Page 72 of Wolf Marked

“We beat the curse just to possibly die again?” he teased. “Seems unfair, don’t youthink?”

“You said you wanted to die on your own terms, right?” she said.

He lifted an eyebrow, impressed. “That’s right, but I don’t plan on it happening anytime soon.”

“Good. Me neither.”

The air around them sparked with electricity as they both started to shift. Like lightning, the power rocketed through every muscle and nerve. Even as Astrid’s body realigned and reformed its shape, there was no pain, just a feeling of absolute serenity and completeness. Now on four legs, the rain began to fall harder, pelting her back and turning the piles of snow around them into muddy slush.

Shaking out her fur, she faced Erec’s golden wolf form and nodded toward the river. He snorted in acknowledgment and took as much of the clothing as he could in his mouth.

Astrid went over to her spear, placed it securely between her jaws, and braced herself for the jump. Erec was by her side the next second, matching her movements. Wasting no more time, they ran full speed toward the riverbank and launched themselves over the icy depths, ready for whatever it was that lay ahead.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The scent of blood rode heavy on the wind and the sound of metal clashing rang out in the distance. The deeper into the forest they traveled, the more intense the stench and noises became, reminding Astrid that they were about to enter a war.

When they came upon the cage on the outskirts of Jerrick’s camp, they stopped. The grunts of man and ferocious snarls of wolf echoed over the drumming rain. Angry shadows flashed just beyond the trees.

The power of the shift pushed through her muscles again, and within seconds, she stood on two feet. Erec dropped the pile of clothing by her feet, and she dressed quickly. After pulling on her boots, she tied her mass of red hair away from her face.

Still a golden wolf, Erec pressed against her legs and stared at her. She guessed this was his way of telling her he would be going into battle in this form since he couldn’t speak, and having seen his raw power and skill while fighting Claus as a wolf, it was a good idea. As for her, she was more comfortable with her spear in her hand.

She picked up her weapon and looked over the staff’s intricate carvings and beautiful stone tip. Was she ready to finally face the man who had killed so many innocent people and was responsible for what had been done to her brother? Was she ready to willingly walk into the fire and risk her life to stop the monster who had almost destroyed her and Erec’s lives?

She gritted her teeth, the answer to her questions coming in the forms of fierce determination and certainty. Not fear. Not worry. She’d been through too much in these last few weeks not to be ready now. Death had been a close reality for her only minutes ago.

Jerrick didn’t scare her anymore. He couldn’t.

Astrid gripped her spear. This ended right here. Tonight.

“Let’s finish this,” she said confidently, and gave Erec a stiff nod.

He snorted in agreement, then bounded through the trees, toward the commotion ahead. She followed close to his heels, heart pounding.

The second they burst into the campsite, they were thrown into mass chaos. Men, women, and wolves fought with fists, blades, and teeth. There were cries of pain, shouts of victory, and the constant pound of rain against the ground.

And blood. So much blood.

It painted whatever was left of the snow a dark red. Here, the air was so thick with the scent of it, Astrid tasted the metallic tang on her tongue strong enough to make her gag.

Erec wasted no time and leaped onto another wolf’s back, tearing into his neck. More blood spurted, and Astrid choked back bile. Henrick was close by, yelling a battle cry and swiping his sword at two more fearsome-looking beasts who were trying to close in on him.

She tried to find her father among the brawling warriors, but the rain was falling too hard to see anything beyond a few feet besides shadowy figures. She attempted to reach out across the pack bond, but the connection was congested with the overwhelming emotions of her fellow fighters. Pain, fear, rage, delight—she felt it all. But none specific to her father’s aura.

An unseen force struck her from the side so swiftly and suddenly, she was flying off her feet before she realized what had happened. She hit the ground with an audible thud, her shoulder getting the brunt of the fall. All the breath left her lungs, and she grunted as pain shot through her arm. A flash of silver caught her eye, and she rolled just as the blade of an axe struck the wood of a stump dangerously close to her head. Pulse thundering against her eardrums, she stared at her distorted reflection in the weapon’s shiny face.

She scrambled up to see a round, grubby-looking man about to reach for the axe’s handle again. Kicking out, the sole of her boot met the cap of his knee. There was a gross popping sound, and he collapsed, clasping his leg and cursing her loudly. Taking the opportunity to jump to her feet, she grasped her spear and stabbed him in the center of the chest. The blade pierced the skin, muscle, and bone too easily, like a heated branding stake slicing through ice. It was equally as effortless pulling it out as well.

She shivered.

Movement zipped past her left. She jerked around as a silver blur charged her. The wolf leaped into the air, jaws aimed for her throat. She threw herself sideways, twistingand spinning her weapon. The tip sliced through skin and tissue midair, and when the beast hit the ground, its momentum sent it forward still, launching it into the base of a tree. White bone peeked through the slash down its chest, and crimson blood poured.

The bright spark of lightning ignited the camp in white light, momentarily breaking the blueness from the moon. Soon after, thunder cracked strong enough to shake the ground at her feet. The rain was relentless. It soaked every inch of her, but adrenaline raced through her bloodstream, shaking off the cold.

She rushed into a crowd of brawling figures, dodging blows and dirty, reaching fingers and slashing the spear at anyone who came close. At the center of the mass was Dana and another woman warrior from the prisoner group with a mess of brown hair. One of Dana’s eyes was badly blackened and the other had blood sliding down her arm from a severed finger, but both females were fighting with everything they had. And from the look of the number of dead foes at their feet, both wolf and human, they had been holding well for themselves for quite a while.

The brunette dropped to the ground and shifted shape, her clothes ripping at the seams. Covered in brown fur, she snarled and ripped into the hind leg of an enemy wolf that had been getting too close to Dana’s back.

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