by Woods, Erica
They were on edge. Worried. Bristling with tension.
But I couldn’t work up the energy to wonder what it meant, to fear the games that would start in just a few hours. The only thing I could think about was Matthew. Finding him. Talking to him.
And what I’d have to do after.
37
Ruarc
I yanked my female into a hard embrace and tried to forget all the things that could go wrong. “Be safe,” I growled against her neck, drawing in her scent in a piss poor attempt at gaining some fucking calm.
It didn’t work.
Nausea burned in the pit of my hollow gut. Dread cut off my air.
And when my female buried her face in my chest, trying—and failing—to wrap her arms all the way around me, I froze.
Grab her. Run. Keep her safe.
My muscles locked. Strained.
Council would come after us. We’d have to fight.
My jaw ground together with such force my teeth would’ve cracked if I were human.
I’d fight for my female, no question, but we might lose. Some of us would die.
Couldn’t risk her life like that.
“You shouldn’t worry so much,” my brave—too brave—female murmured into my shirt. “There’s no killing allowed during the games, right?”
“Doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened.” Didn’t want her scared, just wary. Careful. Lycans played rough, and though maiming was also against the rules, it happened. With how fast we healed, most didn’t care, but with Hope . . .
Fragile, human bones. Flesh that could so easily tear. Skin that could be damaged by something as innocuous as paper.
Paper!
A snarl ripped from my chest and turned the heads of nearby lycans.
Mine, I wanted to roar. My female!
“I’ll be fine, Ruarc.” Hope leaned back and looked up at me, her stubborn chin jutting out, thin shoulders squared. “I’ll stick close to Zakh and be careful.”
The thought of leaving her at the mercy of another, one not pack, made rage build in my chest until it throbbed with the roar I forced back. Speaking got harder. “Forfeit,” I pushed out. “You forfeit the games you’re allowed.”
A solemn nod.
“Be safe,” I commanded once more, shuddering with a reluctance that left my limbs stiff and uncooperative.
I’d do this. For her. I’d go out of my mind, but I’d do it. And then, when we’d put this mess behind us; when she was safe, the Council placated, and the worm Rederick put in his place, we’d leave and never return.
The Assembly could go fuck itself.
“You too,” she whispered, a worried crease appearing between her pretty eyes.
I frowned. “I’m strong.”
When the crease deepened, I reached out and tried to smooth it away. My big, calloused finger looked wrong touching her silky skin.
Big and clumsy and too fucking rough.
I yanked it back, but my sweet, beautiful female followed, pressing her tiny body against my chest and wrapping her delicate arms as far around my waist as they could reach.
Which wasn’t very far.
Could snap those arms in two if I ever forgot my strength . . . And so could any other lycan during the games.
My stomach lurched.
“I know you are strong, Ruarc, but you must still be careful, okay?” She tipped her head back, eyes deep pools of emotion no male like me should ever be privileged enough to witness. “Promise?”
She worried for my safety? When she, a human not yet recovered from the trauma hidden in her past, was about to face vicious games with fifty thousand lycans, many of which hated humans and wanted to see them all dead?
“Promise,” I said gruffly, struggling to find words to explain the emotion swelling in my chest. “You too.”
She smiled, a sweet, affectionate expression that lit the fuse to the protective storm now raging inside me. “I promise to be careful.”
I crushed her to me in another hug, picturing the violence I’d inflict on anyone who took advantage of her sweet disposition or caring nature.
A shudder lurked on the horizon of my awareness, cultivated by a chilling fear for my female’s safety.
Before it could consume me, I dragged my nose along her neck, inhaling her scent like an addict.
Was starved for my female.
“Oh!” Hope shivered and twisted, snorting out a weird, little laugh that could only sound good coming from my female. “It tickled.”
“Sorry,” I grunted, but I wasn’t. Worth it to hear that sound.
It’s cute, I decided, whipping a glare over any lycan looking our way, silently daring them to mock my female and her sounds. She could do or say whatever she wanted. Anyone tried to make her feel bad, I’d tear their fucking throats out.
“You’re looking all murderous.”
I ripped my attention away from the males I’d been unobtrusively threatening and looked down at the female who’d become my whole reason for existing. Then her words penetrated, and I frowned. “Murderous?”
She nodded. “Quite.”
That tone, all prim and proper, made my lips twitch. She was playing with me. “Was thinking.”
“Contemplating murder?”
I grunted an affirmative, amused when her eyes widened.
“Ruarc . . .”
Fuck, when she looked at me like that, all big, pleading eyes, I could deny her nothing. “I’ll keep my fangs to myself.” Unless someone threatens you.
She rolled her eyes, a smile spilling over her face like the first rays of the sun—slow, warm and achingly beautiful—and then she captured my head between her small hands.
Was trapped.
Didn’t matter that she weighed next to nothing, or that physically, she was as weak as a kitten. Because she was the one holding me, I was trapped.
“I love you, Ruarc.”
And just like that, she set fire to my nerve endings and froze the air in my lungs. “Love you more,” I growled, desperate to stay with her, but knowing if I didn’t leave right then, I never would. “Have to go.”
