Page 124 of Aryn

He huffs a laugh as he leans back into me. “Keep that up and we’re going to scandalize Brihn’s guards.”

“Let them watch,” I murmur, pressing a kiss below his ear. “Maybe they’ll learn something useful.”

Cato shivers and glances over his shoulder. “You’re needy in the mornings.”

“Oh, is it me that’s needy in the mornings? Because if memory serves, I’m the one who keeps getting woken up to being stabbed, while you’re the one who can’t function when all your blood has gone south.”

He groans. “It’s biology, darlin’. Can’t fight nature.”

“No, I suppose not,” I agree, my voice dropping lower. “Though I have to wonder if it’s nature that makes you beg me so sweetly and—”

Brihn’s sharp whistle cuts through the air, instantly killing the playful mood. “There’s movement to the right. Stay alert.”

My arms tighten around Cato’s waist as I scan the dark line of trees. Shadows move along the forest edge, but there isn’t enough light to make out anything specific. Nymir shifts nervously beneath us, tossing her mane as she senses whatever waits in the darkness.

For a moment, it’s deathly quiet, then a whistle slices through the tense air. An arrow buries itself in Lillith’s thigh, and she roars with a sound so primal it raises the hair on the back of my neck. She leaps off her mount with a heavy thud and turns to Taryn, her eyes solid black.

“In the wagon,” she snarls before yanking the arrow out of her leg. Blood pours down her pants, but she doesn’t seem to notice as she lets out another battle cry and charges straight for the woods.

“Lillith, wait!” I shout as a few figures step into the light, but she doesn’t slow. One of the warriors tilts his head toward the sun, and Cato freezes in front of me. I know he recognizes the jagged scar running from temple to jaw, just like I know he’s recalling the stories of the way he almost killed me.

Before I can react, Cato swings his leg over Nymir’s neck and drops to the ground, pulling his machete from its scabbard.

“Cato!” I bellow, but he’s already running, boots kicking up snow as he charges with a roar of pure, unrestrained rage.

The sylvaren clomp heavily between their feet, and Nymir bucks as she senses the danger. Brihn calls out orders to his soldiers, assigning two to stay near the wagon with Taryn and Cameron, but I don’t wait for backup. I leap down and sprint after Cato, blade in hand and heart hammering in my chest.

Lillith leads the way, moving so fast she’s a blur of pumping limbs. Another arrow whistles toward her, but she dodges it. When someone launches a spear, she catches it midair with a wicked smile, then slams into the first archer. She stabs him through the eye with his own arrow so hard it pins him to the tree behind him, then hurls the spear. It slices through the gut of the next fighter and goes clean through, stabbing into the chest of the one behind him.

Cato charges into the fight like a freight train, colliding with the scarred warrior in a crash of steel and fury. He’s pure rage and power, uncaring that he’s smaller than his opponent, and swings his machete in wide, brutal arcs. The force of his attack surprises the Bhotan enough to force him back a few steps.

Cato blames himself for leaving me behind. He’s shared his rage and helplessness in late night confessions, and I see that fury in every move he makes. Pent-up fear and anger fuel his strikes, his weapon becoming an outlet for the guilt he never shed.

I try to get close, but they’re too tangled and moving too fast. Their blades clash inches apart, too close for me to intervene without risking Cato. I circle them, knocking back any warrior who attempts to provide backup. Sword readied, I wait for an opening that never comes.

Cato roars and drives forward, slamming his shoulder into his opponent’s chest. There’s enough force in the hit to take them both down. They roll in the snow, and my heart stops as the Bhotan gets on top with his dagger raised. Cato barely dodges a strike, then headbutts him hard enough to crack bone. Their positions flip, and Cato rains down punches with his free hand, pinning the warrior’s sword arm with his knee.

“You almost took him from me,” Cato screams as he brings his machete down. The blow misses his neck, but the force still drives the blade into the warrior’s shoulder as his eyes go wide.

Cato leans in until they’re face to face. “Nobody takes him away from me!”

When he rips his blade loose and stabs again, his aim is true. The Bhotan gurgles for air around the blade in his throat, and his blood forms a crimson pool in the snow. Cato stares at him until he takes his last breath, then his eyes lift to meet mine, his skin painted in flecks of red.

Time stands still for a single, deafening heartbeat as my gaze shifts just beyond Cato. Another warrior rushes in, axe raised to split his skull.

I move without thinking and leap forward, tail lashing out to wrap around the attacker’s wrist and yank him off balance. My blade follows, opening his throat in a clean spray of blood, and he drops face down in the snow.

Cato stares up at me, eyes wild and chest heaving. For a split second, our gazes hold, sharing a storm of relief, fury, and something so much deeper. Chaos still reigns around us—Ronan’s sword singing through the air, Lillith crushing another warrior’s skull with her bare hands—but I don’t look away from him.

“Together?” I ask, offering him my hand.

He rips his blade free and flings the excess blood to the ground. “Always,” he agrees.

I fall into step beside him, our movements syncing as if we were made for this. I duck under a swing and slash low while Cato powers through with overhead strikes. We trade blows with the remaining warriors in a deadly dance.

“You’re slow today,” I tease breathlessly as I parry a spear and spin to kick the attacker into Cato’s path.

Cato grins as he buries his machete in the man’s chest. “That’s three for me. Catch up, pretty boy.”