Trystan floated in and out of consciousness as they ran. The jostling journey didn’t aggravate his wounds. He was past the point of feeling pain. There was just too much of it.
They must’ve made it home because he was being laid on a soft bed. Trystan opened his eyes to see one of the pack healers, Mariah, leaning over him, speaking more words he didn’t understand. With what little strength he had, he turned his head to scan the room.
Rhys. Makenna. Talon. Bowen. As grateful as he was for their love and concern, they weren’t who he wanted. There was only one face he needed to drink in before he─
There she was. Amanda. His heart. The other half of his soul.
The sorrow and grief etched into her features broke his heart. Tears covered her beautiful face. Her arms wrapped around her stomach, like she was trying to keep herself from doubling over.
Trystan lifted a charred hand a few inches off the bed to reach for her. It fell back to the soft covers. He was unable to gather the strength to hold it up. But she got the message.
Amanda knelt on the floor beside his head, taking in his burnt skin. His leathers hung from him in pieces. He knew the visible patches of flesh were charred beyond recognition. He could only imagine what his face looked like.
Amanda’s terror and frantic worry blanketed the air as she raised her hand, looking for an unharmed place to touch him. Finally her tender, delicate fingers caressed his arm.
“Trys, hang on. Fight.” Her whispered words were balm. Her voice was all. He clung to it like the lifeline it was. A mournful sob wrenched from her. “You didn’t have to do this. Thank you for saving my sister, but you didn’t have to...” Another choked sob broke off her words.
He tried to tell her it would be okay. That it was worth it to save their queen. Her sister. That he’d always love her. Wanted her to find happiness. To never forget him but to move on. To live and love, despite the thought of her with another male ripping a gaping hole in his soul.
But he couldn’t make his throat work. A rough growl was the only thing that escaped. A cry from his wolf who was curling up in a ball within him.
The wolf also knew this was the end. Knew the magic in their blood was eating them alive from the inside out. His wolf whined, and Trystan closed his eyes as the sound reverberated in his head. He opened them quickly, not wanting to miss a second of seeing Amanda. Wanting her to be the last thing his vision soaked up before the darkness took him for good.
She kissed his forehead. “Shh. Don’t try to speak. I know.” Another jagged sob.
As the healer’s magic did battle with the black power swirling in his blood, he hoped Amanda really did know how much she meant to him. That she was everything.
Suddenly his entire body kicked into overdrive. His muscles seized, and his blood curdled. Trystan jerked as Amanda jumped back. He couldn’t stop it. He had no control over his own body as the magics within him battled for supremacy. They tore through his system, causing an agonizing chaos he’d never imagined. A strange, red-brown light encapsulated his body.
He vaguely registered Makenna and Bowen joining the healer. While his body went nuts, he sought Amanda with his eyes.
She stood with her hands over her mouth and eyes wide. Full of regret and guilt. Berating herself for not being able to help. For not being able to join her magic with those trying to heal him.
He wanted to tell her it was okay. Wanted to tell them to stop because it was pointless. Trystan felt his magic and that of Bowen, the healer, and Makenna doing battle, and losing. Whatever spell Brianna had concocted couldn’t be broken. Just like the spell she’d cast on Amanda.
Except it wasn’t just attacking his wolf, who was currently fading into the dark. It wasn’t just stripping his power. The spell was sucking his life force away.
Bowen hovered above Trystan’s face. His words became clear in the chaos. “This spell is strong. Stronger than what Brianna did to─” he cast a pained glance at Amanda. Sadness colored his expression. But there was something else there as well. Failure. “I cannot counter this.” He looked at Amanda again, tears forming in his eyes. “I’m sorry, lass.” Bowen’s magic dulled, the light receding. He motioned for Mariah and Makenna to back away. “There is nothing else to be done.” He laid a gentle hand on Trystan’s forehead. “I am sorry, warrior. I cannot keep you from the gates of Néamh.” A tear slipped out as the mage turned to embrace Amanda.
