by Lila Jean
An honorable king would have ordered them to remain at the edge of the battle, to merely watch and act as insurance if the opponent cheated, but Anthony’s father was not an honorable man. This was a fight for the throne, and as he had proven so many times before, he would not give it up willingly or honorably. He barked at the wolves, and the three soldiers attacked Anthony at once.
The first wolf to reach him lunged for the jugular, and Anthony sidestepped the beast with seconds to spare. The second attacked right after, his claws digging deep into Anthony’s back as the third bit hard into his leg. Anthony growled in pain and dug his teeth into the scruff on the third’s neck, tearing him off and throwing him halfway across the floor, dangerously close to where Tina, Draven, and Killian faced off with Cora.
Anthony rolled onto the second as the first launched again for Anthony’s face, teeth bared. Anthony dug his claws into the first wolf’s neck, flipping it over him and into the wall. It hit hard, whimpering as it slumped to the floor, but he knew it would be back for him soon.
Growling in rage, he reached around and bit into the wolf on his back, grabbing the first clump of fur he could and snarling as he wrangled the beast off of him. It yelped in pain as it fell to the ground, quickly recovering and lunging for him again. This time, however, Anthony was prepared, and he dodged out of the way, too fast to capture, and dug his jaws into the wolf’s neck. He bit hard, the creature’s bones breaking in his grip, and it yelped as it collapsed to the floor, dead. The shifter began to retreat to his human form, as all shifters did when they died, but Anthony didn’t pause to mourn.
The other two wolves attacked again, in tandem, each coming from opposite sides. Their claws dug deep into his back, sharp as knives, and Anthony howled in pain. He tried to shake them off, but their claws were in too deep, and he ended up merely dragging them across the floor as they bit at his face, at his side, at his legs, anything they could reach. His blood began to drip on the floor, the stone smeared with red streaks as he fought the wolves, trying to regain the upper hand.
In the melee of blood and pain, he briefly looked at his father, who paced between him and Tina, his focus entirely on Anthony as he monitored the progress. The coward wasn’t even going to fight his own battle.
Furious, Anthony grabbed one of the wolves on his back and dug his teeth deep into its neck before ripping it off of him. Pain shot down his back in waves as the claws ripped open his skin, but he didn’t care. Adrenaline and hatred fueled him, and he sliced the wolf’s neck with his claw, the blood gushing as he threw the creature against the wall.
His body humming with power and hatred, Anthony rolled onto the other wolf, crushing it beneath his massive body, and it yelped in pain as he finally got it off of him. Anthony jumped back onto his feet and lunged at the wolf as it began to stand, his jaw tightening around its muzzle. It whimpered in pain as he shook his head furiously and threw it aside, blood dripping from his mouth as he tensed, ready to spring at his cheat of a father.
Of course, now he was deeply injured, and his father barely had a scratch on him. The tides of their battle had shifted, but they weren’t quite in his father’s favor yet.
Anthony lunged at the king who reared up, digging his claws into Anthony’s neck as they fought. The furious battle raged, the king’s decades of battle experience an even match to Anthony’s enhanced speed and wounded body. Blood spattered the walls, the floor, everything they neared, and Anthony quickly lost himself in the fight. At that moment, it was only him and his father, locked in a fight to the death as they snarled at each other, their inner wolves taking over almost entirely as they each fought for everything they held dear.
But the war around them still raged, and Anthony couldn’t let this fight last much longer. Flynn and Zane were slowing, the constant stream of wolves beating at them, drawing blood as they began to lose control of the bottleneck, the only thing keeping the battle from turning sharply against the brotherhood. Cora dug her trident deep into Tina’s chest, and Tina yelled in pain as the horrible woman pulled more of her magic, more of her life from her.
They were starting to lose this battle, and if Anthony didn’t win this fight with his father, they would lose the war as well.
Chest heaving, exhausted, pushed to his absolute limit, Anthony swiped at his father’s face. The king dodged, just barely, limping on a broken foot as he leaped back and prepared to lunge for Anthony’s throat.
I have to end this, Anthony thought. I have to do it now.
