Page 61 of A Prize for the Lycan Enemy

He picks up the other end of the heavy instrument and helps me carry it outside. Because we’re too busy and too happy and too full of life, we don’t pay attention to the woods and the fact that none of the males on patrol answered my whistle. They never answered my summons.

“Watch out!” Spence shouts, just before an arrow pierces my back and comes out the front. Shocked, I look down as lycans in werewolf form converge on us. Some engage Spence, the others run for the tavern. None of them attack me.

Dan will do that.

He appears before me, a massive long-haired werewolf twice my size in his warrior form. I try shifting and can’t. Something is wrong. The arrow sticking out of my chest emits smoke, and I smell blood magic burning my lycan magic. I cannot shift and defend myself. Dan has rendered me helpless against his warrior form.

Pissed, I break the arrow off and roar as I jab it into his neck.

Surprised I managed to wound him, he staggers back, then peels back his upper lip and swipes at me.

I skip away, but his long sharp claws catch my chest, tearing my flesh.

Pain makes my breath catch.

Blood spurts out of the deep cuts, and the magic that stops my shift also prevents healing. I must get rid of this arrow, or I’ll die.

“Get this thing out of my back,” I try shouting, but all I manage is a whisper. My lungs are collapsing.

Dan’s swiping his claws against my younger brothers, who rushed out of the tavern while I’m the one who’s staggering down the street like a drunk. The blood magic the arrow delivered into my body makes me weak and stops me from changing.

I make it to the shrine, but my knees fold, and I fall before the door and lean my forehead against it. With the last of my strength, I reach over my shoulder to try to get the arrow shaft, but I can’t reach.

The archer chose wisely. Dan played dirty and won. If he challenged me honestly, he’d lose, so he compromised me first.

The blood magic is depleting me of energy and magic. I can feel my life force draining out of me. This must be the same magic the former Kilseleian king used to drain the savage hordes. There’s no coming back from this.

The arrow starts withdrawing from me as if someone is trying to get it out.

Through the haze that is my mind, I recognize her scent. My mate’s.

“Marybell,” I whisper.

“Shhhh,” she says, “I’ll get the somper out.”

Somper.The arrow soaked in blood magic has a name. Go figure.

Marybell braces her foot on the small of my back and shouts as she uses all her might to yank the arrow out. Instantly, my lycan magic explodes, and I’m back on my feet, hole in my chest and lungs wheezing. In my werewolf form, I’m all fur and teeth. The gaping wound on my chest hurts, but I’ll survive. I’ll survive, and I’ll kill every last one of Dan’s rogues. But first, I must secure my mate.

Furious that she risked her life and came out here for me, I snatch Marybell into my arms and cross the lycan battleground that is my street to put her back inside my house. I can’t speak while I’m in werewolf form, but I point a finger at her and then wag it, hoping she understands I’m telling her not to go outside.

Marybell nods.

She’s afraid.

All the more reason to kill everyone she fears. I lick her face and turn, slamming the door behind me.

Outside, I rear back on my hind legs and howl at the moon, calling all my clan mates far and wide across the territory, alerting them of the massacre Dan is attempting to commit in the main village. He’s winning now. Some of my males are dead from arrows already. I cannot let him win. I won’t let him win.

Even at the cost of my life.

27

MARYBELL

“Oh no. Oh no.” Terrified, I pace the house, listening to the snarling lycan males right outside my door. It brings back memories of when the hordes attacked the Kilseleian palace, and of the medeisar creatures running among us, snatching and tearing us apart.

My hands start shaking, my breath coming in pants.

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