by S. D. Grimm
She squeezed his hand. “That’s a noble fear. I believe it will make you try harder than most men to be there for those you love. You’re more loyal than you let on, aren’t you?”
Yes. He wanted to say yes. Never wanted this moment to end, but the ripping pain in his back tried to steal him away from the memory. He held on. Gripped her hand tighter.
“Ryan?” Serena’s voice was fading. “What is it?”
“I—don’t go. I–I need you. Serena, I need you.”
Her face started to fade. He screamed.
“That’s enough.” Belladonna’s harsh voice pulled him away from Serena. Her face. Her touch. And even as he called her name, he was back in the pit being tortured. He gasped for air as the whip struck him again.
“I said enough!” Belladonna yelled.
Nothing. Ryan dangled there. The metal shackles cutting into his wrists were the only things keeping him upright. His legs had already given out. His left hand had swollen past normal size. And it throbbed. There couldn’t be anything left to peel from his burning back. His lungs couldn’t force out another scream if he tried.
“It’s not enough. Not for him.” Butch’s raspy voice made Ryan’s heart squeeze.
The soft clink of the objects in the whip converged as Butch readied for another blow. Ryan braced himself.
“Butch! I have to heal him. I say he’s done for today.”
Ryan hung there, waiting for another round. Instead, the manacles opened. He crumpled to the stone-cold ground. The salt from Belladonna’s palms touched his open lacerations. He was too weak to even pull away. He whimpered like a kicked dog.
Butch growled. “Don’t be too easy on him.”
“I won’t heal him completely,” she said.
The familiar heating sensation bled through Ryan’s body, blending into a welcome cooling. Relief was coming. Torture he could endure if relief would follow.
Weak.
She reduced his wounds to a hundred deep cuts as she moved her hands over them. Deep cuts were nothing compared to what they had been moments before. She took his left hand in hers and eased some of the pain. And he let her.
Broken.
It was his first battle and he’d already lost.
Chapter 10
Haunted Past
Logan led his Feravolk deeper into the woods toward the threat
amid the snarls and screams of battle. The Feravolk and abysshounds must be deeper in the woods. Perhaps they were causing the enemy to retreat. But he caught no sign of the woman Chloe had said saved her.
Westwind sniffed the air. “Are you sure this woman who saved Chloe is even alive? Wait, I—” Westwind skidded to a halt.
Aurora stopped and backed up a few paces, tail tucked. “No.”
Logan slowed as his friends rushed deeper into the woods, save Melanie and Gavin, who remained with him.
Gavin looked at Logan. “What’s wrong?”
Logan faced Aurora. Her tongue darted out between her bared teeth, and she flattened her ears. “I’m not going. I won’t face her.”
Logan crouched near the wolf. “No one will make you do anything you can’t. But tell me, Aurora. Who won’t you face?” He ran his fingers over the hilt of his sword.
Her golden eyes looked so deep into his. Her pupils were huge and she trembled. “Rebekah.”
Logan rocked back on his heels and his heart slammed painfully against his ribs. No. Not her. Not now. Anything but this. He could not face his wife again. Not after last time. Someone touched his shoulder and he stood.
“Logan? What’s wrong?” Melanie’s concern would have been welcome if she didn’t sound so much like her sister.
“It’s Rebekah. She saved Chloe. My guess is she’s trying to find out where Chloe is headed. She wants the Deliverers for Franco, the Mistress, who knows.” His voice rose and he hadn’t intended for it to.
Melanie backed away from him. “Maybe she—”
“No, Mel. She’s gone. I told you what happened in the palace.”
Tears welled in Melanie’s eyes, and she straightened her spine. “So you’re going to let those monsters kill my sister? Your wife?”
Logan’s heart ached. “They won’t kill her. She brought them.”
Aurora went rigid. “She’s coming.”
Melanie’s eyes pleaded with Logan. So she still loved her sister. Logan’s jaw tightened. “Maybe you two shouldn’t be here.”
“I’m staying.” Melanie met his gaze, harsh as a mountain lion.