“I know.” She threw a quick glance over her shoulder where the rest of our pack waited and slowly dropped her hands.
The places she’d touched burned.
I briefly rested my forehead against hers; closed my eyes and allowed myself one last hit of her scent, then spun around and stalked toward the line of alphas and enforcers.
Was determined to play my part so I could get back to my female as quickly as possible. And while I was a team leader, I didn’t give a shit about the games. Only she mattered, and I’d be damned if I wouldn’t keep my eyes on her throughout this whole ordeal.
Even if meant conceding fights and losing my reputation as the scariest son-of-a-bitch to walk these grounds since the Wars.
I was almost by the stage—and the lycans lined up in front of it, expanding far beyond its borders—when Blake fell into step beside me. “You betting this year?”
Betting? Was he serious?
“Come on, mon ami. Lighten up.”
“Lighten up?” I shoved him, would’ve grinned at the way he lurched to the side if I hadn’t been so pissed.
And fucking terrified.
I glared at all the lycans lined up before us, the teeming mass of unscrupulous lycans behind. Males that would soon surround my female.
A roar rattled around in my chest.
“Really, Ruarc?” Blake sidestepped the swipe of my claws, frowning. “I know you’re worried, but you need to get it together.”
I ignored him.
The males that didn’t hate humans would fall for my little female. How could they not? She was brave. Sweet. Beautiful. One of a kind.
They’d trip over each other in their haste to win her over. Take her away from me.
Steal her.
The roar shook free, and I dropped down into a half crouch, prepared to leap across the field and grab my female.
“Cal
m down.” A firm grip to my shoulder, too much understanding in the other male’s eyes. “I know, my friend. I know.”
“My female,” I snarled, turning back so I could feast my hungry gaze on the object of my obsession.
Her beautiful face was tilted to the side, an intent expression scrunching her brows together as she listened to whatever Jason was saying. She looked sweet and innocent and unaware of the danger stalking her.
“They’ll try to take her!” I made it three steps before Blake grabbed me.
Red misted my vision like a spray of blood.
My hand shot out, closed around his throat.
“Ruarc—”
I threw him, watched his big frame fly through the air and land with a thunk, shaking with the need to follow, to pummel him into the ground.
Shouldn’t have stood between me and my female.
As soon as he landed, Blake jumped to his feet, dusted off his dark jacket, and speared me with an exasperated glare. “For god’s sake,” he muttered. “No one is going to steal your female. If they tried, the other packs would tear them apart. Or have you forgotten that you’re not the only one with a female to protect?”
His words were slow to penetrate. I bared my teeth.
“Think!” Blake growled, anger bleeding into his eyes. “This is the Assembly games. What did the packs agree on centuries ago?”
“No poaching during games.” My elongated fangs cut my tongue.
“That’s right. No one would dare poach her before the games are done, and Zakh will make sure she stays safe. Now . . . Go take your place before the Council punishes your disobedience by harming your female.”
Nothing else could’ve made me obey, but Blake knew what buttons to push. He wasn’t alpha for nothing.
I gave him a brief nod and walked on stiff legs to take my place in the line. A look to the far left assured me I wasn’t the only one struggling. Ash stood with his jaw clenched, shoulders rigid, radiating a violent tension that had the wolves next to him struggle to stand still.
I glared, and the annoyingly perceptive bastard turned and unerringly found my gaze. Blue irises swallowed by black and edged with gold flickered as he stared. Something cold and deadly moved behind that lethal gaze, but before my wolf could bare its teeth in response, Ash dipped his chin and dragged his attention back to the crowd.
To our female.
She shouldn’t be here.
I’d never questioned the games. Had thought it good. It agreed with me—giving the weak a chance at a better fate. But now I saw it for the barbaric practice it was. Females should’ve been given team leader status; a chance to pick their own teams. That way, the unhappy ones could scout new packs—impossible now when all packs arranged picks with their allies—and the rest could choose their packmates for their teams.
Would let them feel safe.
Hated that my female was scared. Even if she tried to hide it.
Snarling under my breath, I occupied myself with thoughts of Council flesh tearing, their blood spilling. Time crawled by, the churning fury in my gut diminishing with each imagined limb I ripped off the bastards responsible for Hope’s current situation. I’d almost gotten myself under control when Gideon, the alpha who had first pick, did the one thing that could send me hurtling over the edge of rage and into the volcano of vitriolic, vengeful wrath.
He picked Hope.
38
Hope
After Ash and Ruarc left to join the other lycans who would be choosing the teams this Assembly, I was filled with the same, nervous tension that seemed to afflict those remaining. It rippled across the crowd, morphing as the line ahead grew, touching on alarm and agitation and anticipation, until Samuel announced that the choosing would begin and a buzz of eagerness swept over them like a tidal wave, drenching the lycans in the thrill of excitement while leaving me dry and dreading.
The choosing loomed.
The games would follow.
And if I managed to get through the next few days without dying, I’d still have to face the Council. Twice.
At the end of Samuel’s announcement, a man almost as fierce looking as Ruarc stepped forward.
