This time, her eyes dilated.
Theo laughed. “Shall I dress her in baggy sweats next time? Would that satisfy you?”
The truth was, Thalia very rarely noticed what she was wearing. Back at the palace, she’d spent most of her time naked to facilitate the shift. Then, in Heden, she’d grown accustomed to wearing a toga which gave the best access to all the important bits. She was just grateful that thinking about clothes was on Theo’s agenda, otherwise she’d be bare-assed all the time.
Even though her grandmother had, thoughtfully, provided her with a wardrobe, why bother when Theo could literally shower her, dry her, totally Vidal Sassoon her hair, then dress her in less than a blink of an eye?
That was more than just smart, it was efficient.
Peering down at her slacks, she noticed they were kind of tight. Very well-tailored in that they draped along her strong legs, giving her a length that was definitely an illusion. Throw in a thin sweater with thick plaits down the front in a bright fuchsia, she guessed she looked smart?
But fuckable?
She peered over her shoulder to stare at the ass in question. Though she wanted to smack him for declaring he’d put a flag on it, she also wanted to chuckle. The man had zero filter when it came to her and sex. And that filter was usually at the most vulnerable moments—she’d have to watch him for that.
He liked to break up sensitive and tender situations with his crassness, and while that was okay for the moment, he’d have to come to terms with the fact he needed her for more than just sex.
She wasn’t insecure in his feelings for her. She knew he loved her even though he didn’t say the words often. She knew he’d die as well as kill for her, and for a man like Mikkel, that was saying a lot. But, that didn’t mean he was comfortable with feeling so much in such a short space of time.
She was okay with that. Just like with Theo, time was on her side.
Thalia didn’t give a fuck what happened over the upcoming months, her mate bonds were never in any doubt with her.
Not now. Not anymore.
She was pregnant, she was claimed. But more than that, they weren’t holding her back. They knew what she had to do and rather than make her stay at home, they were letting her be who she’d been born to be.
Theo had even brought her sword back from Heden for her!
No, she loved her males. Loved them with an intensity that surprised her considering how long she’d needed them, but what she loved the most? They were behind her. One hundred percent. And, when she needed them, would be at her side, razing hell itself to protect what was theirs.
****
Mikkel
Was he nervous?
Yes.
Was he scared?
No.
Mikkel knew there was a difference. He’d felt it enough in the sandbox. Nerves were more irritating. They put a man on edge, dulled his senses a tad, but didn’t incapacitate him wholly. Scared was a different kettle of fish. That decimated control, could ruin a mission, could literally make or break a unit.
Such a short time ago, she’d been standing in the center of the arena, and he’d been sitting here watching her, but everything had changed. In that short time, he’d ceased denying what she was to him. Had been claimed by her, and had claimed her in turn. He’d felt gutless then, but now? He was proud. Proud to watch her own this moment.
She was so small, too small, really, to be so fucking kickass. His woman was a badass, and no mistake. With that sword strapped to her back, her arms at her sides, and a bored look on her face, she was at a disadvantage and yet, he didn’t doubt her. Didn’t doubt what she could and would do.
These bastards had fucked with her. Had fucked her over. And they would pay for that.
Less than ten days ago on this realm, he’d felt like a pussy. Watching a woman protect herself. Sitting on the sidelines, being useless, not having a purpose. That wasn’t, and never had been, his goal in life. If it had been, he’d never have joined the Army. In fact, fuck that, he’d never have strived for so long and for so hard, to get through West Point, would never have commissioned as an officer, risen through the ranks.
He wasn’t a man made for sitting and watching. He wanted in on the action.
And yet, here she was. Making him watch again, and he couldn’t wait for the show.
Armed with that fucking sword, she was like something from a goddamn Tarantino movie. He could almost envision her in a yellow catsuit slicing through hundreds of Triads as they came at her, no fear in her bones, just vengeance in her heart.
Well, vengeance, and love for him. Them.
He took a look at Rafe and Theo. Last time, Rafe had been a bag of nerves. This time, he was calm. He was seated, but had leaned forward to rest his arms on the railing that surrounded the box where family members of the challengers, and the Alpha and his Beta were seated. He wasn’t edgy, wasn’t antsy. If anything, he was calm. Resolute.
Rafe didn’t doubt, just as Mikkel didn’t, that Thalia could handle this.
She was without her She-Wolf, but she had that fucking sword, and she had Rafe. He’d heal her in the blink of an eye if she got hurt, making her pretty much untouchable.
And wasn’t that the best advantage to have in a fight?
He grinned at the thought.
Theo was standing. He leaned against the railing too, but his legs were crossed at the ankle as he watched over the stadium which was slowly filling up. The huge crowds this place pulled in was pretty sick. And not in a good way. Mikkel had never understood why the pack got off on this—and he was a fighter. He knew the importance violence played in society, even if nobody liked to admit it. But this? It was too gladiatorial for his liking, and ever since Commodus had fucked with the Gladiator himself: Maximus Decimus Meridius, Russell Crowe had ruined these shitstorms for him.
It seemed like Theo didn’t particularly appreciate the arena either. His lips were pursed and he wasn’t tense—the bastard never was—but he was watchful. Waiting.
