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The beast stumbled back, fumbling as it shook its head. “You would dare…”
Fern was there above him a second later, her mace arcing down. If he didn’t move, she’d kill him with that blow. Kill her mate.
No, no, no.
Misting was Lunara’s sole option.
She abandoned her whip and leapt through the space between, arms wrapping around her friend. The Fae thrashed and snapped her teeth, shrieking. Only then—enveloped in the ether and its strange warp of time—did she notice the group stalking closer to take Fern’s place, every last one of them ready to pounce. Hedda and Faldir, his own twin shadows, with axes raised. Pet and Sorcha circling. More creatures she didn’t know, some his brethren, just behind them.
She couldn’t let this happen. Whoever was hurt, or worse, the perpetrator would be devastated.
A blink and they stood in Straelon’s Great Hall, upsetting the Demons’ supper. She dumped Fern on the ground and went back, not staying long enough to hear the violent curses her friend was surely screeching.
Back through the unseen places of the world, just in time to hear him roar, “I know what you are! Face me, you celestial whore! Reap what your forebears have sown!”
Hedda and Faldir were next. Then Thaddeus. Magnus. The others. One by one, she took them home. Took them to safety. The few unknown Wolflords could figure out how to come back to their realm later.
Everyone’s going to be right fucking pissed anyway, so what does it matter?
Exactly.
Barely a minute passed before she was standing in the ravaged field again, only her and Brand—the beast—left standing.
“There she is,” it purred. “At last.”
Lunara resisted the urge to attack, Faldir’s training ringing in her head. She needed to unbalance her opponent, find its weakness, without hurting Brand.
“Who are you?” she demanded, hoping to throw it off. “What are you?”
That’s it. Get it talking.
His head tilted, examining her like a curious animal. “Nothing you could quite comprehend, but…” The black on his face bled further, flowing down like teardrops. “I am the ease in your eyes when you step into the shade. The snuffing of a candle. The final setting of a sun. I am that glorious winking out of harsh light, little one. I am, and yet…I am not yet what I am.” He took a slow step closer. “More importantly, however, is that you are not able to answer these questions for yourself.”
Closer still, his movements almost imperceptible.
Sisters spare you from anymore cracked, contemptible poets. Who are these fucking people?
Who, indeed.
“I am Lunara. Just Lunara.”
Her titles didn’t matter—they weren’t what made her who she was.
“Hmm.” He stroked her cheek and Lunara’s stomach plummeted, completely unaware of how he’d gotten so close. “That is but your name, not who made you. Who gave you gifts you don’t even realize you possess. Not what starlight runs through these mortal veins.”
The fatigue was almost instant, her exhaustion in the caves suddenly making twisted sense, but she didn’t stop him. Couldn’t.
“There, see? You’re beginning to learn.”
“I don’t understand.”
It was cruel, really, how her mind distorted the scene. How desperate she was for Brand’s touch that she stood still and let it drain her. Let it tease her bottom lip with her mate’s thumb, leaning in as if to kiss her.
“You needn’t. I have understanding enough for the both of us.”
Ooh! Self-righteous bastard!
The ire cleared her thoughts just enough. “W-what is your name, then?” she asked, still looking for something to use.
