CHAPTER TWELVE
Vrogul
MyKteerroaredits fury in my chest, urging me onward—kill blood maim kill KILL—until my world had narrowed to the next enemy, the next threat.
I fought my way toward the rest of my warriors who stood with their backs to the loch, no escape…none intended. If we couldn’t push back the invaders from the loch’s shores, then our females and kitlings would be vulnerable.
Both of my brothers were there—Sevren must have returned while I was distracted by my Mating Heat—and Trevik and Parnak, and even Auld Garran. There were others lying on the ground, others I didn’t allow myself to look at too closely, lest they turned out to be friends or cousins. ‘Twas bad enough fighting an enemy who wore our colors, enemies who might be distant relatives.
Enemies who were only here because Callor didn’t think we were moving fast enough with the ore we owed him.
There was no way he could know about my plans to break away from the mainland Battleborn; we had only just made the decision. Nay, this was about teaching us—and his other septs—a lesson.
A lesson we couldn’t afford to lose.
And so I fought, cutting down males who might have otherwise been my friends, males I might have dined and drank with when I visited Callor, because of his greediness. I tried not to kill, despite myKteer’surging, but I didn’t give that order.
My warriors would have to protect themselves and their families the best they could.
My focus was on the battle, and myKteer’sinstincts kept me alive more than once…but before long, I felt a tug of a different kind.
It didn’t take me long to identify it.
Rowena.
She hadn’t obeyed my order to get to safety and I wasn’t completely surprised. In fact, she was coming closer, and now my fury was tinged with fear. My Mate was joining me in battle, and although I knew she was capable, I was still terrified for her.
The only way my death today would be acceptable was if she lived. Lived to protect our people.
And then she was there.
Rowena came through the press of bodies like something primal and purposeful, both blades out, blood on her hands I prayed wasn’t hers, and where her braid had been there was naught but ragged, jaw-length ends. Something in my chest seized so hard I nearly missed the blade coming at my left side.
Nearly.
I turned it aside and looked at her again. She met my eyes for exactly one breath—and then she stepped past me and took the warrior coming at my unguarded back as casually as if she’d been fighting at my side for years.
Her back found mine.
I had no words. I wasn’t certain I had breath to speak. So I did the only thing that made sense.
I trusted her.
I stopped watching my left side and gave it to her entirely and felt her do the same. She was smaller, faster, built for close quarters and quick decisions, and Ifelther working—the way she redirected rather than blocked, the way she used an opponent’s size against them, the way she never stood still long enough to be targeted properly.
She was magnificent.
Pride swelled in my chest, pride which had naught to do with myKteerand everything to do with her. I loved her and I would die at her side protecting our people.
She was a Battleborn of Islay, and we were blessed by the gods below to have her!
When she stepped, I stepped with her. When she dropped, I moved over her without looking down, already drivingback the warrior she’d evaded. She was back on her feet before I finished the thought. We traded the space between us back and forth like a conversation, tightening and expanding as the fight demanded, and I found the dizzying joy of having my Mate at my back.
Not someone to protect.
Someone to fightwith.
We cleared the enemies around us, and without speaking, stepped up to engage those who were harassing Trevik, taking them down as well. Aye, we were a force to be reckoned with, but ‘twas hopeless, because the enemy kept coming.