She brushed him off and fell to her knees again by the bed. Trystan tried to tell Bowen he understood. But his throat was closing. The darkness crept over everything. The breath seeped from his body as the dark magic in his veins washed away any traces of the power that had tried to overtake it.
There was no more pain. Only regret. A wish he could’ve been better. Could’ve been someone who could have given Amanda everything.
He reached for her and she took his hand. Hers were shaking.
“Trys, I love you. Forever. Bidh gràdh agam ribh gus an toir mi an anail mu dheireadh agam.” She pressed a feather soft kiss to his lips, rose to her feet, and ran out the door.
Trystan lurched and reached for her. His strength again failed and he fell back to the bed. Drained. Nearly lifeless. His soul ripped from him and running away.
A tear fell to the pillow beneath his head while the faces of his friends, his true family, floated above him. He loved Rhys, his brother. Makenna, who should have been his sister in more ways than one. But in that moment, all he wanted was Amanda.
She’d run from him. Left him when all he wanted was that last look of her. Wanted her pixie nose and red lips and chocolate and caramel eyes and curtain of raven hair swimming in his sight until it faded.
This was the way it should be, though. It was all he deserved. Despite her vow to love him until her last breath, they both knew she shouldn’t. She had to let go.
He never would.
He’d carry the memory of her soft skin, her loving words, the memory of the love they’d made so many times to Néamh with him and hold it tight. Maybe when she joined him there, decades or centuries from now, they could have what fate had intended and the real world had stolen from them.
Until then, he’d wait and watch over her.
Trystan glanced at the door one last time, hoping even though he shouldn’t it would open once more, and she would barrel through it and back to him. Finally, he closed his eyes and saw her smiling face.
Then he let the darkness take him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Still Here
Trystan couldn’t be gone. Yet there he lay. Unresponsive. Blackened, burned skin hanging from visible bones. Makenna shook her head against the truth.
He hadn’t even had the strength to reach for Amanda when she’d run out, her grief and agony biting into Makenna and swirling around them in a black cloud.
Talon hugged Makenna, then went after Amanda. She shouldn’t be alone. As much as Makenna wanted to go with her siblings, she couldn’t leave Trystan. He’d sacrificed himself.
For her.
All because she hadn’t been paying attention. She’d let her guilt over killing her own people be blanketed by the need for revenge, the need to hurt her father and Brianna like they’d hurt Amanda, Talon, and herself. To strike back in righteous anger on behalf of her mate and what Kylian had taken from him. She’d let the fury inside free, and now, Trystan had paid the price.
She let the tears fall as Rhys held her. Her wolf whimpered and her raven released a mournful cry as the goddess raged, feeling powerless.
Instead of joining her in her mourning, Rhys’ muscles stiffened. Heat surged through their bond. “He can’t be gone!” Rhys set her aside and ate up the space between himself and Bowen. Shit. This wasn’t gonna be good.
She understood her mate had just lost his best friend, like a brother, and his Beta. But attacking Bowen wouldn’t help. He’d done all he could. The grief in his eyes would have told her everything even if she hadn’t felt it through the pack link. A link now suffused with sorrow, dis
belief, and growing anger.
Rhys went nose to nose with the mage. “Do something!”
Bowen’s shoulders sagged. He dropped to Trystan’s side. The emotions coming from him were so chaotic they buzzed in Makenna’s head. The mage closed his eyes and once again reached to feel for a pulse from the warrior. A gut-wrenching sigh escaped him as he moved his hands back and forth over Trystan’s form. Then he rose to his feet.
She’d never seen anyone so defeated. Tears flowed down her cheeks again, and her throat dried up as Bowen shook his head.
The mage didn’t make eye contact with Rhys. “There is nothing to be done. This magic is unlike anything I’ve seen.” Finally, he met Makenna’s eyes. A strange glint flickered through the sorrow in his gaze as he took her hand. “I’m sorry. I cannot raise the dead.”
Makenna dropped to Trystan’s bedside. She had to do something. Had to repay him for what he’d given.
