Page 57

Our time was up.

I dropped the Rogue and sprinted toward her. I barely registered her pale, wide-eyed face as I grabbed her hand, both of us sprinting away from the wolf.

We weren’t fast enough. The ground began to rumble.

“Get down!” I cried.

Cerise dropped, and I pinned her to the ground, shielding her with my body as a deafening boom shook the forest. Wood groaned as trees snapped, crashing to the ground. Hot flames scorched my back, and my teeth clenched so hard I felt my jaw crack. Cerise shrieked, and I pressed closer, determined to protect her from this. A fierce and unfamiliar wave of protectiveness coursed through me. It wasn’t Tavik this time—it was me. I had to keep her safe. She would not die. She could not die. I felt it in my very bones, resonating through my entire being. Cerise will not die.

Smoke and dirt swarmed us like a dust storm, stinging my wounds and making my eyes water. Cerise crammed her eyes shut, turning her head away to avoid inhaling. The air roared, and an anguished scream drifted on the wind, shrill and piercing. The sound melted into a tormented howl, echoing around us. I found myself peering over my shoulder to gaze at the luminescent white mist swirling among the trees. It quivered, the tormented sounds growing louder. My throat felt tight as I watched the distorted soul rising higher and higher, knowing it would never find peace. It would never find release.

The wolf had been forcibly ripped from the man, never to be reunited. Gradually, the haunting cries faded, and the mist vanished. On the ground, the dismembered remains of the white wolf lay in bloody stumps, still emitting steam from the force of the rupture.

“Oh gods,” Cerise whimpered, following my gaze.

Slowly, I climbed off her to face the carnage. The smell of charred flesh stung my nostrils, and my eyes burned. The echoing howl still resonated in my mind, making emotion swell in my throat. The pain of that sound was so potent that I felt tears pricking my eyes. I wanted to fall to my knees and sob for this lost soul that I could not save.

Instead, I took Cerise’s arm again. “We can’t be here when the fae come to investigate.”

“Alaric, you’re hurt.” She gestured to my torso.

I glanced down and wished I hadn’t. Shredded flesh, torn muscle, and the stark white of bone stood out against my chest. Crimson blood was everywhere, gushing from the wound far too quickly. Not to mention the throbbing ache on my back from where the blast of the rupture had scorched me.

Shit. I wobbled, nearly falling over, but Cerise wrapped her arms around me, grunting from my weight as she kept me upright.

“It’s all right,” she rasped. “Stay with me. It’s all right.”

Her panicked reassurances were the last thing I heard before I lost consciousness.

Eighteen

THE WOLF

Ahazy fog enveloped my mind. The faint smell of charcoal met my nostrils. Pain lanced through my side, and I groaned.

“Alaric?” Cerise asked, sounding distant. Relief tinged her voice.

Slowly, my eyes opened, registering the setting sun peeking at me through the trees. I was lying on the ground, surrounded by leaves. Smoke from a burned-out fire churned in the air next to me. A swath of navy blue fabric had been draped over my waist and legs. I recognized the material from Cerise’s mantle; she must have used it to cover me. She knelt beside me, her expression taut with concern.

Shit. How long had I been unconscious?

I tried to sit up, but Cerise pressed a hand against my shoulder, easing me backward onto the forest floor. “Easy,” she said. “You lost a lot of blood.”

“I heal quickly,” I said. “Besides, they were Tavik’s injuries, not mine.”

Her brow furrowed. “There’s that name again. Tavik. Is that your wolf?”

Tavik stirred sleepily within me, awakened by his name on her lips. “Rest,” I urged him. “You need to heal.” I looked at Cerise and said, “My wolf is a separate part of me. Another entity. His name is Tavik. When one of us is injured, the quickest way to heal is to shift to our other form.”

“But his injuries were your injuries,” she said in confusion, gesturing to my chest. I followed her gaze and noticed the wound was covered in leaves held together by a sticky white substance. There were also leaves stuck to my back as well.

“Yes, when his injuries are more fatal, they affect me, too. But as long as they don’t kill me, the healing process can still do its job.” My voice was slow and careful as I took in another patch of goopy leaves attached to a laceration on my arm. My bewildered gaze met Cerise’s. “Did you… tend to my wounds?”

Her face flushed, and she crossed her arms, avoiding my gaze. “Well, I couldn’t just let you bleed out, could I?”

I stared at her in wonder, something hot and unfamiliar coiling in my chest. In a flash, the memories came back to me. The Rogue, tearing through Tavik’s flesh. My wolf, so wounded he couldn’t even communicate with me. Blood gushing freely from the open wound.

I would have needed stitches. It was a miracle I hadn’t died from blood loss. Cerise was right; even with my accelerated healing, it wouldn’t have mattered. The injuries had been too severe.