by T. S. Joyce
Anna: Okay, nighty night.
Anna: Yep.
And there she was, his little weirdo. Orion couldn’t help the chuckle as he laid back on the bed and messaged her back.
Goodnight, Anna. Send.
****
Annamora could do this with her eyes closed. She had trimmed the thorns off what felt like a billion roses. This bundle was a vibrant orange, like the color of a sunset.
“You sure are quiet lately, Annamora,” Rose pointed out from the table across from her where she was planting tulip bulbs in long, rectangular planters. “Are you good?”
The other girls were around the greenhouse, pretending to be busy, but they kept glancing at Annamora. “Thank you guys for checkin’ in on me,” she murmured. “I’m good. Just miss him.”
Rose and Emerald exchanged worried glances.
“But I’m good! I’m always good.”
“Has he texted?” Emerald asked.
“Not since the first night.”
“Well, have you texted him?” Katy called from where she was unboxing seed packages on the other side of the massive green house.
Annamora sighed and answered, “A couple of times. He is probably busy.” Or more likely, he forgot about her already and moved on with his life, but she didn’t want to voice that to the Tarian Lionesses because they would want to talk about her feelings. And her feelings were all over the place right now. They were better off locked up tight inside her.
“I have something!” Sora called from outside. “Anna, I have something!”
Annamora’s chair screeched as she turned toward the door in time to see Sora bolting through it, waving a pair of letters.
She weaved through the tables covered in potted flowers and dropped the letters on the table right in front of Annamora. “There’s two addressed to you. One without a return address label and one from Orion. I would recognize his shitty handwriting anywhere!”
Heart hammering, Annamora sliced open Orion’s letter with the florist blade, yanked out the folded paper, and read.
Anna,
I have a million things I want to write down, but I’ve been sitting here for half an hour and the only thing that comes out is…
I wish you were here.
It’s best if I’m quiet for a while. I’m sorry for everything. Yeah, yeah, more apologies, I know. But you deserve them.
I keep remembering something. Something I didn’t think about before. After the Tarian War, everything was chaos. So much happened in so short a time. But after the fight, you were in that room with Emerald, Sora, and the other girls. I came in just to check on everyone, and the second you saw me, you asked if I was going to be okay. At the time, I was so confused. I wasn’t used to people asking about me. Or really, anyone seeing me. But you cared. I told you yes, but I was hurt. I like being alone when I’m hurt, so I went into the woods away from everyone. I was having this moment, coming down off the adrenaline of the fight and the aftermath, leaning on this tree trunk, staring up at the moon, my body hurting like hell, and I felt completely alone. And then you came out of nowhere. You stood in front of me for a few seconds, looking at the scratches on my chest, and then you set a backpack by my feet. You didn’t say a word—you seemed to know I needed to be alone—but you brought me bandages, food, and water. And before you left, you knelt down in front of me and said, “Everything will be different, but it will be better.” We were both getting absorbed into the New Tarian Pride, and you must have been terrified after everything that happened, but you were telling me it would be okay. I’ve been holding onto the way you looked that night. Blue moonlight on your face, your eyes gold, your hair a wild mess, your clothes streaked with blood from your own injuries, and you were in the woods checking on a man who didn’t even thank you for your kindness.
You are good, Anna.
Orion.
“Aaaawwww,” Sora crooned from where she’d apparently been reading over Annamora’s shoulder.
“It’s not sweet. It’s scary,” Anna told her. Her hands shook as she gripped the letter and scanned his story again.
“I remember that time differently. Orion was really hurt after that Tarian War, and he went off by himself. I thought he was going off in the woods to die. I brought him supplies that would save him. Just in case. He didn’t thank me because he passed out in a puddle of his own blood, leaned up against an old rotted tree stump. I sewed him back together that night. It doesn’t surprise me that he blocked that memory for a while because it was awful. I was terrified I was going to lose him. This,” she said, holding up the letter, “isn’t romantic. That’s not what he means.”
The color had drained from Sora’s face, and the other Tarian lionesses had gathered around.