She closed her eyes, focusing her magic. She had no idea what she was doing. But she had to try. With her mind, she separated a strand of her magic and threaded it through Trystan’s veins. Her mind picked out the enemy in his blood. A thick, black sludge latching onto the light within him. She twirled red around the black strands and yanked. The power bowed. A shrill scream sounded in her mind. She winced as the magic retaliated, jerking her forward.
Rhys’ hand landed on her shoulder. “Kenna, stop.”
“I can’t.”
Invisible blades infused her blood and tore at everything in their path, the magics battling within Trystan. Screeching filled the room. Makenna pulled harder. Wind whipped her hair. Rhys gripped her shoulder, trying to tug her away. She wouldn’t let go. She had to save him. Surely she was more powerful than her sister. Surely her magic could extract the vile infection from Trystan’s system.
Bowen’s voice whispered in her ear as his arm went around her. “Makenna, aon luachmhor, please. Release it. You’re draining yourself.”
An order rang within the plea. Everything in her wanted to obey it, even though she outranked him. Something about his voice called to her on a basic level. A level she didn’t understand.
It didn’t matter she could feel her strength slipping away as the enemy magic sucked her dry. Makenna’s work was succeeding. The tar-like power was separating from Trystan's. Resolve tightened in her. She wouldn’t stop now. She was so close.
“Kenna, stop now!”
Rhys’ yell penetrated her haze as an even louder wail blasted her eardrums to the point of rupturing. Sparks flew from inside of Trystan where the magics collided and singed her skin.
Then an explosion.
The force threw her up and back. She slammed into the wall and fell hard to the ground.
Rhys was immediately at her side. “Kenna! Love, are you hurt?” The fear in his voice, across their bond, pierced her heart. Just as it had during the battle when he’d turned to see the mage aiming for her. Just before Trystan jumped between them.
His sacrifice to rescue her.
Her scattered wits slowly came back together and the fog in her head cleared. Her ears rang. Her ass throbbed from hitting the floor and the wall. She felt like she’d been through a tornado, but untangled from the dark spell, her own magic and strength quickly returned.
Makenna’s eyes snapped open. “Did it work?”
Rhys’ shoulders drooped. He ran a soothing finger down her cheek. “I’m sorry, love. Nothing can─”
A sharp inhale from the bed had their heads spinning to where Trystan lay. He was convulsing like he had earlier. Hope flared in Makenna’s chest. He was alive. She’d brought him back. Bowen moved to restrain him with Rhys’ help.
“What the hell is happening?” Rhys growled at Bowen. “You said he was gone.”
Bowen shook his head furiously, brow furrowed. “He was. I don’t understand.”
That odd, reddish brown light wavered around Trystan again, and he settled. His eyes didn’t open. He didn’t respond to them. But his chest moved up and down, his breaths easy.
Makenna forced her body to work and moved toward the bed. Her brain scrambled for an explanation. Had she done what Bowen couldn’t do? Maybe this was something they hadn’t learned about her magic yet. Maybe it was part of her power as the Morrigan.
Seeing Rhys and Bowen’s utter shock, she knew this was something else entirely. It wasn’t normal, even for the Morrigan. Her heart raced. As did her rage at her sister.
She was tired of the evil bitch screwing with their lives like it was a sick game.
She grabbed Bowen’s shoulder and whirled him to face her. “What the fuck is going on?” The words held more bite than she’d intended. He winced. She softened her tone. “Sorry. I just don’t understand. If I didn’t do this, what did?”
Bowen patted her hand, then gave her a squeeze. “Ne’er do I know, lass.” He had a habit of slipping into the old brogue when he was angry or perplexed. She found it soothing. Found him soothing in an odd way she didn’t understand. “I’ve never seen such magic. This is unnatural.” Sympathy colored his gaze.
Unnatural.
Could it be that at her core, she was just like Brianna? That whatever power flowed through their blood was warped and twisted? Maybe since Kylian was evil, those he sired were as well. Maybe it was inevitable that she turned and became as depraved as her sister.
The thought sent a shiver through her bones. She shook her head against it. If her power had brought her friend back, done something good, it couldn’t be evil. Could it?
