Page 24 of The Alpha's Pregnant Mate

There would be time to wonder about how any of this was possible later. Right now, Rhietta’s life was in danger. And he’d kill a thousand fiery demons with his bare hands if that was what it took to keep her safe.

The beast was determined to make its way towards the tree line, that much became quickly clear. It threw its awful limbs towards the wolves attacking it occasionally, but it was with the distracted, impatient energy of someone swatting at a fly rather than a concerted effort to do them harm. He could feel Rhietta’s worry matching his own as the beast made steady progress toward the trees. Neither of them wanted to risk those scorching, unearthly flames getting anywhere near that thick vegetation. They’d both seen what those flames could do.

They redoubled their efforts, both breathing hard as they dove at the monster again and again, tearing wound after wound in its flesh. But he could tell that they were running out of time. It was impossible to judge how long it would be until this war of attrition had some kind of effect on the monster, and all the while it was creeping closer to the trees. He heard Rhietta utter a yelp of shock, and he spun toward her, terrified that she’d been struck while he was distracted. The relief he felt to see her unhurt was quickly tempered by horror when he realized what had startled her.

The tree line was absolutely full of demons. It was as though they’d all gathered to watch some kind of show, crowded into every single space that they could fit…but not a single one of them seemed willing to cross the invisible line that divided the jungle from the clearing. Hundreds of dull, glinting red eyes were fixed on their every move, and he could sense an awful hunger emanating from them, a dumb, bloodthirsty hum that threatened to choke him with despair. Even if they were able to take down the flame-crowned beast before them, there was no way that two wolves could take on an army the size of the one that surrounded them.

And in that moment, he knew what he needed to do.

He heard Rhietta’s hoarse bark of surprise and dismay when he shifted, steadying himself quickly on his two legs. Her concern was understandable—wolves were much more vulnerable in their human shape, and in a battle like this one against such an oversized foe, it was hardly worth the trade-off of being able to wield a blade. But though he could feel his longsword strapped to his back, it was a much smaller blade he reached for. His ceremonial dagger, feeling woefully small when he compared it to the bulk of the great monster before them.

But for the first time, he seemed to have gotten the creature’s full attention. It seemed to freeze in place, its body shuddering oddly as if it was scenting the air…and then it turned, seemingly oblivious to Rhietta, who was biting and tearing at one of its misshapen limbs with all her might in a desperate effort to distract its attention from Laurent. He felt his heart swell with love for her, admiration for her courage, and desperate, overwhelming gratitude that even after everything he’d done, she’d still found it in her heart to come and find him, to save him.

He would go to his grave grateful to have seen her one last time…and proud to have given his life to save hers and her child’s. A worthy trade, as far as he was concerned.

Laurent stood his ground as the demon uttered a high, unearthly scream that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. The flames atop the thing that might have been its head seemed to be larger now, burning not brighter, but somehow more densely. It moved closer, agonizingly slowly, and he could already feel the blistering heat emanating from those flames. He steadied his breathing, lifted the blade, squeezed the rune-engraved hilt until he felt the patterns pressing into his skin.

“Come on,” he whispered, narrowing his eyes against the scorching heat. “Just a little closer…”

“Laurent!”

No demon could have stopped him from turning at the sound of that cry, raw and desperate. Rhietta was standing there, barely ten feet away—she must have moved in closer before she’d shifted. Her sword was already in her hand, but her gaze was fixed on Laurent, not the demon. Those shining silver eyes were so full of feeling it took his breath away. It could only have been a fraction of a second that they looked at each other, but somehow it felt like much, much longer. Some near-death trick of adrenaline, perhaps, or a gift from fate itself…just enough time for Laurent to realize what a tremendously stupid idea he was still clinging to.

Rhietta didn’t need him to die for her. She needed him to live.

And with that revelation still burning in him, wilder than any demon’s flame could be, the blade in his hand ignited with a light brighter than any he’d been able to draw from it before. And when he plunged it through the demon’s skull, he wasn’t sure if it was the blade or the light that did the most damage. Whatever the cause, the weapon carved through the creature’s horrific excuse for a head with less resistance than the air itself. The burning pain in his hand lasted less than a second, the dark flames that wreathed the beast’s head vanishing the moment the blade touched it. It didn’t even have time to utter a sound; silent and insensate, the remains of its body slumped to the rock. Laurent’s hand was shaking as he withdrew his gleaming blade, and the light that poured from it illuminated the clearing. For one long moment, everything was lit up as brightly as though it were midday-and Rhietta whooped with shock and delight as every demon that had been spectating from the tree line was turned to ash where they stood.

And then, just as quickly, the light was gone, and his weapon was a simple dagger again. Surprised by how steady his hand seemed to be, Laurent slid the dagger carefully back into his belt. Then, as his vision readjusted to the darkness, he blinked down at the remains of the monster before him.

