by Sara Fields
“What is your point, Thranar?” I asked. I made no effort to conceal the disdain in my voice now and he noticed.
His face tightened with fury and extremely tenuous restraint. He wanted to put me in my place. Instead, I was going to put him in his. I cleared my throat and smirked back at him.
“Does your army sing about my conquests on the battlefield, King Thranar of Ravenrath? Do your people sing of the alpha queen of Valgertha instead of you?” I pressed, not caring if I insulted him now. He’d started this and I fully intended to end it.
His upper lip curled with anger, and he slapped his palm on the table.
“Don’t test me, Freya. You’ve never faced an alpha like me,” he threatened.
“I killed the last alpha that tried to claim me for himself, Thranar. I put a knife through the side of his skull when he put his hands on me. You’ve never met an alpha like me, and you would do well to remember that,” I snarled. I downed the last of my wine and slammed the goblet on the table. I pushed my own hands against the wooden surface and stood up. My chair slid back as I strode away, but just when I moved to grip the handle of the door, Thranar’s hand grasped the back of my neck firmly. His chair clattered to the floor in the ensuing silence, an indication of just how quickly he’d come after me.
I growled viciously in return. I would give him one last chance.
“You will take your hands off me at once,” I demanded.
He didn’t listen. His fingers tightened against my flesh, his thumb just pressing against the place where Aric had marked me as his. My fury exploded inside me and I roared with it. I spun around, lifting my elbow and slamming my arm into his. I broke his hold on my neck and he growled, grasping at me again.
In a swift pivoting motion, I turned and grabbed his shoulders. I brought my knee up between his legs incredibly hard. I wasn’t afraid to fight dirty in battle. It’s what made me unstoppable all my life. He groaned in pain and I did it again, only this time, he swung his hips to the side and avoided the blow. Quickly, I backed off and bent down while he stared at me, his face red and scrunched with anger.
I returned his ire tenfold.
I slid my pant leg up and grasped the handle of my dagger. Carefully, I slid it out of the holster and straightened up, staring at him as I did so. He glanced down at the blade in my fingers and I growled at him. The reaction of his own alpha was just as vicious as I expected.
He tore back at me, unable to contain himself now. His punches were tight and expertly executed, and it took all of my concentration to avoid them, all while trying to gain ground myself. I slashed at him, keeping my movements contained and calculated. Occasionally, the edge of my knife would just catch him, and he’d roar as he went at me, again and again until I knew that this would only be over once one of us fell or ended up dead.
I lost myself in the dance of war. I twisted and turned, swaying back and forth to escape his blows while moving in. I jumped and pivoted forward, slowly working myself closer and closer as I planned my next attack. I was well known for my skill in battle, and as I fought him, that was quickly becoming more apparent by the expression on his face.
But he was also really strong. He hadn’t become King of Ravenrath for no reason.
When I pressed forward, he pushed me back. Chairs were knocked out of the way as we tore into each other. My muscles burned and I panted as I drew in each breath, but it didn’t matter because I needed to push him back and show him that I was a force to be reckoned with too.
I fought hard, knocking off his hands again and again. For a while, I felt in control and then his leg kicked out unexpectedly and knocked me off my feet. The hand not holding my dagger slammed against the table in an effort to protect my face knocking against the hard wooden surface. In that same moment, he pinned me down before I had a chance to get myself back up by gripping the back of my neck once again. My breasts pressed against the wood, still contained by my vest. I seethed, trying to use my hands to push up against the table, but he grabbed my wrists and pinned them behind my back.
I tried to kick backwards, hoping to catch him in the balls with my heel. I didn’t.
He snarled in victory, but I never stopped fighting.
I wouldn’t ever.
He gripped the collar of my vest and tore it clean through, baring my back in one quick maneuver. The support of the cloth against my chest gave way and I swallowed anxiously, but I didn’t let it get to me. After that, he grasped at the hem of my pants and tried to pull them down, but I put everything into fighting back now. I wasn’t about to let him strip me and have his way with me. Fuck that.
I pushed backwards hard and used my own body weight to knock him off balance. He staggered backwards and I swung around, ignoring as the remnants of my vest fell away and exposed the pink flesh of my breasts. His eyes dropped to them with a ravenous leer and I raced toward him, raising my arm with my dagger still in hand.
He was ready for me, though. He ducked and grabbed at my wrist, forcing my arm backwards hard enough to make my shoulder pop out of place. The blade fell from my hand and he caught it, only to slash it across my chest deep enough to make me see stars.
I screeched and fought like a wild animal, but my arm would no longer work. It hung there at my side, unfeeling and unmoving no matter how hard I tried to control it. Blood from my wound poured down the front of me. My vision darkened just slightly around the edges, but I didn’t give up.
He punched my shoulder once and then twice before I staggered to the side and he used that to kick the back of my knee roughly. I folded to the floor and tried to get back up. My fingers slipped in the blood underneath me and I fell back down, knocking my chin on the floor.
Dazed, I tried to roll to the side as he climbed on top of me.
My vision wavered.
I was losing too much blood.
His arm swung up and I tried to block it.
My arm wouldn’t work.