Westwind growled and stood in front of his mate. A woman raced into the clearing, red streaked her arm, a cut marred her cheek. Logan’s heart nearly stopped. Her golden hair fluttered in the breeze, caressing her face. Her small stature did not take away from her confidence. The simple gray cloak she wore was not something Logan had seen palace inhabitants wearing. Her dress underneath was a shimmering blue—very much palace apparel. She had the same stunning brown eyes. Just as he remembered them. Her mouth opened as she looked at him, and she nearly stopped running. Then she raced toward him. “Run!”
Logan stood his ground as the other Feravolk raced through the woods, abysshounds on their trail.
Westwind’s head shot up. “Logan?”
“I can’t let any of these beasts get back to the Mistress. We fight them.” He glanced at Aurora. “Aurora, you do not need to stand with me.”
“Yes. I do.” Her voice trembled.
At least a dozen wolf-like creatures, as tall as horses and black and red as burning coal broke through the trees after them. The Feravolk who had just come in with Logan raised their weapons and shot flaming arrows as their tired comrades raced behind them. The creatures still stalked forward, even with arrows sticking out of their bodies like flaming quills.
Gavin called for another onslaught of arrows. Finally, one of the creatures reared up and burst into flame. The others hissed and bounded forward.
Rebekah stood next to Logan and braced for the onslaught. “I never expected to see you here.” She smiled, but tears coated her eyes. She raised her daggers. “They won’t die unless you have a Wielder-crafted weapon or fire.”
He nodded but wouldn’t look at her. Half of his heart still beat for her. He ignored it. The creatures headed right for the pair of them. Logan readied his weapon, and as he fought alongside his wife, something in his heart wanted this to be the Blood Moon wars again, if only for a moment, if only so he could believe she was still on his side. Still had his back.
His sword punctured one beast’s hide, and it snapped at him with jaws. Heat and cold poured out of its mouth like smoke. Rebekah buried her sword in the beast’s skull. It turned and bit at her.
Logan slid across the dirt and leaves until he was under the creature. Arrows covered its body, spreading fire over its fur. Logan stood and slammed his blade into the creature’s heart. It reared. Snarled. Its paws slammed against the ground, hard, and it turned on Logan, bashing into him with its shoulder. He stumbled back, and that’s all the creature needed. It pinned him to the ground.
He tried to free his sword arm to attack another beast that charged him, but a blade sliced deep into the side of its skull.
With a deep moan, the creature toppled over, dead.
Breathing hard, Logan stood and faced Rebekah. She’d saved him. His heart wrenched. That meant she wanted to get close to him for some reason. Could he turn her away? Was he strong enough?
He scanned the area. All the remaining creatures lay dead. Their bodies smoldered in the wind. And at least thirteen Feravolk didn’t stand. Something in his chest crumbled.
Thirteen.
And seven of their animals.
How many more lives would they lose?
His warriors started to help take care of the wounded, but Rebekah moved toward them, as if to help. Logan wasn’t going to let Rebekah anywhere near his warriors. He motioned toward her and faced one of the young Dissenters. “Take this prisoner back to our camp.”
The
young man looked at Rebekah. “Sir?”
Rebekah didn’t appear to notice what Logan had said. Her eyes were glued on her sister. “Mel.”
A tear dripped down Melanie’s cheek. Gavin placed his hand on his sword. Melanie shrank behind her husband. Callie, Melanie’s mountain lion, paced behind them. Glider, Gavin’s eagle, fluttered down and perched atop Gavin’s shoulder.
A chill tumbled down Logan’s spine when Rebekah’s eyes met his. Her cheeks filled with a bit of red despite the cooling autumn air. “Logan?”
This Rebekah was very unlike the one he’d seen in the dark tunnel of the palace. This Rebekah was alive, vibrant, beautiful, everything he remembered.
“Rebekah.” He bobbed his head.
She tilted her head to the side. “Rebekah?”
Why did that surprise her? She had to know he wouldn’t be running into her arms. “That’s your name, isn’t it?” He leaned back against a nearby tree, everything in him trembling, fighting against the sanity he barely held on to.