“What does it mean?” Rose asked somberly.
“It means he’s hurt.” Annamora looked at the other letter, sitting on the table, beckoning her with its bright white envelope and her scribbled name across the front.
She opened it and pulled out the notecard.
All it said was…
Dear His Anna,
Go.
Beaston
Annamora stood so fast the chair went flying. She gathered the letters and bolted from the greenhouse. “Where are you going?” Sora asked from where she was running beside her.
“Four one zero…” Crap. What was the address on the application form she’d read in the texts? “Four-ten…”
“Four-ten-ten Donner way!” Sora said. “Smoky Mountains. North Carolina. Up in Maggie’s Valley. My dad lived there. The Deadlies are there.”
“Orion is there. That’s all I care about.”
“I’ll take you to the airport,” Sora yelled, sprinting faster toward Annamora’s pickup.
Anna tossed her the keys and skidded to a stop, climbed in the truck, and started searching for flights before Sora even got the truck turned on.
“See if there are two tickets. I’ll go, too. You’ll need backup. The boys in the Deadlies aren’t the welcoming sort of bunch.”
“There’s a flight out to Asheville in a few hours. Two seats left, one in the back and one in the middle. If we don’t pack anything, we might be able to make that one.”
“Just need IDs.” Sora peeled out of the yard, spraying mud as she went. She drove like a bat out of hell, skidding this way and that down the old dirt road out of Rose and Talon’s property.
Annamora booked the flight as fast as she possibly could, terrified the last two seats would be taken before she could max out her credit card with the tickets.
When they were confirmed, she texted Orion. I need a picture of you. Send.
She waited about forty-five seconds until she gave into her impatience and typed out, ORION, PICTURE. Send.
A message came through of a selfie. Cheeeeese. Orion was smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes and his face was as pale as a ghost. He had bags under his eyes and looked exhausted. The blue color of his eyes was dull and glazed over.
Annamora narrowed her eyes and typed out, Full body pic. Now.
I’m headed into a meeting. Everything is fine. I’ll message you when I get out.
By meeting do you mean a fight? Send. Orion! Send.
Clever girl. Be back soon.
PICTURE!!!! I WANT PROOF THAT YOU ARE OKAY!
There was no response after that. Shit. Annamora wanted to throw the phone. She felt completely helpless. “Why would he be fighting? Why would he be hurt? He’s already Alpha.”
Sora put her phone to her ear. It rang a couple of times before someone picked up.
“Now is literally the worst time,” A male voice said on the line.
“Roden, what’s happening?”
“None of your goddamn business, Tarian!”
“Fine, we’ll just find out when we show up at your doorstep.”
“Wait, what? Who is showing up?”
“Everyone. You met my mate, Dark Ford. I’ll call Vyr Daye in, too, why not? Maybe the Grim Reaper. We’ll make
it a party. Or you can tell me what the fuck is happening to my brother!”
A long sigh that tapered into a snarl blasted through the phone. “Hunter isn’t the only one going after that Alpha title. Orion has some competition. Apparently, everyone wants this territory.” A mass of yelling sounded in the background. Had to be a dozen men’s voices, at least. “Fuck, I have to go. Don’t come here. Not right now.”
“Why not?” Sora asked.
“Because one of you needs to survive to carry on the Burge lineage!”
“Oh, my God,” Sora whispered. “Roden, help him!”
“We’re fucking trying!” Click.
Sora roared at her phone as the screen went blank.
Annamora scrolled through her contacts with a shaking finger, looking for one who could help the fastest. She was a good stalker and had compiled a list of shifter numbers a long time ago when she’d plotted to someday take the Old Tarians down.
Air Ryder. No.
Harper James, the Bloodrunner dragon herself. Getting warmer.
Weston Novak. Nope.
Damon Daye. No, it would take him too long to get there.
The Red Dragon and the Grim Reaper would take too long, too.
