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Edith, the most powerful and strangest witch I have ever met, seizes on the distraction, summoning wicked blue balls of fire in her hands, circling them for a moment, then tossing them at the fae, her red mouth drawn into a shrieking laugh.
My head clears enough of the ringing fogging my brain to take advantage of the chaos surrounding me. Dodging the minefield, I return to Theo, still lying in the middle of it all, still encircledby the rocks and candles and incense from her abomination of a ritual.
The carved bone boline is still there, discarded next to him, the one she held raised above his chest. The wicked blade catches my eye, the strong magic imbued in the relic calling to me like a siren's song with its promise of power. But the pull to Theo is stronger.
With gentle hands that belie the adrenaline and berserker rage running through me, I slip them under his shoulders and knees, cradling him against me. The knot that had tangled itself up inside me loosens as his slight weight settles in my arms, but only barely.
Only enough to take a shallow breath and make my,our, harried escape from the room.
Butshespots me.
Her screech once again howls through my very being. A pulse of power waves through the air, like a rip in the current trying to pull me to her.
Her magic is strong.So fucking strong. Only the protection spell I weaved over myself before we entered the cottage and the primordialneedto protect Theo grant me the strength to move through each agonizing step away from the fae and her power until I am far enough to slip from her hold.
Free at last, I run from the room, catching Edith’s eye as I leave. Her white face is ferocious, smeared with blood, sweat, and dirt from the herb jars she exploded when she burst into the room.
She is always one for drama.
There are growls behind me, but I refuse to look back, instead flipping Theo over my shoulder in a fireman's carry, freeing myself to run faster.
I want to stay and help my friends, but Theo needs to get out. Every instinct I have burns within me to get him somewhere safe.
The magic pulsating through the air has time, existence itself, feeling like molasses, completely unreal.
All I know is that he still hasn’t moved—I still haven't felt him breathe—but I need to hope. Faith is the only thing keeping me moving, keeping that caged beast inside of me from unleashing unchecked destruction upon us all. My berserker side, the brutal strength and lust for blood, is already rattling my sanity. This crazed need to make Theo safe is shaking the last vestiges of my mental strength.
I make it to the next room, the small antechamber we’d entered through earlier. In here, reality no longer feels warped and twisted, but there is no time for relief.
My stomach drops as I run into Caelan dragging a healthy but haunted-looking man who can only be Tor behind him. Tor’s beautiful purple face cracks into devastation, tears pooling in his bloodshot, icy blue eyes, when he spies his brother slung over my shoulder.
“Is he—?” His voice is hoarse, like he can’t get the words out around the pain.
I grimace against the hard lump in my throat. I cannot tell him that I have no idea, that I may be carrying his dead brother. Not when I can’t even face that myself. “Barely.” The lie falls from my lips easily. “Come with me, I am taking him—”
There is a shriek from Edith in the other room, and I duck instinctively.
Fuck this.
The thing inside meroarsto fucking go, and so I listen, slamming the final door open and jumping down the wooden steps into the unnaturally warm sunlight, running as fast as I can away from the mayhem raging in the cottage.
I run until we clear the maze of overgrown, monstrous flowers. I run until my legs are screaming and my lungs are blazing. I run until my instincts tell me I am clear, free to finally collapse, my blood burning every raised vein in my body.
I fall to my knees, sliding Theo around my body to cradle him gently to me like the most precious of jewels. Still in my enlarged berserker form, my red-veined hands look monstrous against his delicate body. But I let myself hold him for just a moment and bask in the feel of him in my arms. His scent, sweet like honey, wraps around me, invading the core of my being, latching on, settling in, taking root.
The enormity of it all floors me, my gut bottoming out as I place him on the soft bedding of grass and leaf litter covering the Woods floor with trembling arms.
Mine!
That thing inside of me screeches. More primal than my fae instincts, it rages inside of me to take Theo andrun, run further, hide, keep him safe, and claim him for myself.
Instead, I sit back on my heels, taking one deep breath after another, forcing them into my quivering lungs, steadying the buzz under my skin.
Mates are common practice amongst beings. A stronger bond than human marriages, most being species mate for life—pairing off on instinct or love or choice, they are bound by magic.
Shifters are generally known for mating more instinctively, fae less so, often choosing to mate for love or power. Beings of all kinds fall along the whole spectrum in between. There are even some beings, such as fauns, whose traditions arenotto form permanent mating bonds.
Maybe it’s my berserker heritage making this feral, greedy flame flare to life.
