by Dana Archer
Carrying a covered clay bowl, Uri approaches me, blocking my view of Mya. “Don’t worry. Mya and her babies are fine. My cats sense their strength.”
Although Mya already shared this knowledge with her small nod a few hours ago, hearing the confirmation from a Royal lifts a weight from my shoulders.
I dip my head in appreciation of Uri’s words. It’s enough to express my gratitude for the insight. My partner won’t expect more from me. “Wyatt killed Todd after learning Mya’s carrying boys.”
“Yeah.” Uri’s mouth twists in disgust. “Todd was alive and trying to get out of the truck. There was no way Mya could’ve shot him before being thrown from the vehicle. My guess is Wyatt arrived on the scene. His house is only a few hundred feet from the crash site.”
“Todd was probably trying to go check on Mya when Wyatt arrived.” His unborn sons would be the only thing he cared about ensuring weren’t hurt. “Mya must’ve told him she was carrying boys.”
“If I was a female in fear of my unborn babies’ lives and locked in a car with an unstable shifter male, I’d do the same. She happens to be right too. Her scent has changed ever so slightly since the last time I saw her. Definitely boys.”
I can’t wait to meet them. Only one thing stands in my way. I focus on where Wyatt is crouched just inside the Jager pack’s sacred circle. His attention isn’t on me. It’s on Mya and the Jager pack’s alpha female, who are talking with their heads together several dozen feet from him. The low growl coming from my wolf fits my mood perfectly. No one is allowed to look at our true mate that way. Soon, I’ll have the legal and mystical right to guarantee nobody can.
Thanks to Uri.
“You suggested a berserker brawl on purpose, didn’t you?” Uri no doubt understands the danger Wyatt poses. Without a way to tie him to Ambrosia dealing or Ben’s and Todd’s deaths, Wyatt will walk. And hurt Mya. The way he looks at Mya isn’t the kind of fascination that passes with time. It’s the obsessive kind.
“My cousin Anton is an elder member of the Shifter Council. I know how things work there. If Wyatt goes to them claiming survivor rights to Mya, they’ll hand her over, even if he’s dealing Ambrosia or a murderer. He’s the last male of his bloodline.” Uri lifts the lid on the clay bowl. “That can’t happen. Losing Mya will kill you. I don’t want to be partnered up with another agent. My cats have accepted you. They’re protective of you.”
The scents of blood and life draw my attention to the bowl. Uri dips his fingers into the contents, a mix of rich soil from the Jager pack’s sacred circle and Ethan Jager’s blood, then spreads the thick paste over my forehead and cheeks, then across my bare chest.
The concoction is part of the ritual, and once the fight starts, it’ll trap me inside the circle with Wyatt until one of us loses our life. It’ll also prevent us from shifting. This fight is meant to mimic how our forefathers settled disputes, before they became shifters.
Warmth spreads through me from the streaks Uri’s painting on my naked body to the balls of my feet. I flex my toes. Although not green and lush as the Ammon pack’s circle, there’s life here too. I can feel the Jager pack spirit’s magic. It’s as powerful as Mya’s pack spirit. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it recognizes me. Maybe from my connection to Mya. I’m not sure. I hope it lends me guidance tonight, however. I can’t lose this fight.
“I might die tonight anyway. If I do—”
“You won’t. Remember your conversation with Molly.” Uri replaces the cover on the bowl and walks to where Mya is standing. He’ll protect her while I’m fighting. Of that I have no doubt.
Mya turns and locks her gaze with mine. Confidence shows in her eyes. While we haven’t been able to talk, I can feel her love and commitment. It radiates through the piece of her soul I carry. I mouth the words I love you to her. Her answering smile spreads strength through me.
“Are you ready to die, Agent Lyall?”
Wyatt’s question forces me to turn away from Mya. It’s time to start this. Instead of answering Wyatt, I make my way to the large flat rock near the center of the circle and the two glass beer mugs waiting there.
I motion to them. “Choose one.”
Wyatt holds his hands up. “It’s only proper to allow a visiting shifter to drink first. That way, you can’t say I rigged this brawl.”
Considering Molly, with Uri’s help, brewed the Ambrosia Wyatt and I are about to drink, it’s impossible. I watched Uri pour the drinks before he painted Wyatt’s face as he did mine.
