circumstances. The truth of how I feel about him, how deeply he’s embedded himself in my heart, mate bond or no. I want to tell him I owe him everything, that I owe him the rest of my life for saving me.
But then everything changes in a split second.
The tenderness melts away from his features, the softness draining from his blue eyes. His expression contorts, turning vicious. One moment, his angular, aristocratic features are soft and loving, then the next, he’s a monster.
Snarling with fury, he surges up from the ground—lunging right for me.
