Page 89 of Gift from the Stone

Whipping my head back around, the four of them are letting out fearsome snarls, their bodies shaking, and the light of a transformation shines bright, blinding us momentarily. The air is tense with the energy coming off them as they shift. I can feel their combined magic pulsing through the arena.

They’re all big-ass men, and their wolves are just the same, standing as tall as me from paw to shoulder. The hairs at the nape of their necks bristle as they prowl around one another, preparing to strike, and aggression leaks from the growls that leave their peeled back lips, revealing sharp ivory teeth.

The only reason I can tell them apart is because each of their thick coats, shiny and sleek, match the color of their human hair.

Kael’s a smooth milk chocolate brown, like a melted Hershey bar. Eirik’s coloring reminds me of clay, burnt orange, the same dark shade as his ginger hair. Rylan’s coat is blond, almost white, like sand on a beautiful beach. And Lyker’s a streak of darkness. His coat is entirely obsidian black, the kind of black that when the sun goes down, you’d only be able to see his eyes floating in the dark abyss.

In a flurry of motion, Kael lunges at Rylan with the ferocity of a raging bull, sending the two of them rolling backward, kicking up a dust storm in their wake.

Eirik and Lyker waste no time. Fangs bared and claws drawn, they attack with lightning speed, their forms a blur of fur. The clash of jaws and the sharp sound of claws meeting resonate through the center. Each advance is a calculated move, a combination of aggression and defense as they attempt to establish dominance over the other.

Focusing hard on the two of them, tracking every movement, they’re both testing the limits of one another. Whereas Lyker is trying to force him into a position to yield, Eirik wants to end him. I can sense the hostility pouring off him with every deadly strike he tries to land. His unwarranted hatred coats my tongue in ash and makes my stomach turn in disgust as I continue to glare at the wildly different fighting styles.

Blood-soaked paws pound into the sand as Eirik lunges at Lyker, jaws wide, preparing to bite a chunk out of him. With a powerful swipe of his paw, Lyker’s claws rake across Eirik’s side, leaving a trail of crimson pouring from the gash. Eirik’s yelp of pain fades fast into a whine of submission as Lyker grips his neck in his teeth.

The moment of relief I feel and the breath I just released is sucked right back in when a blood-chilling no is screamed across the arena. Frantically following the sound, I find a woman and three other males being held back from trying to cross the railing to get into the center. At first, I thought they were upset about Eirik until I look down and see Kael pinning Rylan, ignoring his whine of submission.

“Holy shit, he’s going to kill him. Can he do that? But Rylan’s submitting. Can he do that?” I ask, yelling, standing up from my seat, locking eyes with the Primary across the arena from me.

Four sets of hands grab onto me as I try to take a step forward. “I’m sorry, little wanderer, you can’t interfere,” Draken says with mournful eyes.

“No, that’s not right. No, they can’t allow—”

I don’t get to finish my tirade as a streak of black collides into the side of Kael, sending him skirting across the sand. Lyker’s massive wolf stands protectively in front of Rylan, releasing a growl powerful enough to cause the sand to vibrate like beads of water on a speaker.

Kael stands tall on all four paws and lets out his own dark warning, one that promises retribution before turning his back to Lyker and shifting as he walks to the side of the arena where his Nexus is waiting on the railing with a healer.

Lyker may have just earned favor from the pack for saving Rylan, but he just made himself an even bigger enemy to the Mastery.

Fifteen

Willow

“Are you okay, princess?” Corentin asks as my silence over the last few minutes stretches on.

I’m not okay. I’m mad, madder than mad. I’m fucking livid. How was everyone here just going to let an innocent man die at the hands of that trash, when he was submitting? I understand shifter culture. I’ve poured myself over whatever piece of information Draken or Vince has taught me, and during challenges, even ones like this, you’re supposed to respect submission. If Rylan hadn’t submitted, it’d be different. He’d be signing his own death warrant.

Looking over the arena to where he’s now being healed up, his Primary is throwing herself all over him, tears flowing down her face as she checks every inch of him, and my blood boils even hotter, my eyes growing heavy as I fight back my tears of rage.

I guess I’m a little hypocritical because if I were in my dragon form right now, I’d rip Kael’s head clean off his fucking body regardless if he submitted or not.

“Those are some pretty homicidal thoughts you got going on, little warrior,” Tillman comments, obviously not respecting my private seething.

“No, I’m not okay. I’m pissed. That was bullshit, and no one was going to stop him,” I reply angerly, plopping down in my seat and crossing my arms.

“I understand your anger. He was submitting, and Kael should’ve backed off, but it’s the rules of the Alpha trials. All contenders know what they’re signing up for. There’s no telling how the pack or the others here would’ve reacted if we had stepped in, Willow. It could’ve drawn far more attention to us than we could handle right now. It was far too risky.” Corentin tries to reason, but I don’t want to hear it right now. I just want to stew in my anger.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I was ready to jump over the railing with you,” Oakly says cheerfully, causing a small twitch in my lips.

“She was. We had to hold her back as soon as you took a step. You two look for trouble, I swear.” Ry’s complaining causes a smirk to pull at my lips. We’re barely any trouble.

“We could’ve kicked his ass. I want to rip his head off right now.” I turn to look at Oakly, since she’s the only one on my side.

“Okay, well, I wasn’t going to take it that far, but if that’s what you want to do, I completely support you.” She smiles at me a little warily before laughing.

“If murdering him is what will make you feel better, Primary, we can work something out,” Caspian hums. Glancing over at him, he’s staring at me like he’s about to sweep me off my feet and my face flushes.

Well damn, I guess all I need to do to get his hungry looks is to plan someone’s demise.

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