by Amira Rain
Joel’s scream was lost beneath many, many others as once-spectators flooded the arena.
Jonas hovered above Mary-Lou’s prone form, angry, scared, and triumphant all in one. His mate. His beautiful, brave mate. He growled, wrenching his twisted arm away from a well-meaning Healer; no. He would not be distracted, would not give into his own pain when Mary-Lou suffered so greatly.
“Jonas.”
Jonas fell to his knees, ignoring the fire-hot sting that lanced up his injured arm at the motion. Mary-Lou was speaking, Mary-Lou had raised her hand toward him, and—
Smacked him right over the nose.
Jonas’ confused whine cut off at his mate’s glare. “Let them help you,” Mary-Lou commanded, and the Lion Shifter hung his head in acknowledgment. He did not shrug off the Healer’s hands this time, letting the younger man treat him.
Sense returned slowly to Jonas. The fight was over, the Challenge – won, yet the Lion was still restless, still shifted in anger within the confines of Jonas’ mind. Shifting back to his human form took effort, required all of Jonas’ concentration and failing strength. The man concentrated on the pain that lit up his body, on the Healer’s – Erik, Jonas realized dimly, Rowfer’s grandson – hesitant touches. On his mate’s face, pale but determined. Alive. Mary-Lou was alive. Jonas grabbed her uninjured hand in his, lancing their fingers together.
The shift came easier after that. Jonas sighed as the last of his animalistic side receded, blinking sunlight and suddenly familiar faces into existence.
“Thank you, Rowfer,” Jonas croaked once he found his voice. The aged Healer nodded, narrowed eyes not straying from the wound in the human woman’s upper arm. The dagger had been removed, Jonas realized; Rowfer’s wrinkled hands bore the burn of silver, stank of the metal’s poison. The Alpha swallowed back words of caution, of concern, knowing they would not be welcomed. He offered his gratitude again instead, heartfelt and sincere.
“’Tis but fair,” Rowfer grumbled. The Healer had obviously not been supportive of the Challenge, yet had allowed himself to be bullied into participating. Hardly an act of honor, given that Rowfer likely suspected the match to be rotten from the start.
Throwing a glance at the quiet youth tending to his shoulder, Jonas found himself unable to feel anything but sympathy. He would have done much worse, had his family been at stake.
“Useless,” Rowfer snarled. The Healer seemed to be addressing his own hands, the fingers trembling with the poison of the silver. A moment later, he sighed and motioned his grandson closer. “Sew her up,” Rowfer demanded, handing the suddenly-pale man a needle and a spool of black thread. Jonas could not quite stifle a growl as Erik set to doing just that. Thankfully, the young Healer had more guts than he seemed to at first sight: Erik’s hands remained steady and sure as he patched Mary-Lou’s torn skin, his work unaffected by the possessive snarls of the Alpha looming at his back.
Then Rowfer got his hands on Jonas’ dislocated shoulder, and the Lion Shifter had nothing but moans of pain to offer.
Mary-Lou might have smiled, just a little. Jonas grit his teeth as strong fingers pressed his bones back into place, feeling ridiculously close to laughing himself.
Mary-Lou did not see Wiley or Joel again that day.
They were alive – Irma had made sure of it, unwilling to let the mob rule even when its actions were to her family’s gain. Wiley and Joel had been captured rather than torn apart: Bound in chains and dragged through a sneering crowd, to await whatever punishment the Law decreed within the confines of the stadium’s underbelly, under the severest of guards.
The Old Law, of course, decreed their death.
Irma’s actions were not guided by mercy. Instead, she sought to set a precedent – lead by example, so to speak. Joel and Wiley were to face the consequences of their actions before their peers, their punishment seen and heard by all rather than doled out by a few hot-blooded individuals.
Mary-Lou suspected that the irony of having the Wolf and Prince be the last to suffer under the Old Order had been a factor in her mother’s decision to let them live, as well. Mary-Lou did not look forward to the trial, did not wish to see its inevitable end. As her family had been the one affected by the men’s actions, however – as the one meant to change the Old ways and establish a new, kinder Order – Mary-Lou’s presence was more than required.
