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My father pushed himself back on his hind legs, one of his front ones swiping at me, so I killed my momentum and rolled to the side instead. Just in time, too, his far too long claws slashing through the air where I’d just been. But I didn’t let the opportunity go to waste, either. I darted forward and seized my father’s leg in my jaw, sinking my teeth down as far as they would go.
It was a painful wound, I knew from experience, but my father hardly reacted. It was like he couldn’t feel pain at all, he was so focused on destroying his enemy, on ripping apart anyone who opposed him, piece by piece, until they were nothing but blood and viscera.
It was too bad his target just so happened to be me.
Normally, I’d try to bear it down, even wrench my opponent’s limb out of its socket, but such techniques wouldn’t work with my father. He was both too huge and far too battle hardened, his alpha form having decades upon decades to grow in power. Instead, he was the one who yanked me, jerking my body off my feet as he slammed me into the wall. I let go of his leg, realizing that if I kept my hold, it was going to hurt me much more than him.
Pathetic, my father’s shifter voice echoed in my head, and it made me nauseous to hear it. He didn’t often use it, as I rarely saw him in his wolf form, but his exact tone and timbre were tied into far too many traumatic memories in my head. Of him screaming at me, of him speaking with cold disdain and disappointment, even bellowing at my mother when she couldn’t keep up during a full moon run.
All those memories broiled within me, making for an intense cocktail of rage. Hurt. Adrenaline. It coursed through my veins, charging me up in a way I hadn’t felt since the last grand battle for Fort Canid.
I was tired of my father’s tyranny. I was tired of his delusional choices costing the lives of innocent civilians, and I was tired of everyone around him who’d half a heart being verbally and occasionally physically beaten into submission until they lost every bit of kindness and consideration.
Do you think you could take this crown from me?
It’s not about the crown, I snarled back. Somewhere in my brain, I was vaguely aware that the guards fighting around us had either slowed or come entirely to a stop, no doubt shocked at what was happening. I was well aware of the whispers ever since I was born that it was often the destiny of an alpha son to overthrow his father, and for so long, I’d sworn that would never be me.
Funny how things changed.
It’s about our kingdom, father, and my mate. I won’t let you harm her or any of our innocent citizens. Can’t you see you’re hurting Camdaria? She’s losing her soul!
I expected my father to make a play for my throat, but instead, he sat back on his haunches, drawing himself up so he could look down on me, even as his shifter voice echoed in my head. Souls. Innocence. Pointless ideals from those too cowardly to do what needs to be done.
What needs to be done, father? What is your end goal besides more power for yourself?
I was seething mad in a way I hadn’t been in ages. Years of pent-up resentment and trauma were all coming to a head with plenty of bite. And, oh, was I ready to bite.
I dashed toward him, ignoring the ringing in my ears from the blow he dealt me, but I ducked, launching myself up onto an alabaster statue and using that to throw myself bodily against my father.
I tried to clamp my teeth around his throat, but of course, the king was too experienced to be completely surprised. He spun around as soon as he realized what I was doing, his hip connecting and knocking me to the side… at least it would have if my teeth hadn’t latched onto his hide, digging in as deep as I could.
“Nathaniel! Nikolai! What are you doing?”
I recognized the voice of my mother from somewhere behind me as the king’s blood began to surge up into my mouth and around my teeth. It was warm but acrid, too similar to my own to be satisfying. My inner wolf took no joy in it compared to spilling the blood of our enemies.
Part of me wanted to let go of my mother’s cry. Queen Brielle was known for her comportment, and didn’t often break into hysterics, but I could hear the pain and shock in her voice. I did feel terribly for her. This had to be an absolute nightmare, but I couldn’t stop. My father had made it clear that he was fighting for my life, and I wasn’t ready to just hand it over.
I clawed at my father’s side, summoning every ounce of natural dominance I had as an alpha, but it was nothing compared to wave after wave of the same thing from my father. As he lunged to the side, slamming me into another wall, I realized I wouldn’t be able to outlast him without fulfilling my fated mating bond, or without strong allies. I especially didn’t stand a chance with my shoulder still healing from my silver injury. It looked like the curse was going to be more effective in causing my end than any of us thought.
At least I could take comfort in the fact that Ayla had fled. As long as she was safe, I could die happy. I would give up anything, including my life, to ensure she never came to harm again.
“Kai!”
Wait, why was I hearing her voice?
Confusion stirred before a gust of wind burst down the hall, and the next thing I knew, my father was being shoved up against the far wall while my crumpled form was yanked backward. I was so shocked by the sudden, rapid movement that I didn’t fight it.
I skidded to a stop against something soft and furry but with a solid layer of muscle beneath it. Shaking my head as I jumped to my feet, I realized that I was up against Oren’s flank, his muzzle pulled back in a snarl. Darla was also beside him, a spear in her hand and a fierce expression on her face.
Then Ayla, my beloved Ayla, was standing just in front of us, both of her hands raised and half-whispered words pouring from her mouth. The air around her crackled with energy, making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
Whatever she was doing, it was working, because no one could move into the hallway we were in. But it wasn’t another one of Ayla’s forcefields. Instead, it was like a wall of wind pushing them up against the opposite partition, pinning them there. It’d be the perfect chance to run.
If only Ayla could move.
I may not have known anything about magic, but I could tell when my mate was caught up in the demand of it, where she was less an independent variable and more a conduit. I doubted she could keep up the spell while also fleeing, and we needed her to.
I just wasn’t powerful enough to go toe to toe with my father, even with all of the fury and justice in my veins. and while I would keep fighting if it were my only choice to save Ayla, I recognized that wasn’t an option.
