by Lia Slater
“No.” Mace stepped closer. “I won’t understand anything if you harm her.” His lips curled up into his teeth as he seethed. “I’ll tear your goddamn limbs off and feed them to my pack if you hurt her.”
Fenton wheezed and his hand at her arm felt clammy as his grip loosened. “Stay back!” he choked out.
The edge of the blade eased some, allowing her a shallow intake of air. It was now or never. She jolted to the side and the sharp edge of the weapon carved into her flesh as she dropped to the ground.
Blood seeped from the wound and oozed down, staining her dress. Too much blood. Oh God. Help me. She pressed her hand to the raw sliced flesh, felt the burning pain and watched in shock as chaos erupted around her.
Mace lunged forward, changing into his wolf form. A chilling scream cut through the night air as Fenton stumbled, futilely trying to run away. The enormous black wolf trapped him against the earth and didn’t waste one second before chomping his sharp teeth into Fenton’s jugular.
Nayla clamped her gritty eyes shut as both nausea and exhaustion claimed her.
She prayed for sleep. She prayed for the calming blackness to save her from her aching heart, her woozy stomach, her helpless, paralyzing fear.
She prayed the horrifying sounds from her past would stop, from the day her parents had been murdered just like this.
Mace. Mace was the executioner now, she reminded herself. Yes, it was for her sake, for her protection, but the putrid coppery smell and the sound of flesh being torn from bones was unbearable. Her stomach roiled and her pulse pounded at the back of her head.
She dug her forehead into the damp leaves on the forest floor and gave in to her extreme fatigue. The dark bottomless pit consumed her, but the promise of peace was a lie. A god-awful lie, ripping her from her senses and forcing her back to that terrible day she’d lost her parents.
Stop. He has to stop.
The sharp teeth. The screams of horror. Scarlet puddles of blood pouring from their bodies, seeping through the wooden floor.
The sounds. Oh God, the sounds of death.
There’s no end to the torture. Her parents are going to die. She’ll never see them again. Never hear her mother’s sweet laughter or cuddle into her father’s large embrace.
The monster is too big. I’m too small. Can’t stop him.
I’m so sorry. So very sorry.
“Nayla. Nayla!” The monster’s voice was familiar as he called her name, hacking through the mist in her mind.
Wet velvet licked at her neck over and over again. His tongue. The animal’s tongue. It burned her wound but she couldn’t move, couldn’t push him away.
“Nayla, you can’t leave me. Come back to me. I love you. God, I love you.”
No. You’re a murderer. Stay away from me.
She had to save herself, to drop farther into the trenches of her mind where he couldn’t find her, couldn’t see her. She fell until the cavern of night ended, its spongy floor bouncing her up and sucking her down.
Safe. I’m safe here.
A twinkling light flickered in the corner. Just there. Gone then back again.
“He loves you.” The soft melodic sound of her mother’s voice floated above Nayla’s head.
“Mother?”
“Yes, it’s me, sweetheart. Rest your head and listen. You’ve pained for too many years.”
Nayla gasped for breath as her lungs grew heavy. Her eyes stung. “I couldn’t save you. I’m so sorry.” “Tsk. You mustn’t blame yourself, child. And you mustn’t blame him either. The one who
loves you.”
“He’s a Were, Mother. Like the animal who killed you.”
“No, Nayla. They’re of two different minds. One of evil, hate and vengeance, the other of honor, love and loyalty. Confuse them and you’ll never find happiness.”
“I’m not sure I deserve love. His love or any love. Not when I survived and you…” “Shush, child. You always were a stubborn one.”
Sweet laughter filled Nayla’s ears and heart.
“I never thought I’d hear your laugh again.”
“I live on, Nayla. In your heart, in your memories. I live on and so should you. If you need
my permission to love this Were, then I fully give it to you. Open your heart to him. Live and be loved.”
“Live?”
“Yes, child. Go on now. You’ve wasted too much time here.”