With his last remaining strength, Anthony countered his father’s blow and dove for the man’s legs. He chomped hard on the foreleg, bone crunching in his powerful jaws, and the king yelped in pain as he fell to the ground. With a brief moment of advantage, Anthony dug his claws into his father’s neck, pinning the man to the ground, jaw open, ready to go for the kill.
With his claws dug deep into his father’s throat and the cheating werewolves lying dead around him, Anthony finally brought himself to look into the king’s eyes. The old man’s expression was difficult to read, but for the most part, he stared at Anthony with unwavering, stubborn pride. Despite the heaving chest, the broken bones and the blood rushing from the many wounds along the king’s body, he looked ready to get up again, to continue, to press onward regardless of the outcome. With a sudden wriggle, he tried to topple Anthony, aiming a strong kick at Anthony’s leg to throw him off balance and get free, but he was too tired, too beaten, too weak. Anthony took the brunt of the attack, growling with pain as it hit but standing his ground, refusing to budge, and using the moment to dig his claws a little deeper into his father’s neck.
Deep down, Anthony wanted to forgive his father. He wanted the reunion Draven and King Edward had experienced, the exoneration, the honor, the return to what was, but he knew in his soul that would never be possible. His father felt only obligation in raising an heir, nothing more, and nothing in Anthony’s upbringing had been close to love. He was another puzzle piece, another requirement fulfilled, and if anything, more of a burden than a son.
You’re too far gone, Anthony thought as he stood over the old wolf, blood dripping from his mouth. I lost you a long time ago if I ever really had you as a father at all.
King William was too dangerous, too insane to save. There was no sparing him, no forgiveness, no mercy. There would be no reunion. The moment Anthony released his father, the moment he tried to shift and talk sense into the old king, his father would go for the kill. Even as Anthony paused, looking down at his father, he could see the cogs in the old man’s brain turning.
Anthony had seen that look many times before, usually in battle, in a moment of life-or-death struggle where the king turned the tides in his favor and found a clever way to cheat and rip out his opponent’s throat. And now, he was looking at Anthony as he had so often looked at his enemies, searching for a way out, for any possible way to turn the tide in his favor and kill everyone present.
At that moment, Anthony realized he was no longer King William’s son, but just another enemy, just another nameless opponent, no doubt one who the king believed would steal the throne from him if given a chance.
They were no longer a family, and the realization broke Anthony’s heart. Still, as a warrior and as the heir to the throne, he knew what had to be done, regardless of how much it pained him to perform his duties to his people and his mate.
For everything you have done against Tina, Anthony thought, for everything you have done against me, against the five kingdoms, and against your own people, I sentence you to death.
With that, Anthony dove for the king’s throat. His jaws came down hard, made stronger with his enhanced speed, and he bit into the jugular. Blood filled his mouth, gushing over his tongue. The king fought, dragging his sharp claws over Anthony’s hide, gouging him deeply. Pain ripped through Anthony’s body, but he pressed on, determined to execute the death sentence he had given his father.
As they wrestled on the floor, claws covered in blood, Ant
hony barely keeping his position over his father in the man’s desperate attempts to escape death, the old king’s movements began to slow. Now and then, Anthony would get a glimpse of the man’s eyes, and the life was slowly fading. Pushing through the sadness, through the grief of losing his father to greed, he bit down harder on the old man’s neck.
With a final ear-splitting crack, the king whimpered and went still, his body limp and lifeless in Anthony’s jaws.
As happened in all shifters’ deaths, the king shifted, returning to his human form, lying face down on the stone floor, his tattered body surrounded by blood. Anthony heaved over him, out of breath and shaken with his sorrow, but he had done what had to be done. The king’s corpse before him, he howled into the air, the sound painfully loud in the enclosed space as he declared himself the victor.
Covered in gouges, his blood matting the fur all over his body, he turned toward the open double doors, growling, knowing full well his teeth were stained with the blood of a king. It was a final dare, allowing any who dared to face him and challenge his right as master of Wolfcrest. The wolves in the hallway stilled, backing away from Flynn and Zane, their eyes fixed on Anthony.
