I press my hands against Gunnar’s mangled flesh, channeling magic through my fingertips until they burn white-hot. The edges of the wound crawl toward each other, blood vessels knitting beneath my trembling palms. My vision swims, darkness creeping in from the corners as I pour more of myself into him than I can afford.
When I finally pull away, the gash has sealed into an angry red seam. It’s still raw, but no longer bleeding. With his accelerated shifter healing, he should live.
I take a stumbling step backwards and hit someone’s large chest. A strong hand clamps over my upper arm, holding me upright and captive at the same time. For a moment I think it’s Fox, but then the smell and feeling is all wrong.
“Didn’t I tell you? She’s a fucking witch!” Viktor yells, shaking me violently.
There’s a chorus of growls and I know I should be scared, but it’s difficult to think about anything except how I can barely keep my eyes open.
Suddenly Fox is there, yanking me back out of Viktor’s grip and shoving me behind him. “Don’t fucking touch her.”
“She’s a witch!” Viktor screams again, his finger jabbing toward me like a weapon. “You all saw it! We have laws. We don’t tolerate magic here.”
“We also don’t harm mates,” a voice that sounds like Luka yells from somewhere in the crowd.
“I don’t believe they’re really mated.” Viktor’s lips curl into a sneer, his eyes sliding from me to Fox. “Everyone knows we cannot form those bonds anymore, and if they did, then doesn’t it prove he was always more Fae than shifter?”
I watch as the accusation ripples through the crowd. Wolves shuffle nervously around us, and I hear several gasps punctuating the whispers that grow louder by the second.
“If you even look at her again, I’ll fucking kill you,” Fox says, the calm in his tone almost eerie as compared to Viktor’s spitting rage.
“You liked Dyaspora that much?” Viktor sneers. “Ready to go back there so soon?”
“All I saw was her healing one of ours,” a female voice yells suddenly. “Gunnar is practically a child. I don’t have a problem with someone who protects our children.”
There’s a rippling murmur of agreement, and I smile weakly, recognizing that voice as Inga’s.
“Nor do I,” Kai adds, backing her up. “And I don’t give a fuck about the queen’s laws no matter who they’re aimed at.”
“Your opinion doesn’t matter. You’re not even an alpha,” Viktor says, voice dripping with menace.
I watch in horror as several wolves nod their agreement with Viktor, their faces hardening as they move to stand beside him, forming a menacing wall. One man spits on the ground near my feet, and another cracks his knuckles, the sound sharp as breaking bones in the tense air.
Then, somehow, everything erupts at once. One moment there’s tense silence, the next—Viktor launches himself at me with a feral snarl, his face contorting as his teeth elongate before my eyes.
I barely have time to wonder if something was said mind-to-mind that might have set him off, before everything blurs. True to his promise, Fox lunges, his shoulder connecting with Viktor’s chest in mid-air with a sickening thud.
At the same moment, my vision swims, darkness creeping in at the edges as my legs threaten to give out beneath me. Strong arms catch me from behind. I smell leather and citrus and don’t have to look to know it’s Jett. “I’ve got you,” he says. “Come on, we need to get the fuck out of the way.”
Normally, I would argue. I’d want to help, but right now I can barely speak let alone hold a sword. I let Jett drag me out of the way as Fox collides with Viktor again. The air around them shimmers, bones cracking and reforming as fur erupts across their skin.
Where two men stood heartbeats ago, now two massive wolves circle each other. Fox’s white coat gleams like fresh snow even in the dim light, while Viktor’s is his complete opposite—a gray so dark it’s nearly black. Their snarls vibrate through my chest as they lunge, teeth flashing, tearing into each other with primal fury.
Then, all at once, everyone is fighting. There are more wolves growling and snarling at each other than I’ve ever seen since arriving here. Hardly anyone draws their swords, as they didn’t have their weapons with them during dinner, but those few who have blades are evenly matched by the wolves’ razor-sharp teeth.
A flash of movement catches my eye—Connell’s retreating form as he bolts from the camp, running almost gleefully.
“He’s escaping,” I manage to say, the words slurring slightly.
Jett doesn’t seem to care. His grip on me tightens, his attention remaining fixed on my swaying body rather than the fleeing pirate.
“We need to move,” he whispers urgently, his knife glinting in his free hand as he half-carries me toward the tents.
My head swims, but I force my legs to move, helping to stumble out of the way of the brawling wolves.
We’ve nearly escaped the center of camp when a flash of russet fur streaks between two canvas tents, its teeth flashing as it heads straight for us. Jett’s boots skid in the mud and he yanks me sideways, barely able to get out of the way while maneuvering my nearly limp body.
The wolf’s ears flatten against its massive skull. Its yellow eyes lock on mine, pupils narrowing to pinpoints. I feel it’s hot breath on my face as it lunges for my throat.