* * * * *
Mace tore the clothing from her body, shredded a piece of cloth and pressed it to her neck. He tried to focus on stopping the bleeding rather than her ashen skin and the size of the gash on her neck. And how her pulse fluttered weakly under his hand.
God, this couldn’t be happening. He wouldn’t let her die.
His pack surrounded him. Saul and Kaige knelt by his side.
“She’s lost a lot of blood, Mace.” Kaige, in human form, skimmed his fingers over her forehead and cheek, pushing back a thin layer of mud and ringlets of damp hair.
Mace released his suppressed growl, throwing his frustration directly at Kaige. “You touch her again and I’ll kill you. Do you understand that?”
Kaige lifted his hands in surrender. “Understood. So what are we going to do? We’ve got a dead councilman and a dying Queen. It won’t take long for the Paqualette guard to find us here and come to some screwy conclusions. Do we really want to end up in that dungeon again?”
“She’s not dying. “ Mace said the words but knew deep down they weren’t true. His gut twisted at just how true they were. He leaned over to kiss her cold lips and to whisper he loved her. If only he’d had the nerve to tell her when she was conscious. Coward.
Kaige rose to his feet. “So what would you like to do? Take her with us? We can’t stay here. It would be stupid to think Fenton traveled all this way by himself. His men must be camped somewhere near here.”
Mace ignored Kaige and turned to Saul, who was looking down at Nayla with tears in his eyes. “We can find a physician who can help her. Where’s the closest one?”
Saul shook his head slowly, his brow creased. “One in town and one at the castle. Too far, I’m afraid.”
“Who else? A nurse. Anyone. Who lives near here?”
A hint of hope glistened in Saul’s moist eyes. “The coven. The witches’ coven is near.”
“Witches.” Mace had come across several covens in his long life and knew just how powerful some of them were. Hell, one had helped him save Blanca and Kaige from the Vampire slave ring. Of course, he’d had to bargain with them. There was always a fee of some sort with witches. But it didn’t matter. He’d do anything to save Nayla. “Let’s go.”
“And what about us?” Kaige asked. “What about your pack, Mace? Would you like us to wait around until the damn guard attacks us again? You’re our leader for a reason. You’re supposed to make the decisions to protect us and keep us together.”
Mace glanced around at the faces of his pack and then at Nayla. “You’re all ablebodied. You do what you must to survive. My mate is my priority now. She needs my help. If you choose to follow me to the witches’ coven, then I’ll gladly be your trusted leader when I know for certain she’ll live. If you choose to leave, you’ll be cut of your ties to me and I’ll wish you the best.”
Without another thought, Mace carefully bundled her up in his arms. The decision to stay in Paqualette to save his mate would’ve surprised him a year ago, hell, a week ago, but now it was the only choice. His pack had been his life, his heart, his pride. He’d killed for them. He’d die for them. But if there was a chance he could save Nayla, the woman to whom he’d given half his soul, then he’d damn well follow through.
Saul quickly led the way through the forest until they reached a visible trail. Behind Mace footsteps followed, some human, some wolf. But he refrained from turning to see who remained and who he’d never see again.
The lush body in his arms was limp and pale, her lips blue. How much longer? He readjusted her, cradling her with one a
rm and pressed harder on the gouge. The bleeding had slowed but her pulse had slowed as well. Damn it all to hell.
He gritted his teeth and shoved the disparaging thoughts from his mind.
She’d live and he’d make love to her again. Hell, he’d be her damn WereSlave if that would guarantee her survival.
Anything.
He’d do anything.
Chapter Eleven
Seven thatched-roof bungalows sat in a tidy row along the shallow, narrow creek. They showed no signs of life except for the last one on the left, which had a single candle flickering in the window.
A beacon of light, Mace thought.
Hope.
That’s where he would take her.
“Stay here,” he yelled over his shoulder to the remainder of his pack, catching a
glimpse of most of his followers. Only Kaige was missing. The realization was a punch to his gut. He’d lost his best friend to save the life of his mate.