Rhys pulled her against him. “Don’t think like that. You’re nothing like Brianna.” He kissed her temple, smoothing his hands up and down her back.
Makenna raised watery eyes to his. “But─”
Bowen gripped her shoulders. “There is no evil in you. Of that I am certain.” He placed a kiss on her forehead. “You are light and goodness. A protector.” He cupped her cheek. “Just because something is unnatural does not mean it is evil. We simply have never seen a Morrigan as powerful as you.” Pride glittered in his eyes. “Go rest now. I will watch over Trystan.”
Makenna wanted to argue but there was nothing more she could do. And she was suddenly exhausted. She took one last look at Trystan. He still breathed easy, though his features were tense. “Will he wake up?”
Bowen shrugged. “I do not know. Perhaps. It seems the magic has suspended him in a sort of stasis. We shall see.”
Rhys held Makenna tighter against him. “Let us know if his condition changes.” Bowen nodded, and Rhys led Makenna toward the door.
Makenna vibrated with the need to do something. If she didn’t keep moving, the chaotic thoughts she was trying desperately to avoid would overtake her. She looked around the infirmary at their warriors in various stages of healing. “I need to check on─”
“No.” Rhys pulled her outside. “They’re being well cared for. They’ll be fine. Even Trystan. You’ve done everything you can.”
Makenna sighed heavily as Rhys led her toward the house. “If it wasn’t for me, some of them wouldn’t be in there. Trystan wouldn’t be...” A small sob escaped. She and Trystan had just made peace. Had just begun to grow closer. She couldn’t lose him now.
“This is not your fault. It’s Kylian’s.” Rhys’ words came through gritted teeth.
He drew Makenna under his arm. She melted into him, greedy for his touch. She slipped an arm around his waist and pressed a kiss to his bare shoulder. His tense muscles relaxed at the contact. Hopefully coming close to losing her had made him see that finding comfort in each other would help them get through this war whole and sane.
As Rhys led her into the house and up the stairs, Makenna hoped he was ready to close the distance between them. They’d lost so much in this war already. If she didn’t have him, really have him, there was no point to anything.
They needed to appreciate the life, the love, they had.
Or they might just lose it all.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Breathe
Rhys kept a tight hold on Makenna as they ascended the stairs.
Today had been four kinds of fucked up. He’d almost lost her. Again. Might still lose his Beta. The feel of Makenna’s soft skin was the only thing that kept him from losing his mind.
He glanced toward Amanda’s door. He almost stopped to tell her Trystan was still with them, but could hear Talon’s voice, trying to calm his sister. Trying to get her to go back to her mate. If anyone could convince her to return it was Talon. So he continued up the stairs.
Rhys needed time with his own mate. He was starved for her. And with the wild energy and feral magic firing his veins, he needed a release. The god within had responded to the goddess’ display of power, ratcheting that hunger for her higher. Only she would do.
He closed the door behind them and watched Makenna tug off her torn shirt. Gods, she was perfect. Smooth skin. Perfect breasts that fit just right in his hands. She shimmied out of her boots and tattered leathers, putting that delectable ass on display.
He slid out of his own muddy boots, his gaze never leaving her body.
Why had he been fighting his need for her?
This fucking war. They’d been forced into mayhem with no time to breathe. Because of that, their bond wasn’t yet fully realized. It never would be if they continued this way.
Makenna stretched, thrusting her breasts forward and her ass toward him. Unintentionally seductive. Oblivious to the temptation she presented. As she rummaged in the bureau for clean clothes, she bent over.
His wolf growled, wanting at their mate. Snapping at Rhys for not feeding the hunger in their blood. The wolf wanted to roll around in her scent. Wanted to claim her all over again. Rhys wanted the same thing. But she was exhausted. And if Trystan hadn’t leaped to her rescue, she could have died today. Again, the thought charged his blood.
He could’ve lost her. Just the possibility stabbed his chest and stole his breath.
Makenna flicked a glance over her shoulder. Her desire for his touch beat at his skin. Pulsed in his own blood. “You can shower with me. If you want to.”
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