For this to be over?
Could be.
They had business in this realm. Not just with the Gammas in this pack, but Thalia’s role as Triskele wasn’t exactly over. It never would be. Her grandfathers had mentioned, before they’d left, that another human politician had been mauled to death by an apparent wolf attack—in Washington DC of all places, because yeah, wolves were par for the course on Capitol Hill—and that it was showing all the signs of a rabid Wolf being to blame. The two Hunters they’d sicced on the bastard hadn’t managed to capture him, and Mikkel knew Thalia’s interest had been further pricked at that news.
Hadn’t her fathers, after all, been some of the best, the most famous and infamous Hunters around? Even he, who hadn’t learned jack about Lyken history, knew her fathers had a sick reputation.
He could almost see her need to impress them. To take down a rabid Wolf and to show them she was capable—perhaps, even better, than they’d been.
Was it childish?
Perhaps. But when wasn’t someone childish when it came to their parents?
It pretty much came with the territory.
A low hush spread through the stadium, making him realize the gates to the arena had opened. The stands were crowded, so that there was silence at all was pretty much miraculous, but it also spoke of the show they expected to see tonight.
Thalia’s last challenge had drawn a crowd, but not like this. Word had obviously spread.
He rubbed his chin as three men strode into the arena. He’d met them once, had thought them cunts on sight, and now? He wanted her to lop their motherfucking heads off.
Those bastards had almost taken his mate from him. Mikkel, not entirely comfortable with his emotions, was head over fucking heels for Thalia—he could accept that now because they had tried to steal her from him. If he didn’t know she could handle this, and if he didn’t know she wanted their blood as much as he did, he’d be furious that she wanted to take this kill from him.
&nbs
p; The thought made his brain stutter to a halt.
Take this kill from him?
What the fuck?
Frowning, he shook his head to dispel the aggressive thought and forced himself to focus on Thalia. She hadn’t moved a muscle between the gate opening and now. Her face was relaxed, her posture close to bored.
Intrigued by the sight, his cock hardening at the power she exuded—a power that she’d submitted to him several times since she’d claimed him as her mate—he glued his gaze upon her and watched the procession.
Because a procession it was.
Far less fancy than a Thanksgiving parade, but it was still a show.
The three Alphas came in varying shapes and sizes. Stevenson was a little rounded and stiff in the shoulders, even though Rafe had worked his magic on him earlier and removed any and all aches and pains. It was kind of ironic really. Being healed only to be annihilated, but Mikkel appreciated it.
The beast within him appreciated it.
And he wasn’t talking about the man who’d seen shit and done shit overseas. He was talking about the weird snake thing that was a part of his soul.
The way he wanted to lash out at the Alphas strutting towards his woman?
That wasn’t like him.
He was cool. Chill, even. Under fire, in the sandbox, he was renowned for his confidence as well as his skill and expertise while under the most extreme pressure.
He did not want to tear people’s heads off.
He could have reasoned that it was because they’d hurt Thalia, but that was bullshit. She wasn’t the first woman he’d loved—if his sisters or mother were hurt, he’d want vengeance like any average guy. Through the laws of the land.
He fought and battled for a living to maintain the rights that so many took for granted here. He strove to keep this little chunk of home pure and good. No way would he want to wreck that by going vigilante. That wasn’t this world. His world.
And yet now, things were changing.
The rage within him?
It threatened to choke him.
He watched as the Alphas took their position. Stevenson in the middle, Kinnock and Haraldsson either side of him. The four challengers stood positioned like a triangle, with Thalia being at the peak.
When the silence continued, the crowd’s impatience to know more thrumming around the stands, she reached behind her. Dressed in the free flowing pants and loose top Theo had her training in, she looked comfortable. She also looked unshielded with the lack of chainmail, but he knew that was him being a pussy on her behalf.
If any of them got anywhere past that sword, he’d eat a PB&J and dogshit sandwich.
That was how fucking certain he was.
Rubbing his jaw, he watched the jolt of surprise hit the crowd like a Mexican wave as the sound of the sword scraping against the scabbard ricocheted, the stadium perfectly echoing it around and around on repeat.
“A few days ago, on a Full Moon Run with my family,” Thalia started, her voice clear and just loud enough to project, “I was shot. I wasn’t challenged. I wasn’t approached by the men who were angry with me. I was shot. By human hunters on Pack land.”
A hum throbbed through the crowd, whispers starting to stir and churn at her words.
“Not only was I shot, the bullet was reinforced with mercury.”
Sharp gasps came next from the women, and the men stiffened in outrage.
To use mercury against their own was disrespectful and just not done. Mikkel wasn’t pack but even he knew that.
“I almost died. Only because of the gifts possessed by my mates am I here today. But sadly, for these three men here, I was alive and well enough to investigate who organized those assassins to be there on my behalf. What did I discover? That the three Alphas who I’d just micromanaged had come at me like pussies.” She grinned, but it was more of a baring of teeth. “I come here unable to shift.” Another gasp. “My She-Wolf is injured.” Mikkel saw her take note of the sudden relief that made the men’s posture soften, grow less strained. Less fearful. “But I still come to fight as is my right.”