Kaige, the damn fool, wasn’t as loyal as Mace had hoped.
To hell with it. He shook off the disappointment and nodded to the steadfast group and then to Saul. Now he knew who he could trust. “Thank you for staying. Guard these homes. I’ll call you if I need you.”
Determination fueling him, he leapt over the creek and didn’t bother to knock as he pushed through the door. The sturdy slab of wood swung open and hit the wall. A middle-aged woman with silver and black streaks of long, wiry hair stood just beyond with her hands clasped in front of her and a meek smile on her face.
As if she’d been waiting for them.
“Set her in there.” The woman gestured toward an open bedroom door, her white linen gown swooshing with her movement, reminding Mace of an angel.
Please, if there was a god, any god, then let her be an angel.
Without a word, he strode into the bedroom and set Nayla’s lifeless body on the mattress, careful not to jostle her wound.
The witch made her way to the other side of the bed with a small tin pot cradled in her hands. Steam billowed from the top.
“What is that?” Mace asked.
“Something to soothe her pain. A remedy of sorts.”
He was tempted to ask how she knew to prepare her medicine beforehand but
decided not to press his luck. The witches he’d known in the past were quite secretive of their powers.
With smooth hands that appeared younger than her age, she scooped a handful of white fatty mush from the pot and placed it on Nayla’s neck.
“My mother’s recipe,” the woman said with a wink.
Who gave a damn, as long as it worked? Mace pushed any doubt from his mind and sat next to Nayla. He leaned toward the witch so she’d see the seriousness on his face. “Can you help her? As you can see she’s lost a lot of blood.”
She shrugged and maneuvered the mush to cover the gouge, avoiding eye contact. “I might be able to help. What sort of person would I be if I didn’t attempt to save my Queen?”
“A dead person. A fucking corpse.” Mace swallowed the anger rising in his throat. Her nonchalance was grinding his last nerve. Leave it to a witch to minimize a dire situation.
“Threats will get you nowhere, Mace.”
“How do you know my name?”
“The Queen’s WereSlave?” She arched a salt and pepper brow. “Who in Paqualette doesn’t know who you are? I think it’s sweet that you’ve fallen in love with your master. A big mean ol’ Were like yourself.” She cocked her head. “By the way, my name is Lorzener, though my girls call me Lorze. You, honey, can call me whatever you want.”
“I’m not here to play games, woman,” he spat out. “If you have the means to save her life you better damn well do everything in your power.”
Her irritating smile didn’t fade. “And what will I get in return?”
Of course.
“Anything. Name it.” There was no time for bartering.
Lorzener’s deep blue gaze swept over his body. She seemed undaunted that he was covered head to toe with blood. Fenton’s blood. The bastard deserved to die a hundred painful deaths for what he’d done to Nayla.
Mace reveled in the memory, pleased he’d been the one to extract Fenton’s evil soul from this earth. To shred the bitter flesh from his bones. To crush the last breath of air from his lungs.
Lorzener’s eyes widened and locked in when her gaze reached his dick, forcing him back to the here and now. The grim reality. No matter what he’d done to Fenton, Nayla was still in danger.
“What?” he growled at the witch.
“You’re impressive. It’s no wonder she picked you.” She met his stare and twisted her grin. “I suspect the two of you are quite a sight in the throes of passion. A beauty and her beast.”
“There’s no time for your jokes, witch. What the hell do you want?” “I can make her a Were, an immortal just like you. Can you imagine that? A Were for our Queen?” She laughed. “Paqualette would never be the same with all those puppies running around.”
“No! That’s not an option.” Not when he’d lost his Elizabeth the same way. What were the odds of Nayla surviving the plague, especially when she was half-dead to begin with?
“Why not?” Her smile finally weakened. “If she doesn’t die today, she’ll die ten, twenty, thirty years from now. That’s a blink of an eye for an immortal, is it not?”