Mary-Lou thought of that and many other things as she lay in Jonas’ arms, tired and sore and still, yet again unable to sleep. Two days had passed since the match, since she wrestled Death from the hands of Fate and walked away, victorious. Her family had hardly left her side since, seemingly unable to let her or Jonas out of their sights.
It would have been cute, had the constant hovering not also been greatly annoying. The fact that her pack’s worried glances seemed to be reserved for Mary-Lou was particularly grating; yes, human healing was not as speedy or painless as its Shifter equivalent, but she was not a child, damn it!
Throwing random temper tantrums was not exactly supportive of her case.
Still, as Jonas stopped kissing her neck to ask – yet again – if she was well, Mary-Lou contemplated indulging in some childish screaming. Just for a bit.
Instead, she tightened her legs about Jonas’ hips, squeezed her mate’s thick cock where it pulsed, hot and eager inside of her, and moaned.
“Yes, goddamnit, Jonas, fuck—You can go harder, you stupid – yes, yes!”
Jonas growled in the plump softness of her breasts, movements speeding up as his mate’s voice rose in pleasure.
They were free. Safe. Mary-Lou kissed Jonas’ forehead, trailed hot lips down her mate’s nose. Jonas raised his head and she took his mouth in hers, bit and licked at the plump flesh of his lips.
“Want you,” he moaned, large hands kneading her breasts, trailing to caress her sides – to rest on her stomach. Mary-Lou shivered. “Please.”
“You’ve got me,” Mary-Lou smiled, arced her back in bliss as Jonas’ tempo increased, as the heat within her grew to a breaking point. “I’m yours,” she panted, thrust back against Jonas, clenched about his cock, “Yours, yours, only yours—”
“Mine,” Jonas agreed – snarled – and bit down, wide-mouthed and hungry. The spike of pain threw Mary-Lou over the edge, tightened her body until Jonas, too, tumbled after her.
Together. Finally, finally—
“Marry me,” Jonas whispered between kisses later, body curled over Mary-Lou’s supple form.
“Yes,” Mary-Lou sighed, let her thighs fall open as Jonas kissed his way down her stomach to where she was wet and warm, burning, “Yes!”
She meant it, too. Even though she suspected she would have agreed to anything Jonas had chosen to ask of her at that moment.
But marrying Jonas? That was easy enough.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Mary-Lou awoke with a start.
It was the day of the trial. Four thirty-two in the morning, to be precise – three hours and twenty-eight minutes before she was due to wake up, and several more until the trial itself. There was no reason to remain awake, to torture herself with images of what was to come, what Jonas would have to endure.
But Mary-Lou had dreamed. Sleep was no longer an option.
Mary-Lou got dressed quietly, efficiently. When Jonas woke – as she knew, expected he would – she told him of a vision, asked him to accompany her in her visit to Wiley. The invitation was but a formality; Mary-Lou knew Jonas would not let her go alone, knew he knew her well enough to know that she would go with or without his permission.
They did not alert the others. Mary-Lou left a note for Sasha and Cara, telling them to meet her and Jonas at the stadium. The structure had been left intact for the trial, to be demolished as soon as Joel and Wiley’s blood soaked its grounds.
Mary-Lou shook her head, willing her mind away from such thoughts. There was something else that demanded her attention – a wrong that had to be righted, before the chance slipped away forever.
&nb
sp; They drove in silence. Mary-Lou watched the empty fields that whirled past the car’s window; Jonas watched the road.
Soon enough, the car was slowing to a stop. Mary-Lou stumbled out of the passenger seat, green eyes grim as they took in the charred fields, the skeletal arena looming high above her. The Challenge had been but a week ago – seven days that felt like years and seconds at the same time.
“Lead the way,” she told Jonas when her mate moved to stand beside her. If Jonas was surprised at her words, at Mary-Lou’s knowledge of his visits to Wiley, he did not show it. The Lion Shifter simply nodded, guiding the human woman past the sullen-faced guards and down a dark, winding hallway.
