Page 67 of Rejected Mate

I looked at the sizzling metal balls, then at my hands.

“Wren, no.” Ares took a step forward, but William held him back with a hand on his chest. The look he gave Ares held decades of manipulation inside it, I could tell.

Ares stared at me with pleading eyes, but I couldn’t back down. Not with every coven and pack watching. Not with such a prize on the line. How would my sick grandfather feel if I had the chance to see him and I said no thanks? How could I look my family in the eyes if he… died, and I never made it home?

Stiffly, I walked to where the metal balls were throwing off heat and charring the stones beneath them. Several were now glowing red hot at the bottom. Fear twisted in my gut, but I didn’t let it show on my face.

Laurel walked over and stood beside me. If she was afraid, she wasn’t letting it show either. The same could not be said for Loba or Nanette, the only others who didn’t back out. They appeared terrified. It seemed Laurel was not the kind to suffer alone and had managed to intimidate them into participating.

“Excellent,” William said. “We have four very brave ladies. Agreeing to the task makes it clear you are the type of individual we need going forward, but the one who actually completes it will be the real prize.”

“What are the rules?” I said, wanting to get this over with and dreading what came next all at the same time.

“You must carry the ball to the end of the field and cross the finish line. You cannot kick the ball, you cannot roll the ball. You must carry the ball the entire time.”

Loba’s shoulders slumped. It seemed she’d been planning on using one of those techniques.

“No one can help you carry the ball. You must do it on your own. You cannot shift until the ball is successfully past the goal. No healing in between.”

They’d really thought of everything, hadn’t they? William was a sadistic bastard.

“The first one to cross following these rules wins. Are you ready?”

No, I definitely was not, but delaying the pain would not make it any less. I stared at the ball, trying to figure out if there was any way to avoid it searing off my skin.

“All right. On your mark. Get set. Go!”

A blast sounded.

I reached for my ball.

The searing hot metal burned against my flesh as I lifted it and started running. The pain was torture. My burning skin screamed at me to drop the ball, but I’d only made it a few feet. I gritted my teeth and kept running while, behind me, someone cried out in anguish.

The pain grew and grew. Agony throbbed from my hands up my arms, blotting out all thought. My skin was blistering. I could feel it. Both hands felt like they were on fire. I panted and stumbled over the grass until I couldn’t take it anymore. I dropped the ball, lifted my hands up, and stared in horror at the damage.

The flesh had bubbled and blistered. Several angry red welts had popped and were oozing.

“Oh gods,” I moaned, staring at my ruined hands.

I wasn’t even halfway, and I was ready to faint, which I might have if Ares hadn’t appeared on the sidelines.

“Laurel is coming. She’s the one screaming behind you. If you stand there much longer, she will overtake you. I know you want to see your grandfather. This is your chance.”

I blinked, trying to focus on what Ares was saying. Laurel was coming. If I wanted to win, I had to pick up the ball.

“Take off your jacket and wrap it around your hands. He didn’t say anything about that in the rules.” He pointed at the zip-up I was wearing. It seemed my desire to cover myself might finally pay off. If only I had thought of it sooner.

“Hurry,” Ares pleaded, glancing back at Laurel.

My hands screaming in pain, I fumbled with stiff, blistered fingers to unzip my jacket and pull it off. Every movement was agony, but I finally got it off.

“Good,” Ares said, “now, find the part of the ball that was at the top. It should be cooler. You’ll want to grip it there.”

Through the pain, I heard him. He was helping me win. And it was working. I used the back of my throbbing hand to find the part on the ball that had been at the top. It was, indeed, cooler than the part where the coals had pooled.

But my hands were a mess. I could barely wrap the jacket around them, let alone use them to pick up the ball. Tears streamed down my face as the pain and anguish threatened to take me under.

So. Much. Pain.

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