Page 50 of Roar Letter Word

The king wasn't picking up the rotting scent of Zorrtan, nor the ragged and unfortunate odor of the guards. He was picking up Addie's distinct aroma, that rose water, lush garden swirl.

She was there. He knew it in his heart. He scurried faster with Skoll behind him, finding steps that led into a basement. The light of the moon barely touched the stairway.

Then he saw her. His mate.

She struggled against a pipe she had been tied to, sitting on the cold, gritty ground. She wore the outfit she had changed into for her final song at the concert. Her hair was a tangled mess, the hairspray and bindings having come loose.

Mahes wanted to launch himself against the bars, smash his way through, throw Addie over his shoulder, and race into the sunset. His love was palpable and somewhat distracting.

No, he had to be smart. He had to be cunning. That was the only way they were going to make it out alive.

But then he saw Bruce sitting in a corner like a disappointed child who wasn’t enjoying a beach getaway. He wasn't tied up at all.

Hot vexation pummeled through Mahes’s body. He saw red, and before Skoll could stop him, his fist had collided with the traitor’s unprepared and unclenched cheek. Bruce’s head reverberated off the stone wall, accompanied by the most pitiful squeal.

“You son of a bitch!” Mahes roared. “How dare you betray her.”

Skoll was on him then, holding him back by the shoulders. Bruce groaned like a little piglet, holding his face like he’d been struck by a wrecking ball.

And in a way, he had.

“Mahes?”

Addie’s eyes gleamed through the dim. All of Mahes’s anger melted, his heart going soft for his precious mate. He went to the bars and pulled them apart like a bored child breaking apart pencils.

“Addie …” he breathed.

“We’ve got company, My King …”

Feet trampled down the stairs, switching Mahes into battle mode. Addie continued to struggle with the rope.

He hated what they had done to her. He hated that he hadn’t spoken up against Bruce. He hated that he hadn't protected her enough.

But that was all going to be over. Even if it meant spilling his own blood exponentially, he would do it for her. Anything for Addie.

Skoll moved into action with the king, taking out the men who trotted down the stairs. It was rather easy at first. Most of them were as useless as the guards they had encountered out front. But then the stench came in, wafting like a hurricane and slapping Mahes with its rancid essence.

It was Zorrtan, and he was coming fast. He glanced at Addie, who was staring at him in horror. He began to strip, as did Skoll, ready to take on whatever darkness was approaching.

“I got you,” he said. “Don’t stop fighting.”

“Never,” Addie replied.

He shifted then, his height increasing and shoving against the rock walls and rumbling the entirety of the structure. It wasn’t going to be easy to fight in such a small space, but they had to. Skoll shifted as well, but not before shoving Bruce roughly into the cell that Addie occupied.

Zorrtan steamed down the staircase with one of his lackeys behind him. He was heavily unprepared, which Mahes had counted on. Behind him were more of his foot soldiers, so Mahes let out a sonic roar. It stopped his enemy in their tracks, his nails scraping against the cobblestone ground. It also irked him immensely.

You sneaky bastard!Zorrtan screamed in his mind.I hope you are ready to die in front of your mate!

Zorrtan was an aged shifter who had never given up the fantasy of sitting on the Tellahn throne. It had seasoned him greatly in both spirit and physical form. Mahes pitied him somewhat. But there was no time for any sympathy.

Zorrtan came at Mahes while his lackey went for Skoll. In the king's peripheral vision, he saw Bruce cowering while Addie continued challenging the rope that bound her.

Mahes swiftly ducked out of the way of Zorrtan's charge. Because it wasn't a very long room, Zorrtan nearly head-butted the wall but narrowly grazed it instead, spinning around with the agility of a much younger man. Mahes was impressed for a brief moment, but not before rising onto his back feet and slashing at Zorrtan’s face.

He managed to land a few strikes, the tips of his claws scraping along the white face of his enemy and leaving a few deep lines that bled pink. Zorrtan growled in response and, instead of blundering backward, used his back legs to kick against Mahes’s gut.

It struck the king more than he had anticipated. He was bowled over onto all fours, but only briefly. Zorrtan went for the jugular but missed, his jagged teeth raking across Mahes’s thick mane instead.

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