Wiley was held at the very end, in a small chamber meant as a waiting room rather than a prison. Another pair of men stood guard by the doors. Jonas greeted them with a nod; he was let pass without further question, Mary-Lou following close behind.
They walked into an empty, dimly-lit room. There was no furniture; criminals were not allowed such luxuries. Along with light and basic medical help, it seemed: Wiley was laid against one of the far walls, body half-collapsed, half-hung from a sturdy metal plank. Bruises and cuts still littered the Wolf’s flesh, marking them as new, as torture-inflicted at the hands of the men and women who patrolled this makeshift prison. Mary-Lou shivered to see silver cuffs glint around Wiley’s swollen wrists, the metal releasing a barely-perceived poisonous steam where it came into contact with the Shifter’s skin.
“You again?” Wiley snarled. His voice, like the rest of him, seemed to have wasted away. He did not raise his eyes, obviously addressing Jonas. Likely unaware of Mary-Lou’s presence. “Am I that pretty of a sight?”
“No,” Mary-Lou said and watched Wiley stiffen, watched the Wolf shake with some unnamed emotion. She wondered if he would attempt to attack her even as the man subsided into his chains.
“Well, well,” Wiley drawled, stumbled over a dry cough. “Should have known you would show up sooner or later.” Wild, maddened eyes lifted to catch Mary-Lou’s as the Wolf snarled, “Come on, don’t be shy; give me your best.”
He expected her to hit him, Mary-Lou realized. Expected her to strike and tear at him, to take pleasure at his defeat. The human woman swallowed back nausea, pressed firmly down against a bout of anger and disgust. What else was he to think? What else had Wiley ever known, but pain?
“I wish to speak with you,” Mary-Lou said in the end. “Alone.” Jonas glanced at her, a furtive, worried thing. Wiley laughed, low and ugly.
“You can’t be that stupid,” the Wolf growled.
“What are you going to do to me, Wiley?” Mary-Lou snapped, “What can you do to anyone, right now?” The Wolf roared at her and she ignored him, seeing his anger for the pathetic show that it was.
“Mary,” Jonas whispered. His hand lingered on her arm, light above the still-healing wound. She shook her head.
“Let me.”
A moment later, Jonas was stepping out of the door and into the gray hallway beyond. He was not out of earshot, had not truly left her alone; still, his willingness to respect her wishes – even here, even with this – was pleasing to the headstrong woman. She could not thrive stifled, would not even bother to try.
Mary-Lou waited until the door closed at Jonas back before turning to Wiley. The Wolf was back to staring at the ground, exhales slow and measured. He was stifling groans of pain, Mary-Lou realized. The human let out a soft sigh, then set to carefully lower herself to the cement floor.
“What’re you doing?” Wiley rasped. Dark, pain-glazed eyes tracked Mary-Lou’s movements with hostile curiosity from beneath messy brows.
“I’m tired,” Mary-Lou shrugged. It was true enough: She was still on medication for her arm (and had that not been a fun wound to explain in the ER), and had not exactly slept much last night. If her resting also happened to spare Wiley the embarrassment of being talked down to, it was but an unexpected bonus. Mary-Lou smiled at the grim Wolf, wiggling until she was as comfortable as she could be. Wiley glared at her suspiciously, but made no further comment.
“I had a dream about you,” Mary-Lou began after a moment of quiet stillness. Wiley choked out a mirthless laugh, grumbling a quiet, “There ain’t much left to dream about, Princess.”
“That’s true,” Mary-Lou agreed, pretending that this meeting was anything other than what it was – a last rite, a confession, a punishment in its own right. Mary-Lou wished it was not so, even as she knew better than to wish for anything when it came to men like Wiley Turbo. She continued. “I did not dream of your future as it is. I dreamed of what could have been, and thought you should – must – know, before you go.”
“Revenge, huh?” Wiley laughed, cracked lips stretched thin over sharp teeth. “Torturing me with petty lies. Low, even for a human.”
“I do not mean to lie to you,” Mary-Lou told him. When Wiley only snorted in response, she shifted until she was well within the Wolf’s space. Wiley pulled back as Mary-Lou reached for his bound hands, hissing when the human woman pushed her soft, cool fingers between the thick silver and his burning skin.
