One swift lunge forward. That was all it would take. Just falling would probably do the trick. The blade was so sharp she hoped she would feel as little as possible. She’d talked Alyssa out of taking her own life, but hypocrite that she was she saw no such alternative for herself. She wound her spine with steel as strong, took a deep breath and forced herself to do it. Now. Now before her nerve failed. Before she consigned herself to a lifetime of slow death in River Holt.
This was better. Quicker. This was what should be.
Silver flashed right in front of her eyes and with a noise like the ringing of bells, her sword was dashed away. Jeren cried out as she fell, not to her death but to empty space.
Strong hands caught her before she could hit the ground, arms that moved so quickly that they blurred. But she could still see their porcelain pale skin, marked with patches of a blue as vibrant as a summer sky in spirals and whorls, as if a child had painted it with overlong fingers.
It wasn’t possible. He had gone. He had changed and gone with the Otherlings. Months ago. A lifetime ago.
Naul gave a whimper of greeting and crouched low, his ears pinned back as he crept forwards, his tail going eagerly.
Jeren closed her eyes as the wolf came closer, as he nuzzled and licked the man holding her, so wolfish a gesture to greet a pack member. Joy unrestrained in being reunited with his friend.
The interloper laughed, actually laughed, and Jeren’s heart wrenched in her chest. She sobbed and his touch gentled, while Naul turned to her instead, trying to comfort her, encourage her, assure her that there was no threat.
“It can’t be you. You went with them. You left me.”
Shan’s touch gentled and he released her, his fingertip lingering against her skin. Jeren turned towards him as he pulled back. For a moment his face was as she last remembered it, all hard plains and angels, all steel beneath taut skin. The alien cast of his features was even more pronounced by the markings the Otherlings had placed on him and his eyes, endless black, were too like those of the Fellna. Then he softened, that hard line of his mouth curving into a faint smile.
His smile.
“I have missed you so, little one.”
His voice sounded slightly deeper. But then everything about him seemed to have changed, and yet remained the same. There was music in the sound of his words.
“You left me.” She could still see it, that nightmarish moment where he had chosen them over her.
“You refused to come with me.”
She glanced around, checking the shadowed corners of her room. “Where are they?”
Shan frowned, examining her closely with his razor sharp gaze. “Far away. Amid the ice and snow where they can encounter no one but themselves. Hidden.”
Jeren released a breath she had not been aware of holding. “So you couldn’t tame them?”
He chuckled, the sound so abrupt that it made her start. She couldn’t recall being this on edge around him since she had first discovered what he was. Ah, but he was something different again now. Something far stranger, far more dangerous. “I never intended to tame them. They can’t be tamed, Jeren. Look at Naul. Do you consider him tamed?”
That brought a smile to her face. No. Nobody could consider Naul tamed. Shan’s fingertips traced delicate lines on her cheek and she shuddered, her smile fading in a curious mixture of alarm and desire.
“Do they think they have tamed you?” Shan asked. “These people of River Holt?” He bent his head, brushed his lips against hers. “Then they’re fools.” He threaded his long and elegant fingers through her braids, fanning them out, admiration written large across his features. “You are Shistra-Phail, then, now and forever. My mate. That will never change either. Estere cara’mae, Jeren.”
You are my mate, Jeren.
She pulled back, had to, to put distance between them, if only to let herself think. She needed to think.
“What are you now, Shan? Why are you back?”
His face fell, and to her astonishment she could see pain in his eyes. “Naul told me what you were planning. I couldn’t let you do it. Not you.”
Shock poured ice down her back. She glared at the wolf. “Traitor.” Naul gave a dismissive bark. “And I thought you were on my side.” Shan cleared his throat, bringing her attention back to him. “What choice did I have? Stay here? Like this?”
He took a tentative step towards her. “I can give you a choice now. Again. You asked me to come back for you, remember?”
“And you never answered.”
“I’m here, Jeren. Isn’t that an answer?”
She froze, staring at him, her mind whirling. “You came back to stop me killing myself.”
He shook his head, his braids whispering against one another. “I came back because you told me to.”
“Shan...” She forced herself to breathe smoothly, tried to calm her thundering heart and failed. “It’s been months. It’s been—I thought you were gone forever. I thought—” She wouldn’t cry. Liath help her, she would not cry. Not for him. Not now.
She’d cried every tear she could spare.
Felan’s sword caught the moonlight. Her sword. The last thing holding her to River Holt. She didn’t need it anymore. It was destined for her nephew now and she only prayed he wouldn’t need it as much as she and Gilliad had.
But she wasn’t done with it just yet.
Jeren leapt across the room, snatching up the blade from the ground. She turned on Shan, ready to attack and found him armed, waiting. She didn’t hesitate, couldn’t. No more than she could cry for him.
Shan bared his teeth, sharper than she remembered, so very white. His eyes narrowed, though more in pleasure than rage. “This is what you want?”
Yes, this and every moment in between. This until the end of her life. With a cry of rage, she rushed him and Shan stepped aside, bringing his sword up to intercept hers. She whirled away, her heart pumping adrenaline through her system, feeling more alive than she had in months. With a shout, she attacked again, and again.
Shan laughed, a bold and life-affirming sound which sent her blood soaring. Their swords clashed, held and they stood, body to body, only separated by steel. His scent filled her lungs, intoxicating her. For a moment she just gazed at him, at his eyes, at his painted skin, at her mate, the one soul who could always call to hers.
“You left me,” she whispered.
“I came back.”
“And now?”
“Come with me.”
“Where? Where can we go?”
His mouth quirked, the corners rising, and the smile spread up to the warm, liquid depths of his eyes. “Anywhere we want, little one.”
She took his mouth with hers, pressing body to body, the swords still trapped between them. The kiss was savage, a kiss of equals, born of need and loss and desperation. Dropping the weapons, she sank her hands into his hair, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him to her. Shan lifted her from the ground, holding her against him as he backed towards the wall. His mouth left hers but only to trail a line of fire down her jaw and neck. Clothing fell away, their eager hands struggling to free each other. Shan’s body bore the same patterning all over, but where his skin was still the marble white she could still see the blue shadows of his veins. She traced the lines, licked the new marks, grazed the surface with her teeth until he groaned with need.
Shan pulled her to him, kissed her as he entered her. She tore her mouth free so she could cry out his name and wrapped her legs around his hips. This was right. More than right. Wolves mated for life, one pair, two souls entwined, and so did they. Shan froze, fighting to hold on, struggling to wait for her, his entire body iron beneath her.