He waited, the next few seconds critical to his entire rule.
One by one, the wolves bowed their heads, laying on the floor in submission as they cast their gazes downward, declaring their obedience and fealty to Anthony and Anthony alone.
Anthony relaxed. He had done it. He had, at long last, freed Wolfcrest from his father’s insanity.
42
Tina
When Anthony howled, the room went still. Tina paused, her attention briefly stolen by the magnificent black wolf in the center of the room, standing over the dead king’s body as the wolves in the hall slowly cowered at his strength. Even Cora paused, and a brief look of sheer panic crossed her face. At that moment, it was clear that the tide had turned against her, and she was about to be vastly outnumbered.
In the heat of the moment, while Draven and Killian had their heads turned toward their brother in arms, Cora struck. For Tina, it was as if time slowed, her body stuck in mud while she watched the scene unfold. She lifted her sword, almost blazingly fast, the blade aimed for Draven’s head. She swung, the metal coming down hard toward Draven’s face, and he looked at her in surprise at the last moment, when the glinting edge was about to slice him in two.
Tina would sooner die than lose her dragon prince. She reached for the blade, summoning every last scrap of her magic, whatever was left in her soul to save him. With Ares, her magic had formed a barrier that protected her from the magical blade, and she could only hope that it would work here, too, with whatever magic remained in her blood.
Exhausted and pushed to the edge, her body aching with fatigue and weighed by the horrible, cursed amulet around her neck, Tina grabbed the sword, locking her arm to block the blow, fully expecting it to sail through her hand and slice it clean off, but she didn’t care. For Draven, she would do anything.
However, the blade stopped against her palm as though it had struck a wall, and Cora blinked in surprise as Tina’s hand glowed brilliantly white.
The willingness to forfeit herself for her prince had pushed her over the edge, because in that moment, everything she had been fighting for from the beginning came into sharp focus. Love. In that simple act of love and sacrifice, Tina had found the final surge of magic she needed to break the curse. The pendant around her neck shattered like glass, pieces of the relic shooting across the room like bullets, lodging into the rock wall from the sheer power of her magic, which was finally freed.
Cora’s mouth dropped open, and for a moment, she couldn’t even move, merely staring at Tina in horror. Tina’s body hummed, and her core trembled with the renewed connection to her goddess. It was as if every ounce of energy in the world rushed into her at once, giving her life, giving her motivation and purpose, refilling the empty well that had been her soul.
Like water over a rock, her skin began to glow, starting first at her hand and then spreading across her entire body. After agonizing days without this beautiful energy of hers, she once more felt the overwhelming, almost orgasmic connection to her surroundings that she had experienced back in the altar room under the strip club. She could hear every heartbeat. Sense every breath. Feel every sultry swish of her battle-worn dress against her thighs.
Her world came alive, and with that power, her connection to Damara renewed, stronger than ever before. Running on instinct and muscle memory, she lifted her hand toward Cora, and with the gesture came the overwhelming thunder of her heartbeat. The sound hit her ears like an erratic drum beat, wild and unnatural.
“You’re afraid,” Tina said to the awful woman, her voice as dark and dangerous as Anthony’s so often was when he was royally pissed. “You should be.”
Behind her, Anthony growled, still in his wolf form as he turned to face Cora. The wolves in the hallway growled with him, the small army of werewolves inching forward, ready to do as their king commanded, but Tina didn’t want to risk her princes’ lives. Cora’s weapons were powerful, and only god magic stood a chance against them.
“Stay back,” she ordered.
Draven nearly choked. “But Tina—”
“One blow from that blade can kill you, Draven,” Tina said, nodding to the sword in Cora’s hand, and the vile woman smirked with sick pleasure at that fact. “Just look at Killian.”
“I’m fine,” the eagle said, looking paler than ever as he teetered, the bloody bandage around his shoulder darker than ever with his blood. “It’ll stop bleeding soon.”
“Nope,” Cora said, grinning wickedly. “It’ll just bleed and bleed and bleed …” She spun the staff carelessly in one hand, putting the trident away on her belt and grabbing the sword instead.
