Page 3 of Savage Sacrifice
The ache thrumming through my chest as I fail to fight against the magic is unbearable, but I don’t stop or ease up. I can’t. It’s ingrained into me at this stage.
“Foster Graham.”
The guy to my right grunts as he steps forward, the move out of his control.
My jaw tightens as my irritation reaches new heights.
How are they already calling the next name when my sister is still on her knees, crying her heart out, while my fucking mate remains lifeless beside her. We need time to deal with this, to bring her back, to… fuck.
Mourn.
My face scrunches up in distaste, the word like ash on my tongue.
Two women appear, placing their hands on my sister’s shoulders, trying to move her out of the way, but before I can combust with rage, Blaze swoops in, tucking his arm behind her knees and bracing his other arm around her back.
She’s in his arms a moment later, face tucked into the crook of his neck as he stares at me.
There are no words passed between us, there are none to say, but he quickly moves out of the center, his steps too hurried for them to be actions of his own.
More magic?
Fuck if I know.
With my nostrils flared and the tingling of something at the back of my eyes, I make a mental note to begrudgingly thank him for being delicate with her as I turn my attention back to Polaris, but she’s… gone.
What the hell?
My eyes dart around the room desperately, but I come up empty. My heart races so fast I’m certain I’m going to fucking die. My instinct is to turn to my brothers, my pack, but I can’tbring myself to see Tatum so shaken again. It only leaves me more broken, and one of us has to hold it together right now.
I’m Alpha. That means it has to be me.
An arrow glows on Foster’s forearm, and I plead for the same to appear on my skin so I can kill the prick and get the hell out of here. Instead, the husky wolf snarl that follows isn’t my own, but that of Dylan Daniels.
I barely hear the noise before he’s launching through the air, barreling into the witch with more ease than I expect, and before I can even take a breath, his teeth are at his throat.
The witch falls to the floor, tattered and torn, while the wolf makes a run for it.
Fucker. That’s what I wanted to do.
I shake my head, emotions swirling inside of me, but I swallow them down, hating the burning at the back of my throat. I’m quickly distracted by the calling of my name.
“Lincoln James.”
My movements are stilted, the magic working overtime along my tense body until I’m brought to a stop in the center of the room. The moment I’m where they want me, the hold slackens and I’m no longer a puppet under their command.
A snarl tears from my lips as I attempt to take a step toward the direction Blaze went with Minnie, but my muscles don’t respond.
Fuckers.
Heat flickers along my forearm, distracting me, and I look down to see my mark take shape. Slowly, a spear appears, pointing from my wrist to my elbow, with a fletching on either side. My lips purse at the sight of it, but I truly don’t care, not when my sister needs me, and not when I’m still reeling at the loss of my mate.
The ache grows in my chest at the thought of Midnight, and it takes everything in me to mask the pain that threatens to burst out of me.
Maybe I should just let my kin win, let them bring me to my knees so I can be with her instead.
A curse ripples through the room and my eyes track the sound until they land on a replica marking on my blood kin’s forearm.
Fuck.