I select the mug closest to me while Wyatt grabs the other. Without wasting another moment, I down the Ambrosia-laced drink that reminds me of a dark stout beer. Fire burns my throat, then spreads through my veins. I sway, then lock my knees.
I hadn’t expected the Ambrosia to kick in so fast, but then again, I’ve never taken it. I don’t know what’s normal, and all the accounts I read on Ambrosia were from casual users who embraced the delusional state it causes.
With my knees locked and dizziness making the world feel as though it’s undulating, I motion to Wyatt. “Drink up.”
Wyatt raises his gaze to the moon. I too feel its pull as midnight approaches. Within seconds, a dome will form around this circle as it does during an alpha’s challenge. Only death or the passing of the hour will unlock the mystical walls. This is one of the few rituals that can occur at any day of the moon’s cycle since we’re required to fight in our human forms.
“The goddesses power over our lives is dimming, Agent Lyall. Every time a weak shifter is born or a human becomes a mate, their influence lessens. Today, their ability to touch our lives is at its weakest point.”
I clench my hands. As much as I want this fight to start, midnight needs to arrive to seal us in. A death beforehand won’t free Mya. She’ll still go before the Council. I won’t take the chance they’ll punish her, saying she killed Todd. “I don’t agree. The goddesses still guide us, but in more subtle ways.”
“That’s what Ben told me when I asked him why he betrayed our pack. He said the goddesses guided him to the Kagan pack, where his true mate lives.” Wyatt chuckles. “She’s a child still, apparently. At least I saved her by freeing her to mate a worthy male.”
My breath catches. This is what I’ve been waiting for. Hearing it now doesn’t help me, unfortunately. One of us will die in moments. “Save her how?”
Wyatt lifts his mug to his nose and sniffs the contents. “By killing Ben Tanner.”
A shimmering circle of iridescent light illuminates the night, marking the boundary of the sacred circle. With each passing second, it grows brighter and taller. Foggy walls rise around us. A multicolored mist caps the enclosure, locking me inside with Ben’s killer. “You killed Todd too, didn’t you?”
Wyatt lifts the mug to his mouth. The smile on his face tells the truth. I need it, if only to give Mya closure.
“Didn’t you?” I demand.
“Of course.”
Wyatt throws the mug at me. The ambrosia-laced drink blinds me. I wipe the thick drink from my eyes. A punch to my face knocks me back a step. Another punch to my eyes steals my vision. I shake my head. My knees buckle, sending me to the ground.
In the next instant, I hop to my feet. Wyatt unleashes his claws and takes a third swing. I catch his wrist, breaking the bone, and shove him back. He curses while I spread my arms wide, trying to regain my balance and stop myself from falling flat on my face. The world won’t stop spinning. It has to, or else I’m going to lose this fight. A broken wrist won’t hamper Wyatt for long. He has another hand.
I stagger away from Wyatt, even though his image blurs with each step I put between us. Staying within arm’s length is suicide. Relying on whatever instincts I can tap into is the only thing that’ll keep me alive. At the moment, that’s sound. I can hear Wyatt’s breathing. He’s several feet away and still in his human form.
“Can you answer me, Agent Lyall?”
The rules demanded we both drink the Ambrosia-laced drink. T
here’s nobody in this circle to enforce them, however. The shimmering dome surrounding us prevents anyone from interfering in this ritual battle.
“You can’t.” Wyatt’s laugh turns into a cackling rattle. “You’re weak. Pathetic. You can’t even handle a little Ambrosia. You’re definitely not worth the female you fight for.”
Weak, no. Pathetic, maybe. I didn’t expect Wyatt to break the rules. I should’ve. Too late now. “No, you are the pathetic one. The rules of this ritual demanded we both drink.”
“Rules are made to be broken. My old alpha knew this. He encouraged his dominants to twist any we saw fit. It’s how I thrived under his leadership, building a fortune out of nothing. Now, I’m one of the richest shifters in West Virginia. Did you know that, Agent Lyall?”
Using Wyatt’s voice and his blurred form as a marker, I pivot, keeping him directly in front of me. “I know that your old alpha was as weak as you are.”
