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We continued to fight together, helping out where we could and defending ourselves tooth and nail, but as the minutes passed, I noticed the battle was slowing, and, unless I was mistaken, I was pretty sure we were winning.
It was an advantage we never would've had without the protective relic, and I turned to tell Ayla as much in shifter-speak. But I didn’t so much as get a single syllable out before a magical blast sent us both flying.
It had come out of nowhere, with not even my thick fur sensing a change in the air. One moment we were dashing across the ground, our paws in sync, the next we were fully in the air.
I hit the ground hard but was otherwise unhurt, which was hardly even an injury for a shifter. But I didn’t care about myself, instead desperately looking around to make sure Ayla was all right.
I spotted her a few feet away from me, her wolf form rippling as if she was having trouble holding on. She must have taken far too much of the blast if her beast was trying to retreat in the middle of battle, meaning I’d failed her yet again.
I shook my head and stood, intending to trot over to her, but out of nowhere there was a figure between us—one that seemed more nightmare than reality.
The Shrouded Shriek.
He had his hand raised, targeting Ayla, my mate, specifically. Hadn’t he done enough already? Did he really feel the need to chase her, terrorize her, and hurt her after everything else he’d been doing to her since she was a child? What even was the point?
I was in front of him with a leap and a twist, growling deeper and louder than I ever had before, and while it did stop him from taking another step, I could tell he wasn’t impressed.
I didn’t care if he took me seriously or not. All I knew was he wouldn’ttouch a single hair on Ayla’s head.
The shriek that came out of him was somehow mocking, even teasing, but I stood my ground. Come what may, I'd defend my mate to the death.
But the Shriek did hesitate when another growl joined my own from the right, then another rumbling with the gravel that came from age. Then he stopped altogether when a familiar, third growl added itself to the left.
I knew without turning my head that it was Oren and Mad Dog. Whether Ayla and I had wandered close to them in our fight or whether they’d found us didn’t matter. All that did was that we were a united front.
The Shriek let out a sound that could have been a cuss if it were actual words, and we pounced as one. My teeth went for a leg, intending to yank him off his feet so we could swarm soft areas like his belly and chest. Oren went for one of his arms. MadDog? Well, he was tall, even for a wolf, and full of the ambition that came with years on the battlefield, so he went for the head.
Out of all of us, Oren was the only one who connected, however, a spray of old, borderline rotten blood spritzing into the air before we were all knocked back by what felt like a tornado. When it cleared, the Shroud was gone completely, without a sign that he was ever there.
Did he retreat?Oren said, still on full alert despite what had to be the most noxious blood dripping down his chin.
No one has wounded that bastard in ages. I’m sure we gave him a proper fight.
A fight good enough to leave, though?
I didn’t know, and honestly, the whole thing seemed impossible. But as more seconds passed, I noticed enemy soldiers were either surrendering or running. Had the Shriek somehow ordered a retreat? Or were they running scared without their leader?
There was no one to answer that question, but after several minutes, the answer made itself apparent. We had won. The battle was over, and we'd live to see another day.
When that was clear, and it was safe, we all shifted into our human forms caked in dirt and blood. If Ayla’s reappearance surprised Oren and Mad Dog, only the latter showed it, staring at her with a mixture of curiosity and shock. After all, it wasn’t every day someone got to see the wolf form of their captain’s fated mate for the first time.
First time, but hopefully just one of many. After all, Ayla and I had a whole future together.
“This way.”
I normally didn’t just order Ayla around outside of professional capacity, but the moment I found her in the infirmary, nursing wounded soldiers, I waited until she was done before gently gripping her wrist and pulling her along with me.
I hated letting her out of my sight after the battle, but I needed to tend to my duties, and she had her healing to do. I’d gotten a tentative headcount of our losses, our wounded, and other relative info, and as far as all the information was going, we had a clear victory on our hands. It really had gone better than any of us could have expected, and while I was grateful for that, I wanted—no, needed really—to spend time taking care of my mate.
She must’ve felt the same because she let me lead her on, all sorts of emotions drifting through her scent. Relief, pride, worry, arousal, irritation: they mixed together into a bittersweet rollercoaster of pleasantry and spice, tickling the inside of my nostrils.
But that was all right. She’d never really had anyone to take care of her in her adult life, so she wasn’t used to it. That wasn’t going to fly anymore, however, because I fully intended to make sure she was tenderly looked after.
“Why are we headed toward your quarters?” she asked as I turned down the wing that led to officer lodgings. To me, the answer was simple, but again I understood why she might be confused.
“We need to wash the battle off us.”
“I’m not sure if there’s enough hot water in the world for that.”
