Page 89 of Feral Guardian
But I do have enough for claws.
I morph my nails into deadly weapons and rake my hand down Trask’s face.
“Bitch!” he shouts and rears back.
I scramble to my hands and knees, trying to escape him.
“You’re not fucking worth it,” he snarls behind me. “Fuck it. I’ll just take the queen’s bounty.”
Cold steel digs into my throat, but before it can cut, Alastair’s bellow of fury splits the air.
Trask goes still. “I’ll spill her royal blood all over this forest if you take one more step, Brunay!”
Alastair stands thirty feet away, his form so changed I barely recognize him. The runes carved into his body pulse red. The horns protruding from his forehead are haloed by his power, and his eyes glow like garnets against the darkening sky.
He’s absolutely stunning.
Trask yanks me up, pulling my back against his chest as he wraps his arm more tightly around my shoulder. The knife breaks my skin and a bead of warm blood trickles down to my shirt. Alastair growls and a billow of steam pours from his mouth, highlighted red by his magic.
“I swear by all the gods, you will not get to her in time,” Trask says.
How the fuck had I trusted that he was going to help me?
There’s still enough magic in me for a few more small tricks.
I transform the spare bone in my shoulder to a spike and expand its size, lancing it straight into the meat of Trask’s knife arm. He howls in pain, but when he tries to pull back, I hook into him, tearing the muscle further.
He blinks away from me in a puff of navy blue. Alastair’s hands glow a malevolent crimson as he rune-writes midair, creating a shield in a sphere around Trask where he lands. The wretch tries to use his magic to escape the cage, but Alastair is prepared for it. He weaves inverted Juuren’s strength, then follows it with a punishing Vexune’s greed, rending Trask’s magic useless within the field.
But Alastair must continue to channel this spell to maintain the sphere, and he knows it. He’d seen me cast it to protect myself from him.
It’s up to me.
Trask pulls his rapier and drags it along the bubble of red, creating a ripple across the shield. His blade is urictsa, and I know a few more slashes will rip Alastair’s magic wide open. I circle behind Trask and reach out for what little power I have left. It’s just enough for one more transfiguration.
My claws lengthen, sharpen, and then I lunge. Trask slashes through the barrier and it falls. Blue smoke crawls up his arms as he looks over his shoulder, searching for his escape route. His eyes fall on me and widen as he realizes it’s already too late.
I slam into him, burying my talons in his throat. There’s a sickeningsnap-crunchas I close my fist and pull. Trask flails, trying to hit me, but Alastair is there in a flash. He grabs Trask’s sword arm in one hand and rends his stomach with the other, spilling his guts out over his fancy boots.
My rage is not yet sated, and I rake my claws across his throat to his back, then down his spine. Trask falls forward and Alastair catches him, holding his arms akimbo.
Alastair’s eyes are locked on mine and he leans closer to Trask. “My princess is worth it. She iseverything.”
Then, just as easily as a man might break bread, Alastair breaks Trask. His left arm pulls away from his body with a loud rip and a weak spray of blood spills from his side. I’m sure Trask is silently screaming, if he’s still conscious. Gods, I hope he is.
That fuckdruggedme and tried to kill me. Twice.
Alastair grabs my would-be assassin by the shoulder, his eyes never leaving mine, and rips off Trask’s other arm. Then, with a squeeze of his fist, he pops Trask’s head from his body. I step back as I watch the carnage unfold with sick enjoyment.
Alastair’s biceps and pecs flex as he yanks off one leg, then steps on the last one before pulling Trask’s spine in half. The man lays in six pieces, his blood decorating us both.
“You can’t leave.” Alastair’s eyes dance with possessive fire. “You’remine, Lilianna.”
I shudder, taking another step away. “I’m not going back to the palace.”
“You. Will. Be. Queen.” He takes a step closer with every word, closing the distance between us.
“I don’t want it! And you can’t make me,” I declare.
