Fuck.
“To me!”
Demons swarmed, stone blasting out from the alleyway structures to grab the serpent. At the same time, Brand went to his knees behind Luna, wrapping his arms around her and engulfing her tiny hands with his. He couldn’t touch her power, but he could touch her.
“Pull!”
She did, all her weight pressing into his chest as he pulled with her, trying to bring its head to the ground where he could reach it. Lips peeled back, a ripple of light surged from her hands and folded the rope in on itself, threads spinning out and back in around themselves.
The dreadwyrm shrieked, thrashing, trying to dislodge the talon. More stone and earth rose up like reaching hands, grasping and towing.
“Almost there, little moon. Again!”
Another heave, another ripple, another fold.
“Hedda!” His Second whirled around, grimacing as she manipulated the stone. “Take her!”
She was there in a blink, switching places with him and enveloping his mate’s body.
“With your life, Second.”
She gave a sharp nod, knowing what he meant—protect his mate at all costs.
Brand brandished his jagged talon and leapt into the air, closing the remaining distance between himself and the clamoring beast. With a roar, he brought that one down, too.
The damage was less that time, having learned their lesson thrice over.
Luna was slumped back in Hedda’s arms, gulping down hiccuping breaths. “I can’t believe I did that.”
Hedda chuckled. “I take partial credit.”
Brand gathered Luna to himself, giving Hedda a pointed look of thanks before he turned away and hugged his mate close. “You were incredible. Thank you. You might have saved my bloody life.”
She huffed a shaky laugh, leaning her forehead against his chest. “I was aiming for its mouth.”
Brand joined her, laughing at the absurdity of it. “Practice makes perfect. We’ll make a warrior of you yet.”
“I fucking hope not.”
Pet and Sorcha loped into the square, their fur splattered with black ooze. Luna squealed, a shudder running through her as she tossed out a shield to coast along their bodies, scraping it away. That’s when they noticed Sorcha was hobbling, her foreleg bent in the wrong direction.
“Shite, Thad is hurt. Put me down, Brand.”
He did, hoping to the Sisters she didn’t look around her and notice the others who hadn’t been as fortunate. The sorrow would have to wait for after, when they could allow their mourning to begin. For now, he could still hear the chorus of battle in the area of the city nearest the shore.
Mag shifted, uncaring of his nudity or the muck and shattered rocks beneath his feet. “Vann and Lyriat have it well in hand,” he said. “Last one.”
Brand kept his eye on Luna, crouched in front of a panting Sorcha as her prismatic power flared. She’d be needing him and the gift he could offer her, but there’d be no sleep for her tonight.
As if on cue, the violence died down and the cries became audible. The weeping and wailing, like ghosts haunting the decimated streets. The reek of death and pain. It was easy to ignore in the thick of it, to block it out and focus on the task at hand.
This. This was the worst part. This was when she’d be most needed.
Luna kept one hand on Sorcha’s flank as they ambled over, a limp in her own step now. It was the wary, almost suspicious, feeling down the bond that got to him first, though. A guarded trepidation that set his own mind to spinning.
“Mag?”
“Aye?”
