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“I can reach it,” Ruhn growled.
“You can’t. Not a chance.”
Ruhn’s swinging came to a gradual halt. And in silence, they hung there, chains clanking. Then Ruhn said, “How strong is your bite, Athalar?”
Hunt stilled. “What the fuck do you mean?”
“If I … swing into you …,” Ruhn said, gasping. “Can you bite off my hand?”
Shock fired through Hunt like a bullet. From the other side of Ruhn, Baxian protested, “What?”
“I’d have more range,” Ruhn said, voice eerily calm.
“I’m not biting off your fucking hand,” Hunt managed to say.
“It’s the only way I’ll reach it. It’ll grow back.”
“This is insane,” Baxian said.
Ruhn nodded to Hunt. “We need you to be the Umbra Mortis. He’s a badass—he wouldn’t hesitate.”
“A badass,” Hunt said, “not a cannibal.”
“Desperate times,” Ruhn said, meeting Hunt’s stare.
Determination and focus filled the prince’s face. Not one trace of doubt or fear.
Pollux probably wouldn’t return until morning. It might work.
And the guilt already weighing on Hunt, on his shredded soul … What difference would this make, in the end? One more burden for his heart to bear. It was the least he could offer, after all he’d done. After he’d led them into this unmitigated disaster.
Hunt’s chin dipped.
“Athalar,” Baxian cut in roughly. “Athalar.”
Hunt dragged his eyes to the Helhound, expecting disgust and dismay. But he found only intense focus as Baxian said, “I’ll do it.”
Hunt shook his head. Though Baxian could probably reach if Ruhn stretched toward him—
“I’ll do it,” Baxian insisted. “I’ve got sharper teeth.” It was a lie. Perhaps his teeth were sharper in his Helhound form, but—
“I don’t care who fucking does it,” Ruhn snarled. “Just do it before I change my mind.”
Hunt scanned Baxian’s face again. Found only calm—and sorrow. Baxian said softly, “Let me shoulder this burden. You can get the next one.”
The Helhound had been Hunt’s enemy at Sandriel’s fortress for so many years. Where had that male gone? Had he ever existed, or had it been a mask all along? Why had Baxian even fallen in with Sandriel in the first place?
Maybe it didn’t matter now. Hunt nodded to Baxian in acceptance and thanks. “You were a worthy mate to Danika,” he said.
Pain and love flooded Baxian’s eyes. Perhaps the words had touched on a wound, a doubt that had long plagued him.
Hunt’s heart strained. He knew the feeling.
But Baxian jerked his chin at Ruhn, holding the prince’s stare with the unflinching determination he’d been known for as one of Sandriel’s triarii.
Here was the male Hunt had tangled with back then—to devastating results. Including that snaking scar down Baxian’s neck, courtesy of Hunt’s lightning.
“Get ready,” Baxian said quietly to Ruhn. “You can’t scream.”
