Page 70 of Carmichael's Omega

"You'll never make it in time," she calls out just before I leap past her.

I grab her by her throat. "Spit out everything,bruja."

There is no color left in her face as she whispers. "A wolf will attack your mate. If you kill this witch, I'll transport you south, to the very room you need to be in. You'll be in time to stop it."

"How do I know this isn't some trick?" I ask her.

She looks into my eyes. "You can't afford to risk it," she says. "Your mate can't afford it. An assault means destruction for a delicate soul."

I drop her, and she sucks in a deep breath. My wolf howls and scratches at the ground. He wants Cassidy. Now. She's in danger. Panic rides us hard.

"Where is this witch?"

"Just over in the next clearing. She's creating an incantation and will be distracted. Rip off her head and tear out her heart. That is the only way to kill her. Do you agree to this?"

The bloodlust stirs. "Si," I tell her.

She nods, her face grim and severe. "I will go first. She is expecting me. Fight through the protections, the wards. It won't be easy, but you are an alpha. You are the only wolf who can do this."

I follow the bruja and almost immediately feel the wards. I'm trapped in a nightmare mere seconds later. My limbs feel frozen, my body sluggish, even as my mind races. My alpha-wolf screams at the feeling of moving through air as thick as tar.

I can hear the whitebrujaspeak first. "I have brought the herbs, sister," she calls out. She carries something to the fire pit in the center of the clearing. Her limbs move freely, quickly, while I feel as though the very air around me is fighting my every breath.

"You're late," comes the raspy voice of pure malevolence. "Every day, that abomination grows stronger. She will ruin everything, and yet you dilly-dally, Amaryth."

I don't hear the whitebruja'sresponse. The other witch catches my attention. My prey.

She is an evil thing. I think I would've killed her even if I hadn't made a deal with the whitebruja. A putrid, festering rot simmers in the air, grows on her skin like a fungus. The smell is rank enough to make my wolf shake his head in horror. Her hooked nose shines from the effort of whatever spell she is casting. Stringy, filthy hair lays in clumps on her shoulders. As she breathes, the morbid necklace of dried finger bones hanging on her chest rattle.

Her voice... I could go the rest of my life without hearing it again and be thankful.¡Chale!

The whitebrujatosses the herbs into the fire, and the evil witch's attention is caught by whatever sinister plot she's hatching. Her eyes roll in the back of her head. Grey-white globes with red lines from ruptured blood vessels sit bulging in their sockets.

Her voice continues as my heart pounds. I take a painful step, another. I need to silence that voice. It's like a thousand needles being plunged into my ears. I wish I could just hear Cassidy's soothing-sweet voice.

Cassidy.

My limbs move. As long as I think of my female, my good girl's smile and scent, I can fight the thick fog in the air. It still feels like hours before I reach the witch. There is no hesitation before my wolf sinks his teeth into the side of her neck. Foul blood erupts on our tongue, but our rage pushes us to bite harder, to rip and tear until her head rolls on her shoulders, the eyes spinning to the sky.

Violently we shake her by her neck until muscle and bone tear apart. Her hands scrabble at our fur, the long, claw-like nails sinking in, trying to find the vulnerable flesh beneath. Even when we severe her spinal cord, her hands move with purpose.

Her head goes flying, landing with a wet thunk nearby. The hands are twitching, less certain, but her heart... We can hear her heart. Blood is oozing slowly from the stub of ner neck, black and viscous. Unnatural. And still, her heart thuds. Alive.

Standing on her chest, we dig with our paws, deeper and deeper. Cracking ribs and stamping our forepaws on her, we don't stop until we find her blackened, evil heart.

With one last bite, we tear the nasty thing from her chest. Tilting our head back, we howl our triumph.

The whitebrujastands at the edge of the clearing; a small, wooden barrel tucked in her hands. When our howl of victory fades from the sky, she hurries toward the head of the witch. Picking it up, she places it, hair-down, into the barrel. Liquid sloshed around, hissing steam rising from whatever now soaks the head. She then picks up the heart at our feet with shaking hands and tosses it into the fire. It blackens and smokes. There is nothing ordinary about it.

I shift back to feet. She stares at me, at the blood and flesh coating every inch of my chest, my arms. It drips from my mouth and coats my teeth.

"The portal is ready for you. Do you... do you want to wash first?"

"Is my mate in danger?" my voice is deep, raspy, dark. I want my female.

"Yes."

"Now?"

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