Red and Her Wolf (Kingdom, #3)

Gingerly, not wanting to further injure her, he hefted her slight weight into his arms. The moan grew louder, then voices sifted through his consciousness, but they were distorted--filtered through a long tunnel, low and hard to understand.

His hand was so dark against her pale, lovely face. Her neck was tilted at an odd angle, blonde hair rained down around her shoulders. The moaning grew louder, like the buzz of an angry wasp’s nest disturbed. He traced the curve of her sharp cheekbone, gently, reverently. Following the line to her nose, so straight and perfect, her heart shaped jaw. Small, beautiful ears. She had freckles. He’d never known that. Flattening his fingertips against her neck he waited.

There was no pulse.

Blue lips did not part to utter protest at her lover’s caress. She still looked as young and as angelic as he’d remembered, she’d aged not at all. Youth personified was his mate. Slowly, with measured ease, he slid his hand down the front of her still, cold body. Where was the wound? What had wrecked such devastation upon her? He smelled wolf, the stench of it lay thick in his nostrils--the musk of woods and upturned leaves, of bloody meat, and fatty marrow.

His hands slipped beneath her shirt. Maybe there was still time. Maybe the fairies could still heal her. Then his fingers found thick groves torn within her flesh, deep into the muscle. A sickening suction pulled at his digit and he shuddered, fire burned his throat. The sound cascaded all around him; the low moan was now an eruption of pain.

His chest heaved, his eyes swelled, and then he howled, pulling her beloved face into his chest. Crying out to the night; pain pouring out through his song.

Hands clasped onto his shoulders. Small ones, they squeezed. “Ewan,” Danika began.

He hissed, jerking out of her reach, rushing to his feet; holding the lifeless body to his chest, as if he could somehow force his life’s essence into her.

“Ye did this!” He snarled, the wild in him coming to the forefront, obscuring his reason or sanity. Only knowing the pain consumed and burned and he needed to release it or risk dying from the agony of his shattered soul.

Human size again, her eyes were huge, filled with sadness and unshed tears. “We must leave here, Ewan. There is dark magic about, the crows have surely reported to their mistress.”

“I will not leave her.” His words were vicious, sharper than a sword.

Miriam stood in front of Danika, almost as if shielding her.

“Move away, Shunned,” he warned.

“Hear me, Ewan of the clan Black Foot,” her words trembled with a surge of raw power, it crackled through the air like a heavy ball of static. “She is nay dead, though she may appear it.”

Ewan wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. Afraid to breath, to believe, for fear it would turn out to be nothing more than a cruel joke, he whispered, “what do ye mean, nay dead?”

His tongue felt thick in his mouth; his throat in parched agony. Adrenaline flooded his brain, made him shake as his fingers dug into Violet’s still chest, praying with all his soul the fairy spoke true.

Miriam looked around as shadows danced in her eyes; a pulse darted in her throat. She was nervous, she reeked of it. “We’ve been found a few weeks ago now. I’ve been killing the wolves and dumping their carcasses far from our home, hoping to keep the lass in the dark at least until I could arrange our departure.” She closed her eyes, wringing her hands. “I’d thought I’d been so clever, keeping it from her. But she must have found out. She must have found one. She took him on, very nearly died. I’ve had to place her in a Sleeping Beauty spell. She is locked, frozen in time. In order for her to survive, we must return to Kingdom this night.”

He swallowed the bile that’d lodged tight in his throat. She was asleep. Hands shaking violently, he brought her face to his, kissing her lips softly. Knowing the kiss would not wake her, this wasn’t a fairy tale after all, but hope bloomed deep in his soul. She was alive, still here. He did not care if she hated him now, she wouldn’t later. Ewan would show her the depths of his love, his devotion, and passion. Together they’d overcome Malvena. The madness of losing her faded slowly away. This he could deal with.

“The Ten will know if we sail into Kingdom, Mir, you told me that before. Remember? How can we sneak in?” Danika’s words were rushed, full of fear.

Miriam smiled and hugged her friend softly. “Ssh, now. It matters not.”

“How can you say that?”

Ewan rubbed Violet’s back, reveling in his ability to touch her again. Hold her. He’d never let go, never again.