Red and Her Wolf (Kingdom, #3)

In a trance like state of shuffle, step, shuffle. Sweat and sand irritated his skin, made him growl and burn from the constant friction. But he couldn’t stop; they had to get to safety.

The planets cast long shadows, almost obscuring the moon’s glow. T’was hard to know precisely how much time had passed, but his muscles ached. This would be so much easier in wolf form. This land was nothing but an endless sea of sand. Why hadn’t the fairy dropped them off within the village?

Eventually, even his thoughts ceased, caught up in just getting there.

Biceps and thighs trembling, he climbed the long hills. Up and down, down and up, one after another, landscape never shifting or offering surcease. A brutal test of his endurance, alone he could climb hill after hill, but holding onto dead weight while doing it in his weaker human form, coated him in a thick sheen of sweat. Hair clung to the back of his neck, wet and uncomfortable.

The abrasive sand rubbed his feet raw, a suspicious wetness gathered on his heels.

“Red,” he whispered, lungs heaving for relief from the humid night, “wake, my love. We’re in Kingdom.”

She did not respond, but he would not lose hope, because now her lips no longer resembled a permafrost blue, but the rosy pink of health. The spell had begun to lift.

“Ye are so lovely, Vi,” he inhaled, “and I ken ye have nay knowledge of me, but I promise ye this… none will ever hurt ye again.”

Preserving the remnants of his energy, he stopped talking or thinking about anything other than the beckoning flames. Ewan urged his shaking legs to top the crest of yet another hill and this time, the lights were there. Not twenty yards ahead. The village moved with life, people moved in and out of houses shambling around in random patterns.

Smiling grimly, he stopped, taking a moment to rest and study the quaint mud brick village. The night so well lit, he could make out the beige hue of the bricks spiraling up like coral from a seabed. A massive gate and walls surrounded the city; he’d have to figure out a way in without alerting any to their presence. He did not know this land, nor whom to trust. He wasn’t even certain he could trust the spy Miriam led them to.

A graveyard was their assignation point. Ewan did not know who the spy was, but it filled him with dread knowing where he was to find the individual. Few dared to dwell within dead man’s land, and those that did, were never friendly.

A gaggle of drunken men stumbled out from an oblong door, small children dressed in cream toned clothes raced between homes kicking a ball. But no matter where he looked, he could not find any sign of the graveyard.

Then a chatter of discordant voices reached his ears, men carrying torches suddenly filled the dirt streets. He narrowed his eyes, instinct telling him to crouch.

Guards were kicking in doors, cries of alarm rang out as women were yanked roughly from their homes and thrown to the ground. Children screamed and cried, running to their mothers even as the guards kicked them, demanding to know where the Heartsong was.

Ewan sucked in a sharp breath when a movement from one of the guards exposed a glint of gold around his neck. Malvena’s spies. Here. Already? Danika had worried they’d know, but he’d felt no disturbance in the air, no shifting of the land.

“Bloody hell,” he snarled.

His nostrils flared as he looked about wildly for a cave, a hole, anything to hide them in.

A low growl seeped from his belly, where was the bloody grave? He closed his eyes, trying to remember the map. The image of the village sprang up in his mind and behind it, outside the gates, a small x.

Ewan licked his lips, and glanced over his shoulder. He’d have to go back down the hill, travel horizontally, and hopefully would be able to avoid any eyes that might be on the lookout for his mate. As he was deciding this, a soft whimper made him jerk. Glancing down at his mate’s face, he caressed her blood encrusted hair.

“Be easy, Red.” He hungered to kiss her, taste her, mark her and make her his finally… soon, once they were safe.

It took several more hours; Jinni had always said the nights were blessedly long, and Ewan was thankful the shadows kept their secret. His neck prickled, as if eyes watched, burning a hole through him.

Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed a bright green jewel walking slowly toward him, then another, and another. He cocked his head when he realized they weren’t jewels at all, but beetles. He’d stumbled onto a nest. Not odd in the desert. Shaking his head, he shoved them from his mind.

The scent of jasmine grew redolent; a gentle breeze caressed his sand encrusted body. But he couldn’t allow himself to relax, the clang of steel and cries of the dying was a melancholy song. Goddess help them, he could only hope Miriam’s ally would give them shelter.