Page 34 of Pack Rage
As if I’d summoned him, a guard did just that.No,twoguards,I thought, as the door swung open and I listened to males speaking. Two guards, and two others…
“You should have given my father your pledge when he gave you the opportunity, Becker,” Finnick said, his voice loud enough to hear clearly even through the cloth bag. “Maybe you just needed some time to consider it?”
“Fuck off, Finnick.” Brand’s reply was a deep growl.
Finnick laughed bitterly. “I’ll fuck off then, and leave you to think. When Father gets back, you’ll have another chance.”
“If he’s alive,” an unfamiliar voice broke in.
“What do you mean?”
“I’d swear that’s not where we left Dimitrivich, Alpha Heir. The bag, I mean. And… there’s blood on the floor, and the silver?—”
Finnick cut him off. “Then that will be an inducement, won’t it? I wonder… who would win in a fight? The Alpha of Mountain, or the broken boogeyman? Maybe we’ll find out.”
“Alpha Heir, the cameras down here. They’re still not working. We won’t be able to tell if—” The door shut with a loud bang, and the rest of what the guard was saying was lost. The room was silent except for the sound of my breathing, and Brand’s. The silence stretched for a few minutes, until an aggrieved sigh split the quiet.
“Right, get out of that thing then and let’s see what state you’re in.” Rough hands moved the bag, and light entered the opening at my head as he widened the sack with his hands. I slid free and propped myself on the wall, glad to know that I had enough energy to move even that much. Even if this one was on Flor’s side, my wolf didn’t want to show any more weakness than necessary.
“So, we meet at last—” I began, but when my gaze rose to meet his, I was stunned into silence. Silver orbs shone on me, into me, it seemed. I’d heard of his moonblessed eyes, but seeing them was a different matter. Power practically flowed from them. No, itdid.A clean trickle of energy lit up my face, sharpand cold as a mountain stream in early spring, and flowed across my skin and into it, giving my magic enough of a boost to heal some small cuts along my cheekbone.
“By the moon, you’re a mess,” he grunted, lowering himself to sit cross-legged in front of me while I stared. He had silver manacles on his wrists—not handcuffs, but the type of devices I’d seen used on feral Alphas twice before, and on more than one bear shifter when they still existed. His dark eyes were red-rimmed, the skin beneath them almost purple with exhaustion. I knew the silver restraints must be hurting him, but before I could even consider if I had enough power to offer my assistance, he reached into his sleeve and withdrew a small roll of foil. With quick, deft movements, he unrolled it. Carefully, he placed the tape along the inside of the cuffs, until the silver no longer came in contact with his skin.
“What magic is that?”
“The magic of technology,” he grunted as he relaxed, those moon-bright eyes spearing me. Judging me. We sat for a long moment like that, the electricity in the wall at my back humming in my mind as I harvested it, his gaze growing brighter and brighter, until the room didn’t need any other light.
I was transfixed. But, as the minutes piled up, wisps of an unusual feeling began to dance through my mind. It wasn’t shame, not precisely. It reminded me of how I’d felt as a young boy, when my mother had tried to teach me a simple spell, and I’d overshot, destroying a favorite clay pitcher in the kitchen. As if I had disappointed a teacher, and needed a chance to try again. To do better.
The feeling grew until, to my surprise and his, I dropped my gaze.
He breathed what might have been a curse. I swallowed and stared at my filthy, blood-speckled bare feet, shocked at my instinctive response. I’d stared down stronger shifters than thisone, but something about meeting his gaze felt like committing some unknown sacrilege.
As if the Moon Goddess was there, just behind his eyes, telling me in my mother’s voice to try again. To be careful with my power.
“Tell me why I should let you live,” Brand said at last. When I didn’t speak, he went on. “Explain to me why I should let you be in Flor’s world, inanyway. Give me a reason to… accept you. Help me understand how a creature like you could deserve her.”
“I don’t,” I said truthfully, my voice raw. “I don’t deserve her. None of us do. I cannot undo my past. All I can tell you is that I will never harm her. If she chooses not to accept me, I will never touch her, only watch from the shadows and protect her.”
After another long moment, he spoke again. “The histories say you killed your first wife. How can I be certain you’ve changed?”
Rage was a source of power as well, and for a split second, I met his eyes, my own probably glowing as red as his were silver-white. “Ineverhurt Anya. I could never have. She was the mate to the half of my soul that came from my mother. My witch mate.” When he didn’t ask what I meant, I wondered if he’d heard of that before.
“When I met Anya, when she marked me, my magic expanded so fast, my soul felt as if it might burst at the seams. Perhaps a crack did form then. My wolf… separated himself from me. He spoke to me, as if we were not one soul.” Brand blinked slowly, but stayed silent. “I’m not certain if I was born that way, or if my soul’s connection with an incredibly powerful witch caused it. But something inside me broke.”
I’d never imagined such a thing was possible, that a hybrid like me might have two mates, one for each half of their magic. It had never happened before, or again, from what I’d learned over the centuries. I wouldn’t have believed it was my fate… until I’dlost Anya, and stayed alive.Until my wolf had kept me that way, insisting that his mate would come to us, someday, if we waited.
“My father murdered her to punish me. I slaughtered him, and all the corrupt males of his pack, to avenge her.”
Finally, he spoke. “And then killed ten thousand more shifters, for what? More revenge?”
I closed my eyes, taking a shaky, deep breath. “You don’t understand. The pack structure there was as rotten as the packs on this continent were fast becoming, before Flor came into the world. Magic was used to kill and maim. Other forms of shifters were driven mad through curses and spells, until they had to be put down. Alphas gained a taste for power instead of protecting their vulnerable, and fancied themselves kings. I reminded them they were only mortal.” I pressed a hand to my chest, tempted to open my illicit bond with Flor, just to remind my wolf his mate—ourmate—was alive and well. “I may not have only killed the wicked… I was too far gone to the madness of grief to be certain every creature I killed was fully corrupt. But I never intentionally killed a child. I never knowingly killed a shifter female.”
The silence returned, heavier this time. But not as heavy as the large hand that landed on my arm, his grip firm and unyielding, yet not punishing. Not yet.
“You’ll need to help me kill one here,” Brand said.
I nodded, gratitude flooding me. “With pleasure.”