Z. There it was. Just a single letter. She’d saved him as Z. The one no one should ever call unless they were prepared to bring hell to earth. Z. The end of days. The apocalypse himself, Dark Kane, the black dragon. He lived real close to whatever was happening, and Annamora was about to get really good at begging for a life. Orion’s life. Desperate times and measures and all. If Orion lost his Alpha fights, the Black Dragon’s territory would be directly affected. She was going to dig in on that, or beg him on behalf of her love for Orion, or hell, promise him a lifetime supply of Rice Krispy Treats if he would just help.
“What are you doing?” Sora asked as Annamora connected the call.
“I’m finding Orion some back-up.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Caw!” the raven in the tree cried out. Big-ass thing was the size of a turkey and definitely a shifter. “Caw, caw, caw!”
The clearing was filled with monsters. Gorilla shifters, wolves, bears, tigers… Three eagles sat in an old hickory tree, bending the branches with their weight. Some were Changed, some weren’t. The ones who still had their human skin were all dominant. Orion could smell it on them. The air was so thick with dominance it was hard to draw a good breath.
“Tired yet?” a snarling man with longer hair and lizard eyes asked as they circled each other.
Orion’s body was shredded, but he would die before he showed even a limp. First rule of Alpha fights: show no weakness. Weakness surged adrenaline and bloodlust in an opponent. It gave them an advantage, and he sure as shit wasn’t going to lose the Deadlies to a Komodo dragon.
How many fights was this? Ten? Twelve? They were all running together now. Orion snarled when Lizard Man paced too close, fists up, lip streaming blood down his chin. Orion had already popped him a couple of times, but the mob was getting restless already, tired of seeing the same man win the fight this many times.
A gorilla shoved him in the back, pushing him into the circle, and Orion could hear the immediate retaliation from Hunter. The crack of a breaking nose echoed through the clearing and then Hunter’s snarl as he Changed and wrapped his claws around the gorilla’s neck. When a few others joined in on that fight, Orion hoped Hunter lived. They’d been through war together for two days now. Hunter and Roden and Cale could’ve left at any time, but they were here until the end. And, oh, the end was coming. There were rules to this Alpha Challenge business, and the boys were doing their best to enforce them, but this wasn’t some fair and honorable fight. This was a takeover. One by one, the shifters were fighting him, bleeding him, weakening him. They would win this territory eventually and kill Orion and the Deadlies to secure it.
But not on this fight.
He wasn’t losing to a fucking reptile.
Thank God, Annamora was far away from this. That was the thought he clung to. At least she would be okay.
The fight behind him was distracting. His broken ribs, seeping gashes, and guts that were being held in by a bandage Cale had quickly strapped around him were distracting, too. His body felt like he’d been run over by a train, but he wasn’t done yet.
No time for rest, no time for food or water since the opponents were throwing down another Alpha Challenge before Orion even killed the previous one.
The lizard shifter looked creepy as hell, all green eyes and elongated pupils. And the second lizard man shifted his attention to the brawl going on behind him, Orion was ready. He stepped forward, arm already swinging, and blasted the guy across his jaw. Hurt like hell, probably broke a couple of knuckles because whoever, or whatever, he was, his face was made of stone.
“Caw, caw, caw!”
“Someone shut that thing up!” one of the shifters yelled.
Lizard man stood back up and offered Orion a bloody smile, and then he lunged. They locked up, fists on face, body shots, uppercut, uppercut. The crack of his breaking hands was deafening. Lizard man was pummeling him back, every shot hurting like a boulder had fallen on Orion. They went to the ground, scrabbling, hitting. Orion lost his mind as the lion ripped out of him and put his teeth on the man’s neck before he even finished the Change. All he had to do was pull back, and he could rip the asshole’s throat out, but there was yelling all around him.
“Stop him!” someone screamed.
The smattering of bones sounded, and something hit Orion like a tsunami. He was thrown out of the circle and into a trio of Changing shifters who went down hard with him.
“End this!” someone bellowed.
Something bludgeoned his back, and Orion roared in fury and pain. His vision blurred as the shifters charged. No more rules. Here it was—the end. These shifters had no honor.