“Here,” Mary-Lou said, face so close Wiley could count the eyelashes curled over green human eyes. “You will be able to tell if I’m lying now, won’t you?” Wiley nodded dumbly, thinking that this close, he could do more than read the stupid woman’s pulse. He might be weakened by hunger and poison, but a wolf was not harmless until dead. Even now, Wiley could just lean over and—
“You were married.”
Wiley’s eyes snapped to Mary-Lou’s. He sought the lie in her pupils, in the jump of her pulse beneath the curve of her jaw – found nothing but steady, cold truth. The Wolf swallowed, nodded at her to continue.
“Your wife was beautiful – a tall, dark-skinned woman with strong features and a happy face. She bore you two children: A boy with light eyes and dark skin, and a girl with soft black curls and a smile just like yours. You loved them dearly.
They were everything you had.
After the War – and there was a war in the wake of my death, a brutal time of hate and death and needless violence – you settled down to have a family, as you had always dreamed. But there was no glory in your life, no medals and commendations for the many battles you waged. For the lives you took so the cause could progress. The War had been too cruel, the survivors – too many and much too bitter to accept defeat and the Old Law without something in return.
You were their scapegoat. You, and the half a dozen like you: Men and women who fought for a cause in which they were taught to believe. Most were killed outright. The few who escaped – you among them – fled to the darkest, quietest corner of the country they could find. You were lucky enough to not do so alone.”
Mary-Lou paused, grasping for both breath and calm as her mind turned with her memories. Wiley stared at her, eyes wide and unblinking. The Wolf waited, patient and quiet, for her to continue.
“They found you,” Mary-Lou sighed after a moment. “One night, they came for you. Men armed with silver, Shifters out for your blood. They dragged your family into the forest that had until then hidden your home, tore you from your wife and children so they could teach you a lesson. Demean you before them.” Mary-Lou closed her eyes. This, this was the last of it – the most distressing, disgusting part of it all. Mary-Lou met Wiley’s expectant gaze head-on, willing her words to be as emotionless and direct as they could be.
“Joel was there. He – it was him, Wiley. He led them to you, let them beat you until you could not move – until your wife and kids could scream no more. But that, too, was not the end.
Your girl. Your little girl, Wiley—she was human, and they knew, and there is but a single fate for a human-born Shifter under the Old Laws.”
Wiley was shaking his head, shaking so hard his teeth rattled. “No,” the Wolf groaned, eyes red-rimmed and too-dry. “No.”
Mary-Lou said nothing. There was nothing left to be said.
Jonas did not question h
is mate’s silence, the slight tremble of her lips and eyes. The Lion Shifter heard it all – he’d been meant to, Mary-Lou had known he would. Wiley’s fate was an unhappy one; Jonas deserved to know, to understand that it would have been so, no matter the outcome of the Challenge. It was not a matter of luck, of chance, but of kindness and resolve: The Wolf had chosen the path he would tread a long, long time ago. What lurked at its end was no one’s fault but his.
Jonas linked their hands, offered his side for Mary-Lou to lean against as they made their way through the darkened hallway. This place was not theirs, had never been for them to walk. Here, they would leave all misery behind.
A long, mournful howl echoed behind them. It climbed high, drew thin and awful before it, too, melted into the dark silence all about.
The trial was a brief, sad thing.
A few speeches were made: Most by survivors of victimized families, some by people close to either Wiley or the Prince. There was not a single kind word to be heard about either man. Mary-Lou was surprised to see the ferocious-looking woman who had held her captive that first, moonlit night in Wiley’s car, take the stand. Apparently, she had lost her bond mate during the fight – a tragedy she blamed solely on her Alpha’s blind, brutal command. Mary-Lou remembered her obedience, remembered the malicious smile that had curled the woman’s lips and thought of how easy it was to blame someone else for one’s own shortcomings. That night, the she-Wolf had hated Mary-Lou for living; today, she hated Wiley with the same single-minded intensity.