“Gideon,” Lucien said, staring straight ahead. “He has first pick this year.”
The man was big. Huge, really. Black hair braided at the temples and pulled back in a warrior style framed a hard face. Burning emerald eyes swept over the heads in the crowd, looking, searching, hunting.
And then they found me.
The back of my neck prickled with such ferocity my skin felt scorched. A warning to run, flee, get away.
The eyes narrowed.
I jerked back and stepped halfway behind Lucien, trying to hide, but that burning gaze never wavered. Instead, coal-black brows drew together in a fierce scowl, his mouth a slash of displeasure.
My throat dried up, and when he opened his mouth I just knew what he was going to say.
“I pick her.” His long finger pointed straight at me, but before I could squeak that he had the wrong person, all hell broke loose.
An ungodly roar echoed across the field, the power and rage behind the sound as familiar to me as my own voice.
Ruarc.
Terrified he’d been hurt, I ignored the sounds of chaos around us and tried to get to him. Lucien blocked my way, his long, lean body suddenly in front of me and hiding me from sight. At the same time, the arms around my waist tightened painfully, and then I was crushed against Jason’s chest, squashed between two looming, furious males.
Another chilling roar, then the crowd erupted like a volcano; still one minute, blazing and booming the next.
Someone screamed.
The ground shook.
Roars thundered, a detonation of sound that set off others that set off others that set off others, until the whole world exploded.
A sharp voice cracked through the air. Once. Twice. The roars lessened.
The chaos lasted no more than a few minutes, but by the time it ended, my chest felt battered from the force of my hammering heart.
If Lucien hadn’t ruthlessly disposed of anyone that came too close, if Jason hadn’t wrapped me in his arms and used his body to shield me, I’d have been trampled.
“Step aside,” a cold voice commanded once the last of the roars died down. “The rules are clear.”
Jason stiffened; Lucien hissed a name, “Samuel.”
The blows pummeling my chest from the inside increased, and when Lucien refused to move—defying the Council and risking his life—I thought I’d die from the force of the rapid, relentless beats.
“She is not chattel to be traded. She stays.”
“Lucien, don’t—”
A hand over my mouth silenced my protest.
“She isn’t being traded, don’t be dramatic. Once the games are over, she will be returned.”
“No,” Lucien said, his voice reaching sub-zero temperatures.
“Are you challenging me?” The sound of Samuel’s lethal whisper sent chills down my back.
At once, Jason’s explanation about the Council challenges came to mind, how it was a fight to the death, and my stomach soured so quickly and so thoroughly that I almost emptied it all over Jason’s hand. I gained control at the last minute, the risk Lucien was taking pushing away all other thoughts, and I did the only thing I could think about to get free.
I opened my mouth.
Jason yelped, dropped the hand he’d used to silence me, and held me out from his body, staring at me with such a startled expression I would have laughed if the situation hadn’t been so dire. “You bit me,” he said and shook his head like he couldn’t believe it. “You bit me!”
Twisting in his grip, I grabbed hold of Lucien’s crisp, white shirt and tugged. “Lucien, don’t you dare put yourself at risk for this! It’s just some games”—terrifying games that would probably end with me injured or dying—“and I’ll be fine. Now, step aside before I bite you too.”
Lucien turned, stared do
wn at me, his perfect jaw slack with a kind of stunned emotion—inadvertently giving me the opportunity I needed.
Quickly, before his senses returned, I wiggled in Jason’s tight grip and thrust my hand out at Samuel. “Hi, I’m Hope,” I said, trying to breathe through the terror tightening my throat. This was one of the lycans who would determine my fate. If I made a bad impression now, he’d probably never agree to help me. Not to mention, he’d probably vote to see me punished for knowing a truth no human should. “I’ll come now, just . . . Could you give us a minute?”
Samuel cocked his head, the action strangely reminiscent of Ash. “You’re a peculiar one, aren’t you”— he took a deep breath—“human?”
If it was a question, it was one I had no intention of answering.
“I shall give you”—he glanced behind him before settling a cold glare on Lucien—“five minutes.” With that, he strolled back to the stage.
As soon as he was out of range, Lucien whirled around and pierced me with a glare that had my stomach drop down to my feet. “Are you daft, wench?” His eyes glittered, the glowing circles of green disappearing behind a wave of black as his pupils dilated. “You cannot go with Gideon. You have to wait for Zakh!”
“But . . . we have to follow the rules. There isn’t really a way around it. Is there?”
“There is. I will challenge Samuel.”
“No, you won’t!” I cried at the same time Jason said, “Ruarc already tried.”
Lucien’s gaze whipped to Jason. “What!”
“He didn’t!” I breathed, terrified for my man. The way Samuel had controlled the crowd earlier, the fear he’d inspired, scared me senseless.
Jason nodded gravely. “Ash stopped him. Last I saw, both Blake and Zakh were helping him pin Ruarc down.”
“Thank god! What was he thinking?” If anything had happened to Ruarc because of me, I would never have forgiven myself.
“If you do not understand this by now—” Lucien’s mouth snapped shut and he took a deep breath. “He wants to protect you. We all do.”