Time changed. It slowed to a crawl, and Orion could see the last few seconds of his life in vivid detail. Cale and Roden were savagely fighting a pair of wolves, Hunter was pinned on the ground, a massive gorilla above him, fist drawn back, eyes blazing green, mouth open in a death promise, all of his long canine’s exposed. There were no men left, only animals now—wolves, hyenas, tigers, gorillas, boars—all charging straight for him. And between two of them, on the edge of the woods, something caught his eye. A man stood there, arm held out to a raven who flew down to him from the tree. He was tall with broad shoulders, hair gone gray at the temples. His blazing green eyes were so sad.
Orion recognized him. Beaston.
The man’s lips formed the word Hold. So sad. His eyes were so sad.
A tiger reached him from the other side, claws out. When he pulled Orion under him, Orion fought desperately to keep his teeth off his already shredded neck. He looked back at Beaston. He’d been wrong. Orion felt betrayed. His whole life he’d thought he was destined to be Alpha of the Deadlies, but Beaston had been wrong. His destiny was to die trying to be Alpha of the Deadlies.
You took me from her. I believed you.
“Hold,” Beaston yelled, the veins in his neck popping and his face going red.
The tigers were close now, a silverback gorilla, too. They were in it for the death blows, Orion could see it in their eyes. Annamora. He wanted to see her face at the end.
The raven landed on Beaston’s arm and opened its glossy black beak to caw again. It drew in a breath and—
Roaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar!
Time sped up again as the earth rattled with a horrifying sound he never in his lifetime thought he would hear again.
Another roar sounded from farther off as he shoved the startled tiger off him. And then another roar.
The dragons were here.
Please don’t let it be, please don’t let it be—
A monstrous shadow covered the clearing, and the air from the tattered wings of a black scaled beast pressed the animals to the ground with its hurricane-like force.
Oh, shit, they were all screwe
d now. Kane was out.
Ruuuuuuuuuuuuuun! He tried to scream to Cale, Roden, and Hunter, but it came out a roar.
The first stream of lava and fire hit the tree line, but the gorilla and wolves didn’t seem to care. That’s what bloodlust did to some animals. The sick ones. They didn’t care about living or dying, so long as they finished a kill. The gorilla hit him full force, but Orion was ready. He opened his arms and caught him in the chest, latched his teeth onto his jugular and ripped back as hard as he could. Everything hurt, and stars dashed this way and that on the edge of his vision, but he held on as best as he could to the thrashing silverback. One of the wolves latched onto the back of Orion’s neck, but he was swatted off by the enormous paw of a green-eyed grizzly. A raven dove down and clawed at the eyes of the snapping gorilla, and another raven, and something white. Feathers. An owl?
Orion was thrown backward so he twisted in the air to land on his feet and then skidded to a stop. Where was the black dragon? Where was the damn black dragon? There! He had circled back and was headed straight for them.
Shit shit shit. With a groan of agony, Orion Changed back and sat panting on hands and knees. “Beaston!” he screamed hoarsely. “Hunter, Cale, Roden. Run!”
Dark Kane was bigger than a damn planet, and his eyes were focused right on Orion. His hole-riddled, battle-scarred demon wings stretched out and beat the air. Claws tucked under him, he dove and opened his mouth to burn them all to ashes.
Like a torpedo, a silver dragon spun, wings tucked, and blasted into Dark Kane’s side, sending him sprawling off-course. It had to be Rowan, Kane’s mate. She was buying them time. Time to run or hide—he didn’t fuckin’ know! There wasn’t really an escape from the motherfuckin’ End of Days.
Shifters were scattering now. Orion struggled to his feet and bolted for Cale, who was staring at the battling dragons. “That’s…that’s…” he murmured.
Orion lifted him off the ground and shoved him hard for the house. “That’s our death if you don’t move, Cale!”
Beaston’s enormous silver grizzly was running beside him, snarling at anything that came too close. Roden caught up to them, but Hunter was nowhere to be seen, so Orion skidded to a stop and turned. “Hunter!” he yelled.