Page 53 of The Stolen Bride

I didn’t know and wasn’t sure I cared. The words burst from my mouth before I could think better of them.

A fresh smile bloomed over the turul-king’s face. “Oh, sweet Clover. I can kill you, no problem. In fact, I’m eager to. Allow me to prove it.”

Blink. He stood directly in front of me, his fingers wrapped around my wrist, driving my daggerinto the spot beneath my left clavicle. Searing pain exploded inside me, yanking a cry from my deepest depths.

Deco kissed my brow like a father to his daughter. “If I don’t get to witness Viktor’s anguish, I’ll be forced to live forever with regret. A fate I hope to avoid. But. If he’s a no show tomorrow, I’ll just have to ensure the horror of his firebrand’s death is a tale that haunts him for the rest of time. A worthy trade, I think. Ja, a worthy trade indeed.”

“You will pay for this.” I heaved the words between ragged breaths. Blood trickled from the corners of my mouth.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, galamb.”

“Pigeon?” I grated.

He booped my nose with the tip of an index finger, yanked out the dagger and tossed it aside before sauntering off, whistling under his breath. “By the way,” he called. “If you survive, you’re invited to a ball I’m hosting. It’s black tie and lasts until I’m no longer amused by it. Hope to see you there. RSVP if you can.”

My knees buckled, and I dropped. With a hoarse cry, I pulled off my shirt. A Herculean task. Hands trembling, I pressed the material into the wound to staunch the flow of blood. The cold helped. But.

What was I going to do?

Chapter

Fourteen

Rage On! Handling the Heat When Others Can’t

–HOW TO TRAIN YOUR BERSERKER

By Elizabeth “Elle” Darcy-Bruce

Icouldn’t stay here.

My brain screamed,Find Viktor. Yes, yes. Viktor. He was the difference maker, and he was alive. I refused to believe otherwise. Think about it. He’d survived centuries at war with the shifters; a rushing river didn’t have the power to end him. And he wouldn’t abandon me on purpose. He absolutely would not. Even though I’d spoken of running again.

My stomach twisted. What if he hoped to prove a point? Let me wander about on my own until I admitted how desperately I needed him.

No, that wasn’t his style. He liked to keep his “mine” close. There was a greater chance the vargbane root had screwed with his immortality.

Oh no! I’d forgotten about the root. What if he truly had died?

High octane trepidation and sorrow leaked from the cracks in my bottles. Tears welled and dropped, blurring my vision. Sniffling, I wiped my nose with the back of my hand. Even the thought of being without Viktor shredded me.

What are you doing? Enough!There was no reason to borrow trouble. Vik wasn’t dead, and that was that. I would hide and heal, and he would find me. Plan made. As I lumbered to my feet, pain and weakness nearly felled me. With sheer determination, I persevered and reclaimed the dagger.

Hemorrhaging what little strength I possessed at record speed, I stumbled forward. I kept my wadded up shirt pressed into my wound with one hand and clutched my weapon with the other, ready to defend myself from any shifter I stumbled upon.

I crested a hill, my knees almost buckling with relief when I spotted a village. A village meant food, warmth, and maybe even rudimentary medical care.

Kicking up snow behind me, I charged forward as fast as my abused body allowed. Hmm. Frost clung to the cracked, weathered walls of abandoned cottages. A door to a former store creaked on its hinge, ominous in the wintry wind. Its roof was partially caved in under the weight of ice and dead leaves.

Okay, so, this wasn’t the safe space I’d imagined. But maybe that was a good thing. Residents might have gladly turned me over to Deco.

With a tired sigh, I exited the village and plodded forward. A gust of glacial wind hit my face, but the bite didn’t sting quite as much as I expected. Maybe my senses were dulling as I neared death.

A humorless laugh bubbled up.

“What’s so funny, baba?” an unfamiliar voice called.

Ack! Shifter! I scanned ahead. A turul perched high in a tree. He watched me with a wicked grin, his dark hair slicked back, his features sharp. “I’m not your baby,” I grated.

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