MacRieve

EIGHT

When Chloe had heard the word “purchased,” something in her snapped.

This Velees guy gripped her around her waist, lifting her off her feet, tucking her against his bare chest. Still she fought and kicked. “Don u tou ee!” she screamed into her gag, thrashing against him with all her might. “Leh ee o!”

Screaming, thrashing—

Her foot struck what felt like the barrel chest of a horse. Her mind denied this—the man who had her was simply riding a horse, like a cowboy. A shirtless cowboy, of course.

Even over her frenzied fight, she heard people close to the stage gasp. Murmurs arose, cries. She could see nothing.

Then came the unholy roar of some beast.

A familiar roar. She’d heard one like it the night of the championships. Just as before, chills raced through her.

Silence fell over the crowd. After an extended moment, what sounded like chaos erupted.

—“Run! The Lykae’s turning!”

—“Ah, gods, don’t get between them!”

—“She’s MacRieve’s mate!”

Mate? Lykae? What had she read about them? Each had a beast housed inside—and each one sought its fated mate above all things. And she was this one’s female? Hysterical laughter threatened, until she heard a low, feral growl.

The ground shook as people fled. What the hell was happening?

Velees snapped to some unseen person, “Mind yourself, wolf.” But he was backing away, with Chloe clamped tightly against his body. Hooves stamped the stage.

“I’ll snap this mortal’s neck.” Velees continued his steady retreat. “Another step closer, and she’s dead!”

In a beastly, grating voice, the Lykae answered: “Mine.”

That one word had Velees yanking her into his side and leaping off the back of the stage to hit the ground running—as if for his life. He yelled, “Cover me from the wolf!”

At that, she heard the clomping of hooves, a herd of them. As what sounded like a brutal fight broke out, a man yelled back, “Cerunnos attacking from the south!”

Were these beings now going to battle over her? The Lykae howled as if fighting his way closer.

Velees abruptly turned in another direction, flinging her with him. She thrashed to get the bag off her head, but it was tied on. Can’t see . . . can’t see!

Some being was just beside them; she heard its breaths. Then came a hissing sound, a gurgle, and suddenly she and Velees were falling, falling . . .

With another gurgle, Velees heaved her upward, pitching her body into the air, like a chipped pass—

Someone caught her in midair, wrapping a palm around her right arm and dragging her against his upper body. Another one of the cowboys? Damn it, there was no denying it—a centaur had her!

He held her as if she weighed nothing, yelling to the others, “The wolf comes for her! Kill him!”

Coming for her. Because I’m its . . . mate. Oh, man, that couldn’t be good. She wanted this centaur to get her far away from that wolf! She screamed against her gag, “Moo ur ass! Hu-y!”

“Silence.” Centaur gave her a shake, dislocating her shoulder with a pop. Pain flared, and she couldn’t bite back a scream.

The wolf gave an enraged howl from some distance behind them.

She whimpered. He’s gaining. Every gallop made fresh pain shoot through her arm and shoulder.

When some creature hissed beside them, Centaur yelled, “Nooo!”

No? No what—

She heard a solid thud, felt a teeth-jarring impact, heard bone snap. Centaur was flung onto his side. As that wolf roared in fury, still nearing, she and Centaur crashed to the ground. His hold loosened; he fumbled for her, but she’d already gone careening along his horse body, over its flank. She bounced over something metallic and sharp—a sword?—and pain sliced into her.

She hit the ground with a thud, the air wrenched from her lungs. Her side was slashed, pouring blood. She’d just sucked in her first hectic gasp when she got scooped up like a goalie save by some being that undulated over the ground.

Her mind fought recognition with this new captor, even as chills broke out over her skin. Some subconscious awareness within her screamed: Snake!

With a wet hiss to the sky, the creature increased its unfathomable speed. It sounded like others of its kind were flanking them. They were flying across the ground so fast that bugs pelted Chloe’s black bag like a windshield. Then the being began zigzagging around trees, limbs swatting her legs.

Surely nothing could catch this creature? Not even a wolf . . .

As soon as the thought arose, she heard something crashing through the woods nearby, matching even this thing’s fantastical speed.

They have my mate.

Will’s thoughts were murky, his beast in control, Instinct ruling him.

The need to protect her . . . he’d never felt a more primal drive.

In the distance, he heard a war zone, his brother wolf roaring, fighting to reach him; closer, he heard his female.

His heart seemed to stop each time she screamed. How much could she withstand? Her scent was just as loud to him. Her fear. Her blood.

He’d left dead, twitching centaurs in his wake, could still taste their throats, could feel their flesh embedded under his claws.

Now Cerunnos. So many of them, their scaly bodies whipping around trees. When the terrain became an open field, he gained. But another forest loomed.

He heard her cries, her frantic heartbeat. Beating, beating, beating.

Cypress, broken leaves. Somehow he ran faster, lungs heaving. He was upon them! Kill them all.

Slashing claws, snapping jaws. Warm blood rained down.

One remained, her captor. To take it down—without harming her? He sank his claws into its tail, snatching it up short. The momentum sent the girl flying. Will hurtled into the air.

Got her. He cradled her protectively, his arms closing around his trembling mate for the first time.

The last Cerunno coiled to strike. Will roared, baring his bloody fangs. Try to take her from me!

Taking his measure with slitted eyes, it hesitated. Will licked his fangs; with a hiss, the snake wisely began to slither a retreat.

Will threw back his head and howled with triumph.

Now to put the beast back in its cage. . . .