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Bringing the stone down one last time, Carrick’s forehead splits, and he flops back, no longing trying to clasp his hands around my throat. Realization dawns of what I’ve just done. Nudging him with my boot, Carrick doesn’t move.Fuck. Jaxon stifles a groan, pulling at my heartstrings, but I didn’t come out here to save one vamp by killing another. Grabbing Carrick’s wrists, I heave him towards the wall, tucking his body into an alcove of missing stone where the sun shouldn’t be able to touch. If he’s as strong as he presents, he should be able to survive until the guards return for him at nightfall. Then, without wasting another second, I’m by Jaxon’s side in a flash.
“Fuck,” Jaxon grunts, his brows twitching but unable to tense, “off.” His face isn’t too severely burned, but my concern is more focused on his chest. The cavern within his sternum was now hollow, dripping with melted flesh. Using my fangs, I chew through the rope holding him up by his feet. “Must win,” Jaxon groans. “For Aspen.” The rope gives way, and we sail toward the ground. There’s nothing I can do to prevent Jax from slamming into the forest floor, a spray of blood shooting from his mouth on impact. I land in a crouch at his side, instantly trying to lift him.
“News flash, buddy, Aspen doesn’t give a shit about some flag.” Putting Jax’s arm over my shoulder, I grit my teeth and use every ounce of strength I have to raise him a few inches from the floor. A grunt is torn from me as I get him upright, his head knocking against mine.
“No!” Jax suddenly growls, his nails dragging across my arm as I hug him to me. Fuck. Not him as well. “Win…Aspen.” His words are slurred, delirious. I glance upwards to the blue flag at the highest point, sticking out between a mass of leaves. Oh, for the love of the moon. Frustration claws at me, but the more Jaxon fights, the more I realize he won’t leave without that damn scrap of material.
Shoving him against the trunk with more force than I should, my hands and feet are scrambling upwards. Launching from one branch to the next, I sail to the top of the canopy, tugging the flag free of the crevice it has been stuffed into. A red rose lies on the branch just below, to which I shove the stem behind my ear, uncaring of the thorns. Jumping, I free-fall and land hard beside Jaxon just before he topples over.
“Here, okay. You got the flag, congratulations. What a big,” I heave him upright, “strong,” I drag him across my back, “warrior you are.” My inner vampire chuckles. With a snarl, I clasp Jaxon’s hands around my neck and run back to the gymnasium, his feet dragging behind me. My legs buckle just before I skid through the doors, my shins slamming into the tile.
A moment of shock passes through those watching. Willing my legs to heal, I shift Jaxon against my side, his arms still around my neck, and push upright. Jax is a proud male; he would want to finish this bullshit on his feet.
“Did he retrieve the flag?” Lorcan stands from his central throne, a trace of delight hidden deep within his eyes. The air whooshes out of me, the truth staring me in the face.
I’d asked myself how much these males would have to suffer, and now I have my answer. Until Lorcan could undeniably prove, in front of the entire population of vampires, Jaxon is the winner. There really was no chance for anyone else when the king was playing favorites. Chase and Torsten were decent backups should his plan not work out, probably why neither was disqualified for kissing me.
Except there’s one variable Lorcan couldn’t have accounted for.Me.
“I retrieved the flag,” I raise the blue material high for everyone present to witness. “I gifted myself the rose. I’m your trials champion, and I-” Jax’s weight buckles in an attempt to silence me. Not a chance. Seating him against Chase, who also has Torsten’s head on his lap, I straighten at glare directly at the king. “I will choose my own mates. Plural.”
Chapter22
Jaxon
Asoft grey tweed blazer adorned with a checked pattern hangs over a crisp white shirt and a black tie on my wardrobe door. Alongside the three-piece suit, a canvas bag holds a pair of polished black dress shoes. Just the thought of wearing this ensemble on my tender skin makes me squirm uncomfortably. Grumbling, I dress swiftly, knowing the more time that slips by, the more my stomach tightens into an uneasy knot. Sensing I’m ready or listening on the other side of the door for my satisfied grunt, Sorcha bursts into my room with a wide smile.
“Well, look at you. Going up in the world,” she mocks, knowing it’ll irritate me. She looks stunning in a black satin gown with elbow-high gloves to match. I eye the low cleavage and missing back section with only thin spaghetti straps holding the piece together. Shoving out of the jacket in a blur of movement, I immediately throw it over her slender shoulders with a scoff.
