A hand clamps down on my wrist, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, and I twist desperately, trying to keep hold of the knife. My elbow connects with something soft – a grunt tells me I've found someone's ribs – but there are too many of them, too many hands grabbing at me.
"Little bitch cut me!"
Blood spatters the forest floor, bright red against the fallen leaves, and I feel a vicious satisfaction even as rough hands seize my arms. I drive my knee upward, aiming for anything vulnerable, and catch one of them somewhere that makes him double over with a strangled curse.
But it's not enough. It was never going to be enough.
My knife clatters to the ground as someone wrenches my arm behind my back, pain shooting up to my shoulder and making my vision waiver. I bite down on a scream, refusing to give them the satisfaction, but when a second hand joins the first, twisting my other arm back, a choked sound escapes me anyway.
"Hold still, witch!"
The rope is coarse against my wrists, burning as they yank it tight. I struggle anyway, throwing my weight forward, trying to break free even as my shoulders strain against their sockets. One of them backhands me – not hard enough to knock me unconscious, but enough to make stars explode behind my eyes.
"None of that now," Arcas sneers, breathing hard. There's a long, shallow cut across his forearm where my blade found its mark, and his eyes burn with fury. "You'll want to save your strength."
They drag me backward until my shoulders hit rough bark. The tree is old and thick, and when they loop more rope around my waist, pinning me to the trunk, I know there's no breaking free. The bark digs through my dress, scratching at my skin, but that's the least of my concerns.
"What do you want?" I demand, though my voice comes out shakier than I'd like.
"The same thing we've always wanted," he says, wiping blood from his arm with a grimace. "To rid this place of monsters. All of them."
He nods toward the trapped wolf, which has been watching our struggle with wide, terrified eyes. "That one's just bait. We know there's something bigger out there. Something that's been protecting you."
My blood turns to ice. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't you?" His smile is all teeth. "Strange how you knew that wolf's name. Strange how you've been living alone in that cottage for months without so much as a scratch on you, when everyone else who ventures too deep into these woods winds up missing or dead."
They know. Somehow, they know.
"You're going to call it," he continues, settling down on a fallen log like he has all the time in the world. "Your monster. And when it comes for you..." He pats the crossbow at his side. "We'll be ready."
The trapped wolf whimpers, a sound that tears at my heart. In the distance, so faint I might be imagining it, I hear something else. A howl, low and mournful.
No. Gray, please. Don't come. Don't come for me.
But I know she will.
CHAPTER 7
Gray
I’m goingto kill them all for hurting my mate, and it will be slow. Slow and agonizing so they can feel every single pain I’ve felt and she’s felt her entire life. I’m not sure if I’ll even be able to hold back enough to get those two lifetimes of suffering in.
A low snarl rips from my throat as I slink closer, the scent of my mate’s blood filling my nostrils. My claws gouge deep runnels in the dirt as I prowl toward the low chatter of voices. The closer I get, the angrier I am, not only at the humans but at myself. I had followed my mate—Maris, they had called her, and it lacked the inflection of an insult so I get the sense it’s her true name—to the festival, and for hours it had seemed like everything would be all right.
I could sense her reluctance to be with the crowd, but the brave soul she is, she had muddled through, and pride warms my chest at the sight of her hiding as much food as possible like a little squirrel saving up for winter. Soon enough I will be able to provide for her fully, but I don’t want to push her into leaving the only home she’s ever known before she’s ready. She seemedto be enjoying the gathering well enough. Then she had followed this group into the forest, and everything had fallen apart.
A nearly soundless snarl rips from my throat as I slink closer, my eyes locked on Maris, taking care to remain hidden by the bushes and trees. The scent of my mate’s blood fills my nostrils with each breath, enough for red to sparkle in my vision, but I force myself not to attack.
Not yet.
I must be patient.
For her.
I force myself to breathe. Maris is injured, yes, but not fatally. There’s not enough blood for her to be in danger of bleeding out. There’s a dark patch of blood on her dress, just above her hip, but with her arms bound to the tree I can’t tell how badly she is favoring it. There are scratches and bruises on her face, more bruises where the sleeves of her gown are hiked, but she’s still standing. Her expression is defiant and furious, beautiful in its own way. I have never loved her more, never been prouder.
Her eyes widen and I freeze, muscles shivering as I instinctively shrink deeper into the bushes. Her eyes are locked on me, unblinking. Her full lips part, then press together. She doesn’t scream, but nor does she look away, even as the other humans chatter away.