“Help Killian,” Tina ordered, nodding toward the eagle shifter. “He needs attention. Try to stem the bleeding and get ahold of a demigod medic.”
“Already on it,” Amy said in her ear. “There’s one headed your way.”
“Good.” Tina nodded and began to circle Cora as the woman spun her staff, no doubt looking for the perfect moment to slam it on the ground and make everyone as ill as possible. If Tina could focus on the fight, knowing full well that her men would be cared for, this would go faster.
“It can hurt you, too,” Draven snapped, clearly agitated with her order.
“Not in the same way,” she reminded him. When she had stabbed Ares with the glowing dagger, it had turned only a portion of his skin to ash, and the bleeding had stopped almost instantly.
Determined to end this quickly, Tina lifted her hands, connecting instantly with Cora’s pulse. She tightened her palms into fists, controlling the horrible woman’s pulse, forcing it to race faster. Cora shifted uncomfortably and attacked, bringing the staff down hard toward Tina’s head. Tina rolled out of the way, temporarily losing her grasp on Cora’s pulse, and the thundering heartbeat slowed again to normal.
Shit, Tina thought. She’s more resilient to my magic than regular humans, probably from all the gods her family killed and absorbed. Tina wrinkled her nose in loathing at the thought, but she had to focus, had to press on and figure something else out. Using her powers to burst Cora’s heart would take more effort, time, and energy than most, and considering how her attention was broken each time Cora attacked, that approach wasn’t going to work quite like Tina had hoped.
“Fine,” she muttered to herself, eyeing the dagger still laying on the floor nearby. “Plan B.”
Cora swiped at Tina with the staff, missing by inches, and Tina rolled toward the dagger that Cora had thrown at Killian, the one Tina had been forced to yank from his chest. Her hand hovered over it, remembering the agonizing pain she had felt when she’d first tried to grab the god weapons, but things were different now. With her access to Damara restored, she was a goddess again, and the blade would have to recognize that she had the power of one.
“Don’t you dare,” Cora seet
hed, raising her sword threateningly.
Tina smirked and grabbed the dagger by the hilt, pleased she had managed to irk Cora, to take something of power from a woman who thrived off of doing just that to everyone around her. Sure enough, the blade hummed to life, a little ball of energy in her palm, its magic and sheer grace almost awe-inspiring. Tina wanted nothing more than to fawn over it, to explore it, to study it, but she didn’t have the time.
“Guess it’s mine, now,” she said with a wink at her enemy.
Cora growled in anger as she swung her sword toward Tina’s neck, and Tina dodged it effortlessly. With a grunt of effort, Cora slammed the staff into the ground, and the golden ring of energy burst out from it in every direction. Tina ducked, barely missing the blow, but it hit a few of the wolves in the hall. They fell to the ground, heaving, lost in the curse of pestilence that damned staff emitted. Fast as lightning, Cora slammed the staff into Tina’s side, jarring her with a burst of electricity.
Tina gritted her teeth, holding her side with her free hand as her other tightened around the hilt of the dagger, ready to rain fire and brimstone down on this bitch. First, she had to get that staff away from Cora, and then the sword. Even though it didn’t have a sharp edge, the staff was clearly the bigger threat.
Cora attacked, furious and deadly, every blow from the staff quickly followed up with the sword. Tina dodged them, occasionally stabbing at Cora with the blade, knowing full well she had to treat this battle just like the one with Ares. Every blow had to be for the kill since Cora was brimming with stolen power that could take Tina out for good.
As the staff came down toward Tina’s head, she stabbed her dagger into Cora’s left shoulder and grabbed the staff with her other hand, focusing a surge of energy into the weapon as Cora yelled in pain, distracted by the dagger. With the staff in one hand, Tina grabbed the hilt of the dagger and kicked Cora in the chest, sending the woman staggering backward. With the same fluid motion, Tina wrenched the staff from Cora’s hand and dislodged the bloody blade from her body. Cora gasped with relief, not realizing the staff was missing until Tina waved it in her hand.