“Of course.” Her sparkling eyes searched him, eyelids fluttering. “Did you—did we speak, when you were in the palace?”
“When you tried to kill me?”
“Oh.” She stepped closer to him, brows pulling together. Dissenters with swords blocked her path. She pointed at their poised weapons. “What is the meaning of all of this? Am I some traitor that you have to question me? Then get the questioners. I have news for you that cannot wait.”
Logan chuckled. “News? So that’s your plea? You have news for us?”
“Don’t play games, Logan. It was me locked up in the palace for the last seventeen years with no rescue, and I’m treated like a criminal after I escape and find you. Am I so untrustworthy?”
He pushed off the tree and pointed his knife at her. “You tried to kill me. You are nothing but a palace pawn.”
“Is that the lie you’ve been telling yourself? You know me better than that.”
“Yes.” He walked closer. Swords pulled from his path until he stood directly in front of her, towering over her. “I have some news of my own, Rebekah.” She flinched. His heart squeezed. “I saw what you did that night.”
Behind him, Aurora let out a snarl. The old bond pulled at her. The wolf’s heart ached. She hid behind Westwind and whined as if in pain. Westwind lowered his head, staring at Rebekah. Aurora bristled and showed her teeth, but moved away with her tail tucked.
“The night I tried to kill you? I was spelled, Logan. I remember nothing.”
“Not that night, Rebekah. The night of the Blood Moon.”
Her brows furrowed and she shook her head. “If you saw what I did that night, why are you calling me a traitor? You must have known that I was protecting the Deliverers.” Her eyes bored into him, trying to reach the soft side of his heart. “You.”
“You expect me to believe you weren’t part of Idla’s plans? You handed her our son.” His throat grew thick. “How could you?”
Trembling, she backed away from him. “Who told you this?”
“Told me? I saw it for myself. You took our son and boarded the queen’s carriage. I heard you tell our child he was safe.”
Her head shook, her mouth opened, but no words came out. One tear trailed down her cheek. So she understood what he’d seen. There would be no more deception. No more lies.
“It’s not what you think,” she whispered.
He closed his eyes. “Lies now?” When he met her tearful gaze, he made his glare cold. “The Rebekah I knew was above lies.”
“I’m still above lies, Logan.” She grabbed his shirt. A sword rose, but Logan put out his hand to stop the man. He looked into the eyes of a desperate liar. Her world of deception unraveled at her feet, and she mourned it instead of coming clean. Was there nothing good left in her heart? He closed his fingers around her wrists and ripped her hands from his shirt.
Unable to bear the way her tearful gaze called to his heart, he turned away from her. He’d never face her again. His last memory of her was made. He looked at the young man again. “Take her to the prisoner’s tent. She’ll await her punishment.”
Westwind had turned with him, but Aurora stared at Rebekah for a beat more. Tears brimmed in Melanie’s eyes.
“Logan, wait. Hear me. Please?” Rebekah’s voice changed. Sorrow painfully deep filled it, and she sounded like a mourning wolf. “You loved me once!”
Her words grabbed his heart and jerked him to a halt. He balled his hands into fists. He would not turn to see her, not until he was stone again.
“That”—He faced her, surprised at the fury in his steady voice—“was before you took my children from me.” He walked toward her, fingernails digging into his palms.
She sank to her knees. Tears streamed down her face.
He would not comfort her. “You handed him to the enemy. You became the enemy.”
She spoke in a whisper so small only his wolf hearing picked it up. “What you think happened didn’t.”
Melanie broke free of Gavin and gripped Logan’s sleeve. “Please. Can we hear her side?”
Logan stared at her. He expelled a breath and turned toward Rebekah. She hadn’t moved. Her head remained bowed. He knelt next to her. Aurora lay down and crawled closer.
“What happened?” he asked.
