Page 26 of Upon Shattered Bonds

Zeke knew that behind the werewolf alpha’s front, the feral beast inside was hungry for blood. He was equally as homicidal but said nothing.

“Oh, yes?” Rhonnen’s eyebrows raised in mock question. “Well, I’d hate to cut her beauty regimen short, but I’ve heard she might be a bit … under the weather.”

The words were poison to Zeke’s ears, a ruthless acknowledgement of Nina’s predicament and her accompanying weakness. The confirmation by this arrogant youngling had proven that the assassin’s attempt on her life would not be a one-off occurrence.

Despite all the warnings in his head, Zeke stepped forward—only to be halted by the sound of her voice.

“Then you heard wrong, didn’t you?”

Nina, striding out to meet the challenging Raeth with her sword in hand, flowed past him with her customary grace. Nothing in her step indicated her current state. If Zeke hadn’t known she’d been compromised earlier this morning, he’d see no trace of it now.

“Leave my territory, Rhonnen. If you challenge me, I’ll end you.”

“We shall see.” Mirth colored Rhonnen’s tone, his pompous smirk earning nothing but ill-will. “Tell me, have you fielded any visitors lately?”

Unamused, Nina inclined her head. “I tire of your voice. Speak the words, youngling, or I’ll send you back to your sovereign in pieces.”

Or being the operative word. If Nina were at full strength, this challenge would have amounted to little more than a wrist slap.

She wasn’t—and Rhonnen knew it.

Chapter Eleven

Nina had never been a very good actress. Though she’d played various roles during her very long life, this was potentially the hardest of them: to convince the men before her that the pain permeating her tissues and sapping her strength didn’t exist.

If Kaien or Aidan believed her to be incapable of protecting herself, they might attempt to spare her or fight in her stead. Showing weakness was too great a slight against her pride, and she was determined to see this through.

Rhonnen had already shown his hand and Nina would soon be on the receiving end of his antagonism. In preparation, the air around her warmed, the comforting tingle of electricity racing over her skin like a lover’s embrace. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her katana.

“Nina Guevara, I challenge you for the right to rule the Blaede clan.”

Instantaneously, the familiar white glow of the orb above illuminated the dusky plain they stood upon. With an audible pop, the connections that mapped over the surface of Nina’s mind dissolved, the psychic network yanked from her without preamble. Any Raeth challenge for sovereignty began with the severing of that network, because the fights had to be fought on even ground. If Rhonnen managed to kill her, he’d be awarded the leadership of her clan, and a rudimentary network he’d have to build for himself.

Alone in the recesses of her mind, Nina screamed at the loss of her mental web, spun with extreme care over centuries. She’d barely managed to reignite the weakened tendrils of connection after she had woken up.

Nina wouldn’t allow herself to dwell on it. As soon as the pop rang out and the network was severed, only one thought crossed her mind.

This was going to hurt.

A crack of lightning illuminated the battlefield, filling it with the smell of ozone. The roar of thunder followed, deafening, as particles of plasma fused with her cells the electrostatic discharge obeying her psychic command as if sentient. Brilliant fire blazed around her, fueling her, and giving her the means to end Rhonnen’s life.

She’d mastered her Spark ability, creating and harnessing electricity, bending it to her purposes. Over the centuries, Nina had discovered how to ‘cage’ the impossible speed of lightning and effectually travel through the current she created. It was much faster than even the swiftest teleport.

In the next moment, violet-tinged electricity mapped a devastating path toward the other Raeth, who was poised to flee. The speed of Nina’s attack couldn’t be avoided.

A muted thunk sounded upon the dried grass. Nina’s blade had swung true and Rhonnen’s head had separated from his body.

Silence. Static whispered over her skin, dissipating almost instantaneously as Nina squared her shoulders and exhaled into the shadows of night.

Even injured, she hadn’t been in danger of losing to Rhonnen. The only threat he’d posed to her sovereignty was one of compounded depletion. He was the first in a long line of people who’d come to fight for her throne, eventually wearing down her defenses.

This was only the beginning. It would be in her best interest to kill all challengers immediately with as little psychic energy as possible, and pray that, in the meantime, her heart would fully heal.

Overhead, the glowing orb immediately awarded her the clan’s network once more, the familiar mental signatures rushing back into her mind like a tidal wave. Eyes frosting ice white in response to the powerful surge of energy required to reestablish the network, Nina felt it lap deeply from the depleted reservoir of her psychic strength.

It took less than a minute to reconstruct the ties with her clansmen. The psychic valve between them, broken before the battle, reformed correctly. Every cell of her body was crying in agony, every breath drawn into her lungs seemingly a mouthful of glass that sliced down her throat and into her core. She ached for rest, but the coming minutes would grant her no such mercy.

Rhonnen’s sovereign, Demetrios, would have sensed the loss of his clansman with the fatal severing of their connection. And as was customary with any challenge, the other sovereign was within his right to request an audience and retrieve his body.

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