“Of course. As you wish.”
Anassa’s disgust is a low growl in the back of my mind as we drag Stark and Cratos over to Tormun’s tent. Dozens of eyes are on us as we pass by humans and wolves.
One of the pairs along the way is distinctly Daemos, her wolf pitch black. I study her as we pass, noting her averted gaze at the sight of her Alpha being so humiliated.
Fucking traitor.
I bite my tongue so hard I taste blood.
The minutes are like hours as I drag Stark and Cratos behind. When we finally arrive at Tormun’s tent, their bodies slam painfully into the dirt in front of the entrance flaps in a show of uncaring cruelty.
“I’m so sorry,” I say through the bond.
Stark chuckles in his head, low and throaty.“This is nothing. Won’t even leave a bruise. Want to tell Anassa to give me a bite or two while you’re at it, actually leave a mark?”
“Shut up,” I respond affectionately.“And don’t underestimate these assholes. Be safe.”
“Same to you, my queen,” he thinks back at me.
I straighten, make a show of twisting my mouth in disgust as I gaze down at their trussed-up bodies. Then Anassa and I turn back to where Killian waits.
Behind me, I hear Tormun emerge from his tent and grunt out a laugh that sends goose bumps rippling over my skin. There’s somethingoffabout it that fills me with a deep unease.
“You’ve always thought too highly of yourself, Stark Therion,” he taunts, and one of the Bonded looking on has the nerve to laugh along. I close my eyes briefly against the sound of Tormun spitting, presumably in Stark’s face, then the dull thump of a body being kicked.
Anassa slows beneath me, every inch of her itching to turn and tear Tormun apart.
“Well, that ends today,” Tormun concludes. The sounds of bodies being dragged are unmistakable. Anassa and I force ourselves to stare straight ahead, moving forward resolutely, away from Stark and Tormun.
This was the plan.
Stick to the plan.
“Now,” I think urgently to Noemi and Stark.“Tormun has Stark, and they’re headed into his tent. Once he’s inside, wait until you think the odds are as good as they’re going to get, then turn the tables on him.”
“On it. You can drop the Kryptos power now. Don’t worry, Meryn,” Noemi assures me.“We’ll take care of him.”
I marvel at Noemi’s strength, going up against her own pack’s Alpha. Butthere’s no time to think about it before Anassa and I find ourselves back in front of Killian. I strain, holding on to a thread of my connection to both Stark and Noemi while turning my attention back outward, ready to receive any urgent messages from them.
Killian looks every inch the monarch: his lean and muscular frame clothed elegantly but simply in rich fabrics, his hands and face clean, freshly shaved. His expression is impassive, and to anyone who didn’t know him better, he’d seem the picture of control.
But I know him too well.
I know his tells, even after all the nights I’ve spent trying to forget everything about him.
How his jaw is tight with annoyance—probably directed at me, at my advantage sitting high on Anassa. How the fingers on his right hand twitch, eager and impatient.
And that other thing, the strange spasms around his eyes. A slight tightening and then loosening of the cords of his neck.
For all his bravado, having Alistair riding along in his head is wearing on him. I wonder just how often he loses control of the ancient Siphon, how often Alistair is in charge.
Killian gestures behind him, to the flaps of his own ostentatious tent. “Join me, darling. We can have lunch while we discuss our next steps.”
I shake my head. I’m not eager to go inside, as tent walls would hinder my and Anassa’s motion. Out in the open, we have more options. “I already ate.”
Killian’s face twists. For a moment, I think I can see Alistair winning the battle for control, but then his features settle. “Well? The Tears?” he says finally, and the shadows around us twitch erratically—his doing, not mine.
Stark has removed his shadowy “restraints” already. He and Noemi must be moving against Tormun—good. I let my control over my emotions, my magic, slacken, that tight focus in my head letting go.