“What do you say to this accusation?” Jacobs hollered out, a few feet away from Mikkel and his brothers.
“I say this woman is foolish,” Stevenson barked.
“I say she needs to find better investigators.” Kinnock’s jaw clenched as he sneered at her. Mikkel figured he was aiming for a look of righteous fury, when instead, he just looked fucking scared.
“And I’d ask what right she has to challenge three innocent men,” Haraldsson snapped, sounding a little more lucid than he’d had a few days ago.
Had Thalia’s visit made him go cold turkey? He knew how much heroine a Lyken had to take to even feel the after-effects of the drug. It was for that reason, and that reason alone, they were more prone to addiction.
It was a sorry twist of fate, actually.
The very fact they couldn’t feel the high, didn’t mean their bodies couldn’t get addicted. And with each buzz fading faster, they sought more and more.
The joy, on the other hand, being that it did flush out of their system faster than with humans so long as more wasn’t thrown into their system. And it seemed like Haraldsson had played it smart and stayed away from the hardcore drugs since Thalia had reprimanded him last.
“And I say you’re all liars,” Thalia growled. “Consider yourselves challenged. Remember, this is not to the death, however, you may lay your surrenders down at any given point and I will see to it that your decision not to fight me spreads far and wide.”
It sounded like a kind offer. If they surrendered, they’d live. But their reputations would be torn to shreds, and no Alpha would ever allow that. It was a non-offer, and the little cat knew it. He didn’t even care that she was a Wolf. Cats toyed with their food before killing them, and that was what she was doing.
The next two minutes made his cock harder than he’d ever known it could be, and had his heart pounding faster than he knew how to deal with.
When the men accepted the challenge and took their stances, he watched as Thalia showed them exactly what a true Alpha was, and made them pay.
9
Thalia
The second Kinnock went for her, she saw the game plan. Now that he was healed, Stevenson was strong. She didn’t doubt that they’d come together as friends out to get a mutual enemy—her.
Kinnock and Haraldsson would wear her down, ready and waiting for Stevenson to take her out.
Like that was going to happen.
Today was not her day to die.
She wasn’t sure when that would be. If it would even be. Theo had made it sound like her dying wasn’t a foregone conclusion, like it was for the rest of the damn world.
Still, now wasn’t the time for such thoughts.
The sword, on this realm, worked with a power that was unsurpassed. Here, it felt like it was alive. Buzzing with energy. Guiding her, telling her which way to slay, which way to thrust and parry.
As Kinnock came at her, she kept an eye out for the other males in front of her. If they tried to get around her, tried to encircle her, it would be harder to take them out. Not impossible, simply harder, and she really didn’t want to take a long time over this shit.
She’d wasted enough energy on these bastards, and she had a message to send.
Her word was her bond.
It was time the pack realized that before she had the chance to take over her parents as one of the rulers of the TriAlpha.
She slashed the sword back and forth, never allowing Kinnock to get too close, never allowed him to grab her weapon from her hands—Theo had taught her well, but her instincts had taught her more.
When she stuck Kinnock with the sword, slicing through his stomach like she’d carve up a bratwurst on her plate, it was almost comical to behold. He gaped like a dying fish as blood spurted from the wounds.
His injuries triggered Haraldsson into shifting. Whether it was from a break in control or a desire to
protect himself, now they were a man down. Within seconds, Kinnock was on the floor, his hands grabbing at his stomach, and a Wolf was staring her down.
Lykens could survive grievous wounds with the help of a healer, and that healer was firmly on her side of the fence. No way was Rafe about to help one of her attackers, one of the cowardly bastards who’d tried to steal her from him and almost succeeded with that mission.
She switched her attention to the Wolf now. Seeing him made her wish like hell she could shift, even as she wondered why Kinnock and Stevenson hadn’t shifted at all.
Frowning, because that made no sense, she wondered what was stopping them from shifting or what it was that had made Haraldsson shift with no prior warning at all.
Had that been their plan? They’d wanted to cut her into thirds, had wanted to split her attention three ways and take advantage of all that meant?
She grinned as, when the Wolf leaped at her, its giant maw wide open, teeth exposed, drool flying everywhere, she spun on her heel, the sword clasped firmly in both hands and whacked him straight in the side with the flat of it.
Like a baseball, the Wolf, stunned, flew across the arena. Not far, his weight was too immense, but the unusualness of her attack had him floored.
Literally.
She strode over to him after casting a glance at the others. Kinnock was still on the ground. His face was pale from blood loss, and she could see death was near from the dazedness in his eyes and the way he’d stopped scrabbling to put pressure on the wound.
Stevenson was still watching her. His eyes tracking every move.
He’d be the hardest to defeat.
Hadn’t she already had her warnings? That he’d been in power so long because he was impossible to best in a challenge?
Anticipation flooded her as she strode over to the whimpering Wolf. She wasn’t sure why he hadn’t jumped immediately back onto his feet. It was likely a trap, and raising her sword over her head, she kicked at his hind legs with her foot. The minute his head snapped up, she grinned at him.
Then brought the sword down with a clean, if gory, strike.
Triumph Page 17