Page 155 of The Wolf and the Chimera
Sobs racked my body. Everything I had done—everything I had sacrificed—was for nothing.
Now, when it mattered most, I was powerless.
Chapter Forty-Two
Ryder
Blood slicked my skin and burned my eyes. Every breath I took stretched the wounds that snaked across my ribs, where Lyall had mutilated the flesh into something unrecognizable. I couldn't bear my full weight on one of my ankles. I barely felt the pain. Though I stood on humanoid feet, my mind was a blur of predatory instincts.
Swipe, dodge, kick, crouch…
Lyall’s assault was incessant. Only minutes into our brawl, I had realized he toyed with me. Though I couldn't summon my dominance, Lyall’s hung in the air like a thunderous cloud. It raised the hair on my arms, and inescapable pressure burrowed in my chest.
Lyall kicked, but I pivoted, and the blow landed on the thick part of my thigh. His claws came next, wickedly fast, but I blocked the attacks and skirted to the side. Like a shark who sensed blood, Lyall chased me. His teeth were a flash of white on his blood-stained face.
“I’m going to end you,” Lyall promised. His words were garbled by his wolfish teeth and elongated jaw.
“What about your other son?” I asked and winced at the breathlessness in my voice. “What about the power transfer?”
Lyall snarled and made a reckless punch. I avoided the blow then used his momentum against him and shoved theSovereign into the wall. Growling, he rebounded, and our lethal dance continued.
“I hate to admit it,” Lyall said evenly.
How is hestillnot tiring?
“But that plan was wrong,” Lyall continued. “The solution was never to transferyourpower to Kieran. I simply need another son as an Heir.”
He landed a blow to my side and laughed like a mad man.
“I don’t need you, Ryder Blake,” he whispered quietly enough for only me to hear, “so I’m going to enjoy killing you.”
Lyall showed me just how much he had been holding back.
His assault came at me so quickly, I only deflected half the blows. He fought with fists instead of claws. Every brutal strike only fueled his bloodlust. My rib cracked under the force of his punches, and I sucked in a harsh, painful breath. Lyall pounced on the moment of weakness and laid into my jaw, which popped so loudly, my ears rang.
Though my mate beat against the forcefield of ancient pack magic that shielded Lyall and I from interference, the magic held strong. None of the traditional rules or rituals of a challenge had been laid out, but the pack magic had snapped into place as soon as Lyall and I rejected any outsiders from our fight.
And now, my mate—my beautiful, loving mate—would watch me die.
“After you’re gone,” Lyall taunted, “she’ll probably beg for Entombment.”
“Wrong,” I rasped. Forming the words ached, but I wouldn’t die whimpering. “You’re wrong. She is stronger than you think.”
I blocked a swing of his fist to my head, only for him to slam his foot on my injured ankle. The breath fled from my lungs, and my broken ribs burned. Dark spots swirled in my vision. The world tilted, and Lyall caught me by my throat. He pulled me close, and his breath heated my face.
“It’s her power,” he whispered in a deadly soft voice. “It’sherpower running through my veins, giving me thisgloriousstrength.”
He pulled me even closer, until all I saw was the madness and magic in his unnaturally bright gaze. Even for a wolf, his eyes glowed with strange light.
“It’s your mate's power that will help me kill you,” he promised.
Through the haze of pain and fear, his words stirred primal anger. The thought of any part of Elle—her magic, her light—being part ofhimwas repulsive. Elle had only recently grown to love her power. She would never forgive herself if her gifts—stolen or not—killed me.
I wouldn’t let him do this.
I wouldn’t let him break her.
Enough,I thought.You bastards have stolen enough from her.