I couldn’t stop it even though I knew what was coming.
He punched the side of my head so hard that I didn’t even feel pain.
I only saw blackness, strong and swift like a tidal wave.
He’d won.
I’d lost.
Chapter Six
Aric
I watched her leave, making no movement to stop her. I had no intentions on stealing her throne or forcing myself into her life. Instead, I wanted to become her ally. I wanted her to trust me and come to me to ask my opinions when she had a decision to make. We were mates now, and I wanted to ensure that she would be happy with me in the end.
I sighed, looking around her bedroom and at the utter travesty the two of us had created in the rough quelling of her heat. I grinned, thinking about the way she’d screamed my name over and over despite her initial reluctance. In the end, she’d given herself over to me completely and I would remember every moment in the rest of my days.
She was so beautiful. I don’t know how I’d ever been so lucky to be matched to a woman like her.
I was restless though, wanting to do something that might make her smile. I busied myself by tidying her room and gathering the sodden blankets for the servants to wash. A number of them brought me food and drink, including ale, mead, and even a bit a wine. I took a mug to be polite from one of them, but I only sipped on it from time to time for the rest of that evening. It was quite good, but my mind was elsewhere, so I continued to organize her chambers and hide the mess we had made.
After I finished cleaning, I sat down in the chair and took a long drink. I closed my eyes for a moment and just felt the warm embrace of the pair bond that was simmering deep in my heart. It felt foreign, but it also felt like the most natural and most wonderful thing I’d ever experienced in my life.
For so long, I’d been a part of the Brotherhood, ensuring that I carried out my missions to the best of my ability. I’d always had just myself to worry about. I’d risen quickly among the ranks and had been granted sage status some time ago, but now I
had Freya.
Beautiful, perfect Freya. The perfect little mixture of feisty alpha and sweet omega. A powerful force to be reckoned with and entirely unique in her own right. To be equal parts alpha and omega likely meant that the gods had big plans for her.
Our connection felt like a steady flowing river. It gave me partial access to her emotions, allowing me to feel her pleasure, her happiness, and her occasional anxious moments. I took a sip of the honey-flavored mead and then that feeling changed suddenly, catching me off guard.
The bond pulsed hard and for the very first time, I felt her fear and I stiffened immediately. It was so intensely raw, causing a burst of terror to roll over me just as fiercely as hers was. I pressed my hand to my chest, her agony ripping into a deep part of my soul that awakened the primal alpha inside me so rapidly, it left me gasping for air. When I pulled my palm away from my chest, I expected to see blood, but there was nothing there. I sat there in her bedroom, trying to understand what I was feeling when our connection grew more intense, surging with her emotions and her terror and I knew I had to move.
My mate needed me. She might be wounded or worse. I had to get to her, right away. There was no time to waste.
I tore out of her room and raced down the stairs. I burst out into the hallway and ran in the direction the bond told me she was, but it was only a tentative guess. I sprinted until I came across a servant girl and I roughly grasped her arm, stopping her in her tracks at once. I vaguely recognized her as one of the maids who had come into Freya’s chambers during the quelling of her heat, but I didn’t know her name and at the moment, it didn’t matter. Right now, I was just seeing red.
I needed to get to Freya. She needed her alpha.
“Where is the queen?” I roared. “Take me to her.”
The servant girl cried out with something I vaguely identified as pain, her eyes bulging with fear at my thoughtless handling of her.
“You’re hurting me,” she whimpered, her terrified doe eyes watching me with nervous anxiety. I realized what I was doing as the red haze dulled for a second and I forced myself to relax my fingers.
“I’m sorry,” I said gruffly, releasing her at once. “I need to get to the queen. She’s in danger. Now.”
She rubbed the place where I had grabbed and nodded.
“Follow me,” she replied meekly.
“Quickly. I don’t want to be too late,” I demanded, and she took off running down the hallway. I followed her, not paying attention to the rooms and doors we passed as we went. Anyone that was in our path moved out of the way just as quickly and I didn’t take even a second glance. With every step I took, I could feel that something was wrong, that Freya was likely scared or hurt or even worse.
I hoped I was moving fast enough.
The hallways got wider and as I descended into the castle, I was aware of the fact that we were moving closer and closer to the throne room. The servant girl raced ahead of me and pointed toward a room down the hall, yelling something about her being inside.
I tore past her and into the throne room.
I heard Freya cry out and then the bond went dark.
I couldn’t feel her anymore and I panicked.
I burst into the side room, only to find a strange alpha male sitting on top of her pale form. I was horrified to see that she was covered in blood. Her own blood and not his. His dark gaze met mine in a prideful grimace, before he glanced back down at her. I didn’t recognize his face, but right now it didn’t matter. The bastard looked from me to the door, once then twice, before he ran. The red haze returned, and I snarled, the echo vicious and loud as it bounced off the stone walls all around me.
I wanted to tear him apart. I wanted to rip his head from his shoulders and put it on a pike, but as I stared ahead, the sound of a soft rattling breath met my ears. I tried to quell the raging fury inside me and when I turned my eyes to look at her, it all dissipated in a fraction of a second.
Freya.
My mate.
