Page 79 of Owning His Mate

“You’re so beautiful to me,” he says and my heart swells.

I try not to think about it, but there is a chance we might die in this fight, and that makes me bold.

“I love you,” I blurt out. I need him to know that in case anything happens to me.

He freezes, and through the bond, I feel his shock. It is hardly surprising, considering how against this bond I was at first. I still feel the clutches of guilt for making him doubt at all.

“I love you more,” he says, and I finally feel whole for the first time in my life.

Chapter 19

Apryle

As soon as I open my eyes, I know I’m dreamwalking. It’s been a while since I last fell into someone else’s subconsciousness, but there are telltale signs that hint I’m in someone else’s dream.

The first is that everything seems hazy and the colors are colder than they would be in real life. There’s also the smell. A hint of rotten eggs, a sulfuric burn in the back of my nose.

I glance around the trees that surround me, thick foliage turning brown, suggesting it’s fall, but there are no landmarks to tell me where I am.

As I walk across the leaf-strewn forest floor, I listen, attempting to pick out anything useful. A sound pricks my ears. My wolf side may be weak, but my senses are still sharp, so I strain to hear where it’s coming from and start in that direction.

Picking my way over fallen branches, I reach the edge of the tree line, which opens out onto a field. My eyes are drawn upward to the huge snow-topped mountainous peaks that overlook the shimmering dark water of an enormous lake. Nothing about this landscape is familiar, particularly the A-shaped frames of the buildings gathered around an impressive-looking structure in the center. The smell of fire burning tickles my nose, as well as other smells I can’t pinpoint.

None of it is pleasant.

This is not our time…

That thought floats across my mind just as two young children run out of one of the small buildings. They are dressed in dark woolen clothes, their hair braided, and there’s dirt smeared across their faces.

They run past me, as if they don’t see me, and I follow in the same direction.

I barely take ten steps before a scream has my entire body freezing. Movement through the buildings has me picking up my pace as more people dressed the same way as the children start to appear. Some carry axes and swords, while others are unarmed. The clothes are not modern.

As I follow the crowd around the edge of the huge building, there’s a platform ahead.

Where the hell am I, and whose dream is this?

People chatter around me, the inflection in their tone excited, but whatever they’re saying isn’t English.

The crowd bubbles together, eventually coming to a stop, and I peer through the throng of bodies to see a man dressed in heavy furs climb the steps onto the platform.

He has flaming red hair and a huge wild beard. I don’t need him to say a word to know this man is dangerous. The way he holds himself with so much confidence and arrogance tells me everything I need to know.

My gaze bounces around, trying to understand what is about to happen, and I hold my breath as the tension rockets into the stratosphere.

The jeers start from the far side of the crowd. I roll onto my tiptoes and glimpse a figure being dragged by two hulking men. My heart leaps into my throat at first as her head bobs to herchest, her long hair trailing to curtain her face. She’s so slight it would be easy to mistake her for a child but for the swell of her belly pressing against her clothes—an unmistakable baby bump.

I watch as they drag her onto the platform and tie her to a post I hadn’t noticed before. Her dress is torn down the back to reveal the bony nodules of her spine, and an unpleasant feeling spreads through my stomach.

The crowd becomes loud and excited as the man raises his hands, calling for silence. His words are rough and harsh, but I can’t understand anything he’s saying.

My gaze moves to the woman, who is gripping the pole she’s tied to. She doesn’t move, but I feel it. Her power. She’s like me, but… different. She’s not tau. I don’t sense wolf in her, just witch.

Her stomach looks bigger the way she’s positioned, and I don’t understand. Why doesn’t she use her magic to save herself from whatever is about to happen? But she doesn’t move, not even when the man is handed a savage whip. There are barbs on the end of each strand, and he cracks it against her bare back.

The crowd roars, but bile collects in the back of my throat. Blood pours down her sides as welts open on her skin.

This is barbaric.

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