The blood-bond snaps against his bones.
Malice doesn’t like it. Certainly, doesn’t want his bonded-mate risking her life for this scrawny Wolf. But he’s determined to ensure the three of them make it out of this alive, even if it takes waking Reikan and allowing the Dragon to devour the entire pack that challenges Aerin.
As if sensing his thoughts, Reikan stirs.[What is she up to now?]
[See for yourself.]The Dragon looks through Malice’s eyes.
Aerin stands a few feet in front of them, tall, regal, and intimidating. The black Wolf steps aside as others enter the meadow. Six identical black Wolves stand at the perimeter, creating a half-circle before a hulking silver Wolf stalks throughthe opening. Magic rolls off her in waves. This is the Alpha, Elara.
“Elara, Alpha of the Southeastern Wolves,” Aerin addresses the silver Wolf. In response, the Wolf bares her teeth. Aerin ignores the display and continues, “I challenge you for the Wolf known as Emrys.” She gestures to the limp body behind her.
Elara almost seems to laugh.
“If he’s as weak as you claim, then he is no loss to you or your pack. Release him from your magic,” Aerin replies with a snarl.
Malice’s mind is reeling. He knows little about Pack magic, but from his understanding, lesser Wolves can only exist tied to an Alpha, as their magic is not their own. Without an Alpha to feed them magic, they will die. If that is the case, Aerin is either asking to let the Wolf die or suggesting that she will tie the Wolf to her magic instead. Offering herself as a host for it to leech magic from.
A roaring anger sears within, but Malice keeps everything locked away behind closed doors. He physically cannot betray her orders, no matter how badly he wants to.
Elara says something else. The Wolf language cannot be heard by the Fae, or at least he thought. Perhaps Elara is projecting her words into Aerin’s head.
“If it’s a fight you want, Elara, it’s a fight you’ll get,” Aerin says, her body rippling with change until she stands before Malice on all fours. Aerin as a Wolf is almost the same size as Elara, though slightly smaller, narrower, lighter. Her fur shines the same blonde as her natural hair.
Aerin bares her canines at the silver Wolf.
It’s then that the weak white Wolf raises his head. Something is exchanged between the three Wolves that Malice can’t understand. He grinds his teeth.
[Can you understand them?]he asks Reikan.
The Dragon immediately allows Malice to hear the conversation.
“Please Aerin, it’s not worth it,” Emrys says, his voice soft and weak.
Aerin turns her head, locking eyes with the white Wolf.
“You will be mine. No one will stop me from getting what I want.” She turns her head back to Elara. “Do you accept my challenge?”
Something cracks and snaps through the meadow, like the instant before a lightning strike. Magic drifts out of both Elara and Aerin, swirling in a cloud above the clearing. Elara’s silver and Aerin’s gold intertwined.
“Well, well. What a surprise,” Elara says, looking up to the sky. “It appears the magic has chosen for me, as I cannot deny the challenge of another Alpha.”
Malice barely has a moment to process before the two Wolves lunge at each other. Malice hangs onto every movement. Aerin fights with a grace he didn’t expect. Her blonde Wolf is lethal.
Elara lunges and Aerin dodges. Elara snarls and Aerin snarls right back, sharp teeth bared for everyone in the meadow to see. They clash again but both come back unscathed, an even pairing.
The white Wolf whimpers next to Malice. Malice casts him only a glance. He’s weak, holding his back leg up, but is standing to watch Aerin fight for him.
The two Wolves circle each other.
“You will die here,” Elara says, promise in her voice. She looks at the white Wolf. “Then I will mount the mutt over the stain of your blood, so he will always remember who he belongs to.”
Aerin’s responding growl is vicious, “You will never touch him again!”
Aerin is the one who lunges. The two Wolves roll, jaws snap, claws fly. There is a slight whimper, perhaps low enough only Malice hears before Aerin scrambles away.
Malice smells it immediately, the sickly-sweet scent of the Princess’s blood. It drips into the grass from a large gash across her left side. Fear and rage grip him, but Aerin’s gait remains steady and casual; it reminds him of her smile when she’s in on a secret.
The silver Wolf doesn’t know Aerin like Malice does. Elara sneers, proud of the wound she’s inflicted.