“You’re not going to be seen like that.” My voice is strangled, and it has nothing to do with the discomfort of using my enhanced speed.
“Oh, stop it,” Scorch slaps my hands away and tosses the jacket onto the floor. “Half the castle has already seen me on the way here, and I think I’ll be mated before the next crescent moon. That solider, Finnian, seems rather wild, don’t you think?” Finnian?! A vein bursts in my temple, my fists already clenched when I see the twinkle in her blue eyes.
“You’re teasing me,” I state. Her giggles cause me to roll my eyes and retrieve my jacket as Aviana enters my room. She passes my sister a black fur shawl and joins her fits of laughter at my expense. I’m still going to claw Finnian’s eyes out so he can’t ever look in my sister’s direction. By Vampire law, if Scorch wants to mate, it will fall to me to prepare the trials to determine a suitable partner for her. But we discussed long ago that she can choose for herself – within reason.
Striding ahead of the females, I lead the way toward the ballroom. Lanterns flicker between oil paintings through the hallways, the following of high heels echoing against the stone floor. Winding through the maze of corridors, I only stop once I’ve reached the central staircase. Carpeted in a deep purple with a chandelier hanging high above, this area of the castle was one of the last to be recently renovated.
Scorch slides her arm through mine, fur shawl firmly in place, and descends with me as expected. Vamps milling around the bottom level stop to stare, many eyes fixed on her, and I growl in warning. She giggles but doesn’t stop me because we both know she’s not ready to be courted yet. Approaching the ballroom doors, a suited and booted Chase and Torsten rush to greet me, concern in their gazes.
“We’ve been summoned to Lorcan’s office,” Torst relays. Several royal guards hover at their backs, grave looks upon their faces. I release Scorch, telling her to go with Avianna. Her brows furrow, but she obeys for once. The moment she’s out of earshot, I stride in the opposite direction, back towards the staircase.
“What is it? Has there been news of Carrick?” I ask. No one can answer me. Carrick hasn’t been seen since the final trial. His body was never recovered, almost as if he had vanished. But bastards like him aren’t so easy to squash, and it’s killed me that I haven’t been up to joining the search parties out each night looking for him. He will suffer for his crime of treason against Aspen, I’ll make sure of it.
I’ve spent the past fortnight hibernating in my bedroom while my extensive injuries take longer to heal than usual. Despite being comfortable, the only times I enjoyed my solitude are when Aspen came to visit. I’ve never been so happy to have such a small, single mattress because she had to snuggle closer to stay in my arms. Even better, Torst and Chase waited outside, guarding my door whilst listening in. Every time Aspen complimented me, a growl sounded beyond the wood. But then it came time for her to leave, and I was reminded that she was spending most of her time in their company instead.
After much insistence, the only other visitor I permitted entry was Sorcha, who attended to the remaining blisters on my chest. Our dynamic is very push and pull, between my desire to protect the spunky redhead without realizing the tables turned and she began mothering me.
Lorcan is waiting in his office, pacing behind the desk as we enter unannounced.
“What’s the problem?” I blurt out, forgetting I’m the commander. These days, my heart is in firm control, my actions guided by intuition rather than centuries of discipline.
“You are,” Lorcan growls, stopping to drop into his seat. “Remember your place and only speak once spoken to.” His nostrils flare, and I force my head to incline. When Chase and Torsten don’t do the same, I nudge them until we form a line of submission. Clasping my hands behind my back, I stand at full attention. The suit stretched across my body rubs irritably, as I knew it would. The dress shoes feel clunky on my feet as I tap my heel impatiently. The door behind me opens and closes, Aspen wriggling her way between Torsten and me.
“It’s about time,” Lorcan criticizes. His navy-blue eyes are so dark, they’re practically black. It’s true that we have been waiting in a stare-off for the past thirty minutes, but I was happy to prolong this conversation. And now she is here, her vanilla and raspberry scent sweeping over me, and my stance visibly relaxes.
“Oh yeah, sorry about that,” Aspen replies. “I didn’t want to come.” Chase chuckles at the end of the line until Lorcan slams a fist on his desk. Wooden this time, as per the redecoration of his office. No more tech and no more glass furniture – including the boarded-up windows. Pushing to stand, Lorcan’s eye twitches as he tries to refrain from the impending outburst.
“Be that as it may, we have a serious problem here.” He points between the four of us.
