He clutched his stomach, blood pouring between his fingers. But he didn’t fall. Instead, he stood, staring at her, his eyes darkening to a wrathful black.
Now, she no longer saw Bael looking back at her. Near death, the primal part of his mind had switched on, and the void itself stared back at her.
Chapter 47
The Bael she knew was gone. And now, she’d meet the real predator.
Faster than a heartbeat, one of his hands clamped around her throat. And in the next moment, she fell back, her skull slamming against the ground.
The knock of her head against the sand dizzied her, and she looked up at Bael. He pinned her to the ground, a dagger pressed into her heart.
Despite the damage she’d done to his stomach, he seemed to be at full strength. Obviously, she wasn’t a real predator. She’d missed all the organs.
Panic ignited. This is it. This is what I’ve known was coming.
The crowd roared, but Ursula could hardly hear them over her own rushing blood. She wouldn’t be able to move an inch without Bael thrusting his dagger into her heart. He had her completely pinned to the ground, under his control.
Her breath came in short, sharp bursts, and she gazed up at him.
The void had left his eyes, and he stared at her instead with his pale gray eyes.
Terror ripped her mind apart.
He said he’d kill me quick.
Longingly, she looked up at the earth, and a deep sadness welled in her chest.
Tears wet her eyes. “I’m sorry about what I said.” She had no fucking clue why she was apologizing to a man about to kill her. “About the guilt, and the painting, and that I went into your quarters.”
A weariness—a sadness glinted in his eyes. His lips moved. She couldn’t hear him over the crowd, but it looked like he breathed the word, Sorry. Shadows thickened around him, and his magic whispered over her skin—almost as if he were soothing her before the kill.
This is the end of my life, and no one knows who I am.
With his free hand, he brushed a finger down her cheek.
“Please do it fast.” She closed her eyes. She was going to die here, as far from home as it was possible to be, and she still didn’t know who she was. She slipped her hand into her pocket, pulling out the ring to feel it one last time between her fingers, rubbing its smooth surface. All she knew was that it reminded her of home, of something solid and constant.
And god, she wanted something constant, tangible. Something she could feel—anything but the void.
She gasped another shaky breath. All around, the crowd screamed for blood.
After a few moments, she forced herself to open her eyes again. But Bael’s gaze had landed on the ring.
His ring.
Distantly, she heard Hothgar’s voice. “Kill the hound, and take back your wings.”
“Just do it,” she whispered. “This is agony. Make it quick. Please.”
Instead, he pulled the dagger away, snatching the ring from her fingers.
What the hell is going on? He couldn’t wait until after he’d killed her to take the ring back?
“Where did you get this?” he growled.
“The ring? I found it in the jewelry box.”
Bael grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her up. She stumbled, nearly falling into him. Her legs shook, and Bael wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her. He stared at her, his piercing eyes burning with ferocity.
Then, he held the ring above his head. “I claim the hound as my wife,” he shouted.
Ursula’s jaw dropped. What the fuck?
Bael yanked the cord from his neck, slipping off the thin silver ring. He grabbed her left hand, holding it up so everyone in the arena could see. Then, he slid the ring onto her finger.
Ursula stared at Bael, realization dawning. Asharoth had told her that a man is forbidden from killing the woman he’s claimed. And more than that—no one else may harm her, either.
“No!” Hothgar bellowed. “She is a demon of the infernos. A whore of Emerazel. You cannot claim her!”
“I take what I want,” roared Bale. “There is no law forbidding such a wife. A warrior may choose any wife he pleases.”
The crowd had fallen completely silent.
Hothgar’s black eyes glared at them. “Does the hound consent to the proposal?”
Bael pressed the thick, silver ring into her hand, and he fixed her with a fierce stare.
On the one hand, he killed his last wife. On the other hand, this seems like the best way out of certain death right now. She exhaled, then shouted, “I consent.”
Bael cupped the side of her face, seemingly oblivious to the wound in his stomach. He leaned in, his breath warming the shell of her ear. He smelled of sandalwood. “I need to claim you now. Publicly.”