Page 48 of Bullied Wolf Mate

“Hmm, that doesn’t seem like the best idea to me,” she mused. “For all I know, you might have some trick up your sleeve. I know you know more about what’s in there than you let on. I think I’ll stay out here and get to know Holly a bit better.”

“Your threats aren’t exactly subtle, you know that, right?” I asked.

“Subtle threats rarely get the same effect,” Inara said. “Now, get a move on.”

Orin shoved me into the portal ahead of him. The world flip-flopped along with my stomach as I stepped over the threshold, but it didn’t feel as bad as before.

The air was the same temperature as my skin, that sweet spot where you could barely feel the air around you. I could feel the crackling thrum of magic emanating from the objects surrounding us.

“Any idea where it is?” Orin asked, reminding me I wasn’t alone.

“Nope,” I answered.

He frowned. “Then let’s get moving.” He shoved me in the back, forcing me to stagger forward the way he’d done countless times when I was in captivity.

Heart pounding, I tried to think of a way out of the solution. I couldn’t let Orin find the diadem. There had to be something in The Trove that I could use to stop him and Inara. I pulled up my mental catalog of everything I knew was in The Trove. My family had a rough, though not exhaustive list. The diadem, obviously. There was also a staff that could remove any curse. A cursed box that made anyone who touched it insane, and shoes that forced the wearer to dance until they died. There were swords and daggers, but nothing I could grab with any subtlety. I would have to outthink him.

The problem was, I needed to find a way to stop Orin that didn’t put me or the baby in danger. My mind raced but came up blank.

At one point, Orin shoved me too hard. I stumbled, losing my footing and falling to the floor, toppling over an ornate weapon display. My eyes snagged on a dagger inches from my fingers, out of Orin’s line of sight. Hope fluttered in my chest for the first time since we had stepped inside.

“Get up,” Orin snapped, nudging me in the ribs. I took my time, moving slowly and slipping the dagger into my waistband next to the other object I had taken from Mark’s house.

Maternity clothes, it turned out, were fantastic for concealing things.

We kept walking, Orin behind me, not letting me stop for even a second as we wandered through the space, looking for the mythical diadem.

Then I saw it. It rested on its own podium, the gold circlet encrusted in rubies. It lay there almost as if waiting for us. Each jewel looked like a drop of crimson blood. I could feel the power and magic crackling off it, so intense and potent that it drowned out everything else in the room.

Orin saw it at the same time I did. He gave a triumphant smirk as his eyes locked on the elegant gold and ruby diadem.

“Excellent,” he said. He reached out to take it, then stopped.

“What?” I asked innocently.

He turned, frowning as he studied the podium. He turned back to me, a knowing and smug look spreading across his face.

“You do it,” he ordered.

I hesitated, glancing at the podium and making a horrible realization. I could sense the crackling magic around the diadem and its stand, but some of it felt warped, corrupted. Almost sinister.

There was a curse around it. Whoever took the diadem off the podium would be inflicted. I didn’t know precisely what would happen, but I didn’t want to find out.

I stayed rooted to the spot, folding my arms as I glared up at him.

He scowled. “Take the diadem and hand it to me, or I’ll make sure you watch all your friends die,” he hissed.

I exhaled, jaw clenching as I knew he was telling the truth. Taking a deep breath, I reached out with one hand and grabbed the diadem.

My hand erupted in pain the instant my fingers wrapped around the diadem. I screamed in pain as I lifted it off its stand. I watched as blackness began to encrust my fingertips, creeping upward.

Even as I crouched in pain, Orin snatched the diadem, now safe to handle, from my hand. He grinned, marveling at it. I forced myself to my feet, my hand slipping to the dagger.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

Before he knew what was happening, I lunged, the dagger arcing through the air. The knife plunged into his chest. His eyes went wide as he staggered backward. His fingers tightened on the diadem, but I knew before he hit the floor that he was gone.

I panted, staring at his body. What I had done began to hit home. I wanted to be horrified, to vomit, to feel a shred of remorse for this man who had helped keep me captive, but I couldn’t. Even if I’d wanted to, I didn’t have time.

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