The healer watched a battle-hardened orc carrying a bloodied warhammer come down on her without a modicum of fear.
In another life, at another time, he might’ve stumbled. He might’ve lost his mind completely as he beheld the perfect creature staring back at him like a goddess come down to ease the suffering of mortals.
But in this lifetime he was a soldier, and when a cry of warning went up, he didn’t stop to think about anything besides keeping her alive.
It was pure instinct to fling his body over hers a mere moment before an explosive detonated only a few feet away.
He landed hard on top of her, his much larger and tougher body pressing her into the filth. The shifter she’d been tending to didn’t even have a moment to let out a cry before his battle was ended, taking him far beyond what even the best healers could do. Heat flashed across Henrik’s body, searing him through the layers of his thick wool uniform and armor.
The pain barely registered.
The world went very still as he pressed his face into the healer’s dark hair, revealed by her fallen hair-covering. Despitethe acrid smoke and blood that permeated everyone and everything on the battlefield, the scent of violets reached him.
Another flash of heat, so very different from that of an explosive, scorched the flesh of his hands and feet.
Henrik gasped, his powerful limbs contracting around the soft body below him. Something inside him cracked open under the force of an invisible hammer’s blow, letting loose a flood of instinct.
My mate. My mercy. My blessing.
The words were formless but certain, an unshakeable feeling that brooked no argument. They came from something inside of him that was beyond logic, beyond battlefields or loyalty to clan and queen. They were immutable and undeniable.
Henrik rose up on his hands to behold the blessing he’d been given. She lay beneath him, her eyes closed but her breathing steady, apparently knocked unconscious either by his hard landing or the explosive.
Raising a shaking hand, he cupped her dirtied cheek. His flesh, once a pale gray, had blackened not from the dirt, but from the gift he never dreamed he’d receive: the kohl.
“Thank you,” he breathed, stroking the smooth skin below the grime. His voice was little more than a smoke-roughened croak. Even if she’d been awake to hear it, she might not have understood it.
The cold mud shuddered under them as another bomb went off. Debris flew over their heads, pelting his back with stones, bits of what was once an encampment, and the gods only knew what became of men when they met explosives.
Instinct had always been a powerful force in him, but he’d never experienced it like he did then.
Henrik’s vision sharpened as a wave of adrenaline washed over him. He didn’t feel his wounds or his fatigue. There was nohunger or the persistent soreness of a body that’d seen too much battle.
He wasnew.
All at once, he understood what he had to do. Henrik didn’t have time to be gentle as he slung his mate over his shoulder. She weighed less than his field pack, which he’d somehow managed to retain through the ambush. Gripping the backs of her thighs with one possessive hand, he held tight to his hammer and surged to his feet.
“All will be well,” he promised his healer. Fear and worry evaporated. All that existed in him was the instinct to protect her and the unshakeable certainty that he’d do anything to earn the gift the gods had given him — even if that meant abandoning the cause he’d sacrificed seventy years for.
No,he thought, eyeing the horizon through the smoke.I didn’t fight for the Orclind.
Seeing a narrow opening in the fighting, he bent at the waist and charged. His boots threatened to slide in the slushy mud, but he somehow managed to keep his balance as he dodged snarling shifters and the ear-shattering pop of explosives. His own people didn’t fire on him, though they should have. If they noticed he was runningawayfrom them rather than toward them, they did so far too late.
His legs never carried him faster than they did when he sprinted with reckless speed through the battle.
When he finally cleared the smoke, he didn’t stop.
When the sounds of gunshots and bombs exploding faded, he didn’t stop.
When gentle snow became a howling blizzard, he didn’t stop.
He ran until he could run no more, compelled by the ancient instinct to protect and hide that which was most precious. He ran and ran, blood soaking his uniform and fingers gone numb from cold.
Only when he reached the remains of an abandoned town did he finally slow.
I did it for her,he realized, nearly delirious with exertion and blood loss.I did all of this for her. Now I have to get her safe. She needs a nest. Where can we nest?
The sky was rapidly darkening. The cold was as sharp and clean as a blade on his tongue. The building storm added to the pounding urgency in his veins. He could survive the elements, but his fragile mate couldn’t.
