It’s the same impossible emerald light I saw during the bonding ritual. The flames form a wall between me and the remaining coven members, and through it, I hear screaming. And Rowan’s snarls.
Thank the gods he’s okay, but…
What the fuck is that?
Sean’s voice, weak and pained, echoing through the bond. I feel the others’ confusion, too.
A shadow passes overhead.
Massive.
And the ground is shaking beneath my feet as something lets out an otherworldly shriek.
I don’t stop to look.
I run. Not away from whatever it is that’s distracting the remnants of the coven, but toward Killian, who’s somehow managed to hold off a werewolf on his own for all this time.
I feel him in my chest, even now, but the bond is strained. I don’t know if it’s because he’s injured, or something even worse.
A strange warmth surges against my chest and I look down, realizing the pendant Micah gave me is glowing again. It levitates off my collarbone and the needle spins before pointing due east.
Toward Killian.
It has to be.
Guess this thing wasn’t just a romantic gimmick after all.
My legs burn as I sprint across the meadow, dodging bodies and blast marks and the scorched circles of earth. The bond pulls me forward like a compass needle, guiding me toward Killian, toward the terrible sounds of combat that haven’t stopped.
The others are coming behind me. Sean and Micah. Rowan is still trapped on the other side of that fire wall, fighting like hell. I feel his elation as his fangs sink into a witch’s throat through the bond and a shiver runs down my spine.
Whatever that creature is, for some reason, it’s not targetinghim.
I crest a small rise and see them.
Wolf and werewolf, locked together in a tangle of fur and teeth and blood. They’re both wounded, both slowing and running on fumes. Killian’s black fur is matted with red. The werewolf’s neck hangs at a wrong angle like a broken toy, but it keeps fighting, keeps trying to tear my mate apart.
They lunge at each other one final time.
I see Killian’s jaws close around the werewolf’s throat.
I see the werewolf’s claws sink into Killian’s shoulder.
They both go down hard.
“NO!”
The scream tears out of me and I’m running again, faster than I knew I could move, sliding to my knees in the blood-soaked grass beside Killian’s massive form.
His fur is soaking wet. There’s so much blood. His eyes are closed, his breathing shallow and wrong.
“No, no,no…” I press my hands against the wound in his side, trying to stop the bleeding, to remember every healing spell I’ve ever learned. Green light flickers between my fingers. “Stay with me. Killian, stay with me.”
His eyes briefly flicker open, but he doesn’t respond. I feel him fading. Not gone, not yet, but slipping away like water through my fingers.
I don’t think about the werewolf lying nearby, presumably dead. Don’t even think about how it scarred me, or how the sight of it has haunted my nightmares for three years. I just stroke Killian’s fur with one hand while the other presses against his wound, pouring every scrap of magic I have into keeping him alive.
“You don’t get to die,” I tell him, my voice cracking. “You hear me? You don’t get to show me what love can be and then leave me.”