“Smart, not weak. Michael Tanner took the out given to him. He left this debt-ridden and failing pack without losing his life or his fortune. It’s sitting in a foreign bank account just waiting for him to access it. I have one too. There’s millions in it.”
“It’s dirty money.” Once I step out of this circle, I’ll be tipping off Shifter Affairs too.
“Works the same. It’ll allow me to run with Mya, ensuring nobody can find us. I can raise those boys she’s carrying as mine and turn them into feared dominants, males who will return here and build a strong pack.”
Wyatt’s taunting me. Not attacking me. Giving his bone a chance to mend itself? Or for the Ambrosia to kick in? Going by my blurred vision and dizziness, I’d say it already has, but the accounts I’ve read pointed to delusional states where the user feels powerful. I haven’t reached that point.
I feel slightly sick. I can barely defend myself. It only takes a split second to take a head, ending a life. I don’t trust my instincts and other senses enough to risk getting close to Wyatt to take his life. If I die, Wyatt can carry out his threat. Mya will suffer, along with her children.
“I convinced Todd to claim Mya, to impregnate her, to break her. My nephew succeeded in two out of the three. I will finish what he didn’t, turning Mya into a submissive. My submissive.” The confession is whispered into my ear.
“Never!” With my hand raised, I spin. My claws pass through air. I stumble, landing hard on my knees.
The air currents around me change. My wolf clues me in to the danger. I lean back, avoiding Wyatt’s clawed hand, then sweep a leg out, toppling Wyatt. He rolls away.
“Are you feeling delusional yet?” Wyatt’s voice comes from behind me. “Or still feeling drunk?”
I push to my feet and turn to face the fuzzy shape I know to be Wyatt. A thump builds in my head, making Wyatt’s heartbeat and voice sound as if I’m hearing it underwater. I focus on the distorted sound. It’s the only sense I have left. “Neither. Contemplating the best way to kill you, actually.”
“I’ll wait, then. I need you delusional. For those first few minutes, you’ll be as weak as a babe. Just like Mya was. She didn’t know what was happening when Todd forced himself on her. Stupid whore actually thought she agreed to have sex with Todd.”
Wyatt speaks softly, or maybe I’m losing my hearing as completely as I lost my vision, but I can still make out his words. They send a fiery rage through me. I lunge at the blurred image of Wyatt and hit the ground where Wyatt stood seconds ago. His laughter comes from behind me.
“Mya was drugged?” I face the direction of the sound, but I don’t see Wyatt. Darkness overshadows everything. “Is that what you’re saying?”
“If you have to ask after I told you the truth, you’re as stupid as my nephew and just as weak. Just as pathetic. But he was…” Mya’s voice blends with Wyatt’s. “He’s weaker than you are. Fight him!”
They’re both talking to me. I can’t tell who’s saying what. I press my hands to my temples. The pounding in my head is driving me nuts. If it would only stop, I’d be able to focus on what Mya’s saying. Or Wyatt. Or whoever is talking to me.
I reach for my wolf, needing his instincts. The connection to him is gone. The connection to Mya is gone. There’s a black hole where my soul used to be. It’s as if I’m already dead.
I stumble forward. Maybe if I get closer to the walls enclosing this circle, I’ll be able to hear Mya. She can be my eyes.
My toes catch on something jagged. I fall forward, cracking my forehead on a rock. Hot, thick blood runs down my face. Pain whips through me, but the distorted sound of a heartbeat grows louder and clearer.
Wyatt’s coming at me.
I scramble away from him. Without my vision and without my wolf, I’m as weak and pathetic as Wyatt accused me of being. I can’t let it stop me. “Answer me! Was Mya drugged?”
No verbal response, but the sound of Wyatt’s heartbeat quickens.
Grateful I haven’t lost my hearing completely, I slowly turn in a circle, using Wyatt’s heartbeat as a focus point. “It’s the pathetic among us who can’t abide by our laws, and those are clear. Shifters don’t kill those weaker than them, and they don’t drug a female so she can’t fight off a male who’s trying to rape her! Shifters who break our rules end up being punished by their packs or Shifter Affairs. The truth doesn’t stay hidden forever.”