“Make sure it’s dead.” Rhietta’s voice cut across the gathering silence, startling his body into action before his mind had a chance to catch up. He dropped to his knees beside the creature, seeing Rhietta move around to its other side to make the same checks he was. Smart, he thought faintly. How many times had he cautioned a young warrior not to rely on the seeming obviousness of a death blow? They had a dreadful habit of surviving what seemed like decapitations or dismemberments, striking with unnatural power despite having their bodies torn apart.

But this demon was well and truly vanquished. Even as he prodded at the beast’s rubbery flesh with the tip of his dagger, he saw it beginning to dissolve. Dead demons decomposed rapidly, and it seemed this one was no exception—though he noticed that the dry, powdery substance that was sloughing off its body had a lot more in common with pale ash than the usual black, gritty dirt.

“Fascinating,” he said aloud, wishing there was some way he could preserve a piece of it for further study, knowing from long and frustrating experience that it was a fool’s errand to try. Then he heard a snort of laughter, and looked up to see Rhietta crouched on her haunches with one hand covering her mouth, her silver eyes dancing with suppressed mirth.

And despite the severity of the situation—the half-healed wounds all over his body, the way his limbs were trembling with exhaustion, the knowledge that he’d just come very close to getting Rhietta killed—Laurent found his back stiffening, his lips pressing into a scowl. Far from silencing the infuriating girl’s laughter, this only seemed to make the problem worse. She gasped for breath as she overbalanced and sprawled onto the rock, abandoning even the pretense of trying to cover her laughter. He stood like a great stone monolith while she laughed at him, unable to find it in his heart to feel anything but an overwhelming gratitude that she was alive. He was very surprised to find that it was accompanied by a second wave of gratitude, subtler than the first, but woven into it like a thread through a tapestry; Laurent was grateful that he, too, was alive. It was a pleasant feeling…and one he hadn’t felt for quite some time.

Eventually, Rhietta’s gales of laughter began to ease, giving way to occasional flurries of exhausted giggles as she slowly regained her breath. His solemnly intoned “If you’re quite finished—” set her off again for a moment, but eventually the quiet of the night crept back into the space between them, and they were able to simply regard each other. Laurent could feel a thousand apologies rising up, the sheer weight of them blocking his throat, choking him, threatening to drown him before he could rasp out a single syllable.

Rhietta rose to her feet in a smooth, graceful movement, her eyes still trained on his face. The smile had faded from her lips, but there was still something about her expression, somehow, that spoke of sympathy, of understanding. As a cool breeze blew, picking up some of the demon’s ashy remains, she glanced around the clearing, wrinkling her nose with unspoken distaste. He nodded. And wordlessly, letting the silence hold the two of them in its comforting embrace, the two of them walked side by side out of the clearing and into the trees at its northernmost edge.

He had no idea where he was going, having been disoriented by the battle with the demon; later, Rhietta would admit that she, too, had had no idea where they were. Still, something made him keep walking, and before too long they emerged from the tree line and found themselves confronted by a dazzling view. In the depths of the jungle, he’d managed to forget that they were on an island, and that the low, dull roar he occasionally heard through the trees came not from some demon or other, but from the ocean.

The cliff ahead of them plunged straight down into the water below, where waves dashed themselves repetitively against the rock. There was a fallen tree a few feet from the edge, looking for all the world like the log the two of them had always sat on for their daily meetings. The memory seemed to be coming to him from a great distance away, but when he glanced sideways at Rhietta, he could see a smile of recognition curving her pretty lips, and suddenly the past felt a lot closer than it had been. They sat together on the log, and for a long time, they both looked at the ocean instead of each other. Laurent’s body ached from the battle, and he could tell the demon’s flame had burned him in more than a few places. He was hungry, and impossibly weary from his weeks in the wild. And yet somehow, he’d never felt better than he did in that simple moment, gazing out over the ocean with a beautiful woman sitting still and quiet by his side.

It was Rhietta that broke the silence, in the end. He’d been trying to work his way through his long list of apologies, to enact some kind of triage on them, decide which ones were the highest priority and which ones he could get away with delaying.

“I should have told you,” she said simply. Yet again, he felt disoriented, thrown off his rhythm. The tangle of indecision, at least, had been temporarily banished.

“I can’t fault you,” he said, realizing as his voice rasped from disuse just how long it had been since he’d spoken aloud. “I gave you no reason to think me capable of receiving any kind of news without hurting you.”

“True,” she acknowledged, shooting him a sidelong glance. “But if you’d walked into the jungle after I’d told you in person, I could’ve spear-tackled you before you got too far.” He was surprised to feel himself smiling—a weak smile, but a smile nonetheless. Part of him had given up on the idea of ever smiling again. “So you know, then.”

“Yes.”

“Just from stitching up my leg?” The horrified fascination in her voice made him feel tempted, just for a moment, to agree without elaboration. But the urge passed, and he shook his head.

“Afterwards. When I was checking for any other wounds. It seemed odd that a wound like that alone was enough to make you lose consciousness.”

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