“It is.” He couldn’t argue. “But inflicting the plague is too risky. There has to be another way. Look at her,” he said, but couldn’t stomach doing the same. How could he watch her perish before his very eyes? “You must save her.”
“You realize I wouldn’t have let you in my home if I didn’t want to help.” The smile returned. “Queen Nayla is by far my favorite of the Queens who have ruled this country. She can see past the nonsense and make fair decisions.”
Why was she talking so much? “And? Get on with it, woman.”
“And if I save her life, I ask that she remains here in Paqualette.”
“That’s it? That’s what you want in return?”
She shrugged. “An invitation to the castle every so often would greatly improve my
coven’s reputation. As it is, we’re feared or hated by most of the townsfolk. It’s no fun worrying if mutiny is afoot. One night we’ll go to sleep and the next thing we know, our heads will be on the slab. Can you imagine fearing for your life every second of the day?” She bunched her brows together and laughed. “Never mind. I suppose you can relate.”
Mace shook his head in disbelief. “So you’d like a dinner invitation?”
“To the balls as well. My girls don’t get out very often. They’d enjoy mingling with some of the finer men of Paqualette.”
“Very well. I’m sure Nayla wouldn’t have a problem with that.”
“Or you? You’ll be King, won’t you? There’ll be co-sovereignty, will there not? I can’t imagine an alpha Were agreeing to anything less.”
“Yes, of course.” Whatever it takes. If he needed to be king of this god-forsaken country for Nayla, then he would. He just wanted her to live. He wanted to see her face its natural color and hear her laugh. Or simply breathe, goddamn it.
“Wonderful.”
“Then you’ll help her?” Yes. Hope filled his lungs.
She twisted her thin lips into a smile and waved her hand toward Nayla. “Ta da! There you go, King Mace. I’ve already done all I can.”
“What the hell does that mean?” He looked down at his mate and was surprised to see the blob of medicine had disintegrated and the cut on her neck was completely healed. But her face was still pale and her lips still blue.
He peered at the witch, who was walking out the door. “What happened? She’s not recovered yet.”
“It will take some time,” she said lightly and leaned against the door frame, “although I used the accelerated version of the plague so she should be completely transformed by morning. You won’t have to wait weeks until you know if she’ll make it.”
Mace stilled. He couldn’t believe his ears. “The plague? You infected her? After I told you not to?”
“How else did you think I would save her? She was on her last breath when you brought her to me.”
He growled under his breath as every muscle in his body tensed. “Damn you, you wench. I told you infecting her wasn’t an option.”
She rolled her eyes. “Too late. It was either the Were plague or an injection of Vampire blood and I heard Weres have an aversion to the fanged species.” Her shrill laugh echoed in his ears. “Wouldn’t want to make your relationship any more complicated, dear. Now, take care of her. You both have a long night in front of you.”
He stepped toward her, ready to wring her thin neck but he clenched his hands instead. He might still need the wicked witch. “Do you understand what you’ve done? If she survives she’ll never forgive me for allowing this to happen. If she dies, you’ll pay for her death. Either way, you’re doomed.”
“Mace, honey, you really should work on your manners if you’re going to be the King. Tomorrow, when you’re feeling less dismal, I expect at least a thank-you.” She released an annoyingly cheery sigh. “My girls will be here in a moment to clean you two up. The Queen’s going to want you to comfort her through the pain of transforming. And you’ll want to battle that pain with the pleasure only you can give her.”
“Pleasure?” Was she insane? Yes, of course she was.
“You know. Sex. A little moaning and groaning will help her tremendously.” She winked and closed the door behind her, leaving the room with only the light of the moon shining through the window.
Mace looked down at his fragile mate covered in blood. If she got through the transformation without dying then he’d have her for eternity. A beat of optimism slipped through his thoughts followed by the cut of reality. If she lived to be a Were, she’d hate him. She’d become her worst nightmare.