The one that I had bonded to me.
The growing piece of my soul.
The thought of losing her made my heart ache in a way that I’d never felt before.
When I’d first entered the towering walls of Valgertha, she’d simply been a mission to conquer and subdue. I even had orders to kill her if I had to. But the moment that I’d laid eyes on her, that all changed.
I had simply wanted to make her mine.
And now I might lose her.
Freya was the only thing that mattered now. Not the orders of the Brotherhood. Not the revenge I wanted to rain down on the man who had run from this room. Nothing else.
Just her.
Bloody and broken, she lay perfectly still on the floor. The top she’d been wearing when she’d left me had been torn off, leaving her breasts bare for anyone to see and that infuriated me. Her red hair was matted with blood, a large pool growing beneath her as she struggled to draw in one breath after another. Listless and pale, she looked like a ghost and that terrified me.
I rushed to her side, kneeling down and pressing my fingers against her skin, needing to touch her and convince myself that she was still alive. There was a wretchedly deep gash across her chest that still seeped with a steady flow of blood. Quickly, I pressed two fingers against the side of her neck, checking for a pulse.
For a moment, I felt nothing, and I began to panic. A strangled cry escaped my throat and I didn’t care if anyone nearby heard an alpha make a sound like that.
But wait. What was that?
There. A very weak heartbeat.
She was still alive. Praise the gods.
Fuck. What now?
I needed to help her. She needed me right now and I was going to save her, no matter what it cost.
Looking around, I searched for anything to stop the flow of blood. On the nearby table was a woven cream tablecloth. I grabbed at the edges of it and ripped it toward myself, not caring that I spilled food and drink on the floor as a result. I pressed the fabric against her wound, hoping that it would be enough to stem to flow of her lifeblood until I could get her stabilized away from the cusp of death.
The side of her head was already darkening with deep purple bruising, as was her ribcage. That man had hit her hard and when I lifted her eyelid to check to see if she was conscious, it was more than obvious that she wasn’t.
After that, I looked at the arm that was hanging by her side. It was turned at an awkward, unnatural angle and I knew immediately that it was dislocated. I quickly decided that I would deal with that now so moving her later wouldn’t worsen the injury. Lifting it with one hand, I twisted it hard and up, popping it back into place in one smooth motion. It would hurt her far more if she was awake and this way, it would simply be incredibly sore for a few days after she woke. I put pressure back on her wound and tried to decide what to do next.
Most important, I had to stop the bleeding.
A male servant rushed in and I started barking orders.
“Clear the table and get me clean bandages,” I roared.
Within seconds, I heard things clatter to the floor. I didn’t even look and swept my arms beneath her, lifting her off the floor and laying her on the wooden table. Servants swarmed into the room and soon, there was a pile of white bandages and medical supplies at my side. I didn’t pay attention to the people bringing the bandages or the whispers asking who I was or what had happened, I just cared for Freya.
Although I wasn’t a doctor, I had enough knowledge and training to tend to her wounds from my time in the Brotherhood. When the blood flow began to slow down, I poured a bit of alcohol on it in order to keep any infection at bay. With a needle and special medical-grade thread, I stitched the injury closed and wrapped her in clean, sterile bandages. After I was finished, I ensured everything was tight and secure so that she could heal properly. Pleased with the job I had done, I wanted to ensure that she was comfortable now.
I surrounded her body in soft fluffy blankets and when I was sur
e that moving her wouldn’t injure her further, I lifted her off the table and carried her all the way to her chambers. I had the servants follow me with copious amounts of blankets and pitchers of water, along with any additional medical supplies I might need. When I was finally pleased with what they had brought, I settled her in her bed and sat in the chair where I’d first laid eyes on her, knowing that now she needed her rest in order to heal.
She didn’t wake up that night. Or the day after. I soon began to fear that she wouldn’t at all.
In those following days, I didn’t sleep. I waited by her side, not caring if the sun had risen or only the moon and the stars lit up the night. I changed her bandages dutifully and ensured that her injuries were healing as well as could be expected. Her pale skin slowly grew pinker and more alive, but still, she never opened her eyes. Not even for me.
The bond between us felt weak, but it was still there so I knew that I hadn’t lost her and that she was still there somewhere inside. It would pulse from time to time and I would watch her more closely when it did, but when it became apparent that she wasn’t ready to wake, I let her be. I just had to ensure that she survived this and I would do whatever it took to make that happen.
In that time, an occasional servant would visit. There were a number of faces, but when the female servant who had led me to her that fateful night brought a basket of fresh linens, I stopped her before she left.
“I’ve seen you before,” I said softly, and she dipped her head in acknowledgement. “Please tell me your name.”
“Ariana,” she answered. She trembled a bit before me and I came to understand that I made her nervous. I didn’t blame her for it either. I was a strange alpha in her midst and if I wasn’t mistaken, she was a beta. I sniffed the air without letting on what I was doing, and I realized that she was, in fact, an omega. And an unclaimed one at that.
“Would you sit with me?” I asked her, ensuring to keep my voice gentle. She looked at me and then to the chair across the table from me, chewing her lip in the most adorable fashion.