The scent of fear reaches me. It’s Wyatt’s. I grin. “You fit into that category. You committed both of those sins. You shot Ben and you provided Ambrosia to Todd so he could drug Mya. Didn’t you?”
I wait for a response. Nothing. Why isn’t he talking? Why isn’t he doing anything? I can’t see to fight back. Surely, Wyatt knows that’s what happens to people under a heavy dose of Ambrosia. Unless he didn’t expect me to still be standing. Or breathing. If so, he underestimated me. I won’t go down easily. I have someone to fight for. Several someones.
“Answer me!” I push the full force of my will into the demand.
“Silence is a smart choice for liars. It’s an even better choice for killers.”
That’s not Wyatt’s voice. It’s…
“Ilan?” I know it’s him. I know his voice. Why is he here?
He doesn’t answer me either. I blink hard. The darkness dims, allowing the world around me to come into focus.
I pivot and scan the grounds. The grass beneath my feet is greener than before stepping into this circle. The stars are brighter too. But I don’t see Wyatt. Or Ilan. Actually, I don’t see anyone, not even Mya, and I know she’s close.
Mya wouldn’t abandon me. If I’m to believe my eyes, she did, though. Everyone did. They left me alone. But I’m not. Wyatt’s here, waiting to kill me when I’m at my weakest and can’t fight back. Ilan’s here too. He’s here to give me advice. To tell me how to survive. He’s an ancient, the grandson of a goddess.
Ilan understands Ambrosia better than anyone.
The moment the thought forms, I frown. It doesn’t feel right. I met someone who used to make Ambrosia and take it. Didn’t I?
An image of a child with white-blonde pigtails flashes before me. She hands me a cracker and looks at me with the haunted eyes of an adult who’s seen too much and hurt too many. Blood wells from the spot between her eyes and runs down her small nose.
No! I press the heels of my hands to my eyes. I’m losing my mind.
“Ready to die, Agent Lyall?” Ilan asks me.
I spin to face the angel of death. He’s not there. Nobody is. “No! I won’t die tonight. Wyatt will.”
Laughter echoes around me.
Why is Ilan laughing at me? He’s on Mya’s side. She’s his little sister, and Mya’s my woman. Ilan wouldn’t betray us. I believe that with everything I am. It can’t be Ilan laughing. It’s someone else.
The deep laugh turns feminine.
“No!” It’s not Mya either. My true mate wouldn’t find amusement in this.
I shake my head, clearing it of the delusion. That’s what it is. That’s what all of this is. It’s
not real. The blonde child dying, Ilan taunting me, Mya laughing—they’re all delusions. If I can rationalize enough to recognize that, why can’t I stop them? Every time I identify something as false, something else surfaces and pulls me under, yanking the ground right out from under me.
The moment the thought crosses my mind, the ground underfoot undulates, then gives way. A scream pierces me. Mine? Or Mya’s? Or someone else? I can’t tell with the wind rushing by me. I’m falling, really falling. Gusts of wind toss my hair around.
I blink against the stinging air. Flailing, I try to stop my fall. There’s nothing to grab on to. There’s only air. It’s all around me, and I keep falling. The ground is so far away.
Finally, a hard jerk shakes my body. The ground—I must’ve hit the ground. I roll, but something stops me. The pressure on my side increases. A crunching noise gives way to a white-hot pain. Something rams into my other side. More crunching noises. More pain. A hard shove to my hip sends me sliding over something wet and warm.
Piercing agony flows through me.
In the next heartbeat, the blackness cloaking my vision clears, giving me a view of the stars in the sky. I breathe a sigh of relief at the sight. The dizziness eases with my exhale, and the sick feeling in my gut fades.
My mind feels clearer. I can think, and I know what the sharp pain in my sides mean. My ribs are cracked. My lungs might even be pierced. That’s not enough to kill me. I’m too strong.
An image flashes before me—the distinctive tread of a boot. It fills my vision, blocking out the stars. In the next heartbeat, the image is gone. I see the night sky again. I try to stand, but the pain in my side from my cracked ribs steals my breath. I drop back to the ground.
The tread of a boot fills my vision a second time. I grab the leather boot before it crushes my face, and push, toppling the man trying to crack my skull. Wyatt falls backward. I unleash my claws and jump to my feet.