Rebekah’s delicate hand fingered one of the orange leaves on the forest floor, but she picked up a red one, blood red. “She came to me in my sleep somehow. Queen Idla.” She looked at Logan when she said that, but turned her eyes back to the leaf. “She was certain I would have two of the Deliverers. She put a trace spell on me. Told me that if I were to tell you anything she’d kill you, harm my children. She had spies, Logan, and I was scared.” Again she brought her tearful eyes up to meet his, but he gave her nothing in return, except a curt nod.
Her eyelids fluttered. “That night you tried to leave me with our son while you took our daughter. I tried to get you to take both babies, but you were afraid someone would catch you. I understood that fear. So I gave you our daughter, with a false letter Idla had drawn up. I knew that would be easy for you to resolve, and that you’d probably figure things out if you saw it. But I knew she would come for me.
“I left the tent right after you. There was so much screaming, so much chaos. Our son was quiet. He knew the secrecy of our mission from the beginning, Logan.” She looked up at him with a smile and teary eyes. It vanished when he met her with his cold glare. She dropped her head again. Hurting her was like a knife in his heart, but he couldn’t be taken by another lie.
“I ran, knowing that I had to give him to someone,” she continued. “As sure as the Creator lives, the opportunity came. A woman I barely knew sat with her baby in her arms, crying for someone to help her. The confusion all around had rendered her helpless. I knelt next to her, putting our son behind me so that she wouldn’t see him. She clutched my shoulder, screaming, ‘He’s not breathing!’ I took her baby from her and told her I could help her, but she’d have to calm down. I replaced the dead baby with our son. I rubbed his back to make her think I was reviving her child. Then our boy cried. I hid the dead boy under my cloak and gave her our son instead. So he would be safe.”
More tears spilled down her face. “She was so happy. So in love with him. I asked her name. She told me it was Leah Branor. I had heard of the Branors. They were a nice but poor family originally from Nivek. She said she would never forget me, and I told her my name and yours. Then I called for one of the carts taking the mothers away and made sure she got on it.
“I took her boy to the outskirts to be buried, but I knew I was running out of time. I felt the queen’s pull. She was coming near. Searching for me.
“Something caught my skirt as I ran. I turned to loosen it, but it was a wolf, Logan. A wolf. She told me I was chosen to take her pup. A dream told her he would be raised in violence and that I would care for him. Five wolf pups circled her paws, and she picked up one of the five—a brown wolf—and set him at my feet
. When I touched him, he turned into a human baby and cried.
“The wolf told me she’d bury the Feravolk baby. I left that one and took the wolf baby and raced back to my tent. I had no time for questions, no time for anything. But when I got there, you still weren’t back. Idla was there. And there I stood with the baby that the wolf had given me.
“She sent me to her carriage. I went, knowing she would hurt you if I didn’t. And yes, Logan, I told the baby he was safe.” She looked at him, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks. “What was I supposed to tell him? He needed to know he was safe, that I would never let anyone hurt him.” Her eyes accused him, and it was worse than a knife in the heart.
He’d betrayed her.
His own wife.
How could he have trusted Idla over Rebekah? The mirror had showed truth, but Idla had corrupted it with lies. Made him believe what she wanted him to believe.
“Logan?” Rebekah tilted her head. “You do believe me, don’t you?”
Of course. The answer had been in her words the whole time: Branor. Leah Branor. How else would Rebekah know the name?
He placed a hand on her shoulder. It fit in his palm, warm and familiar. And that touch reminded him of the ache he still held for her. The scent of red roses surrounded him. “The boy, you said his name was Branor?”
“Yes. Do you know the Branors?” She grabbed his hands in hers. “She named him Ethan. Our son, his name is Ethan. I like the name, Logan.” A sparkle lit her eyes.
Logan tried to swallow past the tightening in his throat. How could he have ever doubted her? “I . . .” What could he say? How could he apologize?
He’d wronged her so deeply, and she sat smiling at him through the tears.
Ethan.
Ethan was his son?
His heart wanted to leap, yet pain made it heavy.
A cool nose nudged his arm, and Aurora’s muzzle pushed his hand. He let go of Rebekah with one hand to allow the wolf in. “Logan?” Aurora’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “May I?”
