Page 78 of The Enemy to the Living
“Oh, of course we did,” Sorrel says, andthere’sthe viciousness I’m expecting. He rounds Celyn’s chair, drapes his arms over the top of it, and rests his chin on his hands. “What else did you expect from the fae?”
“He didn’t,” Celyn replies. He leans forward in his seat. “None of you are prepared for what we can unleash on this world. Not one.”
“You wolves are supposed to be our greatest enemies. Our best match.” Sorrel snorts, dark eyes shining with malice. “We should have not expected anything from a wolf not in touch with his wolf at all.”
“You’re going to kill me.”
“Eventually,” Sorrel says with an artful shrug. “We don’t want to, you know. It’s not about that.”
“It isn’t?”
His little fangs flash in the firelight. “Of course not. If we wanted to kill you wolves, we could slaughter you pack by pack. You’ve no idea how to fight back.”
Celyn reaches up and pats his twin’s arm. “It’s not about that. We want yourwolf.”
“You wanted Bryn’s, too.”
Sorrel and Celyn exchange a glance. Sorrel slinks around the side of Celyn’s chair and perches on the arm. “His wasn’t enough. There were a few before him, too. All those sad little lone wolves, with no one to look out for them.”
“Yours will be different,” Celyn says, easily picking up the thread. “You might have neglected your wolf, but he’s still part ofa pack. Still has a mate. There’s magic in that, and that’s what we need. All that magic to punch through the veil.”
“Punch through—” I shake my head. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s better that you don’t,” Sorrel says. He moves closer, and when he tips my head up with claw-tipped fingers, I swallow hard but don’t resist.
I could fight them, but I already know they’d win. I don’t have magic. I don’t even have my wolf, for all I feel a sudden stirring in my chest. It’s too late. I can’t beat them both. It’s all too late.
“We’ll honour one final request, of course,” Celyn says, and Sorrel frowns briefly, just a downward twitch of his lips.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Where do you want us to leaveyou? Outside your pack house or your mate’s house?”
“My—” For a brief moment, my heart stops. I know who he means. I can’tnotknow who he means. “You knew.”
“We’refae,” Sorrel says. “Of course we knew.”
Does it matter? Asher will be—he’ll be upset. Hurt. Drew, too, but maybe one of the others—
“I… I don’t know.”
“Our choice then,” Sorrel says, aiming a smirk over his shoulder, and before I can do anything—because that urge to fight is there now, suddenly rising as the fact I’m going to die truly dawns on me—he slams a hand against the centre of my chest and his magic surges inside.
It hurts. Pain gets its hooks in and pulls, and I feel the moment Sorrel’s magic wraps around my wolf and tries to tug him from my chest.No!I fight it, hands digging into the arms of the chair I’m sitting in, and for a brief, glorious moment, claws erupt from the ends of my fingers, gouging through the smooth wood.
“No!” I cry, and Celyn pushes from his chair, expression fraught. More magic sinks into me, pulling at my wolf, who’strying to cling to me, whimpering and snapping and clawing at what they wrap around him—
I don’t want this. I don’t want to be parted from him. I scream, and I promise that I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right—I’ll apologise to Drew and help my pack and, fuck, Asher’s mymate, but if keeping my wolf means never seeing him again, I’ll do that too—
With one final yelping howl, my wolf is torn from under my skin. My eyes snap open. Like that night with Bryn, I see the silvery magic in the air, claws trying to reach for me, trying to keep us together. Already pain is flooding every sense, the hollow feeling in my chest so much emptier and so much worse than I ever could have imagined.
“Hush now, little wolf,” Celyn murmurs. He moves his hands, dragging my wolf closer to him—and further from me.
I start to get up from the chair, but Sorrel pushes me back, a growl in his throat. “Get it away from him,” he snarls. “He is stronger than we thought.”
Not strong enough. Celynpulls, and my wolf is dragged firmly out of my reach. My head swims, body listing to one side, and I manage one final, pained groan before everything goes black.
Chapter Twenty-Five
