The Wolf and the Maiden

Chapter 10

An undeniable threat lingered on the hill just half a mile away; three green-robed figures sitting lofty on their horses like a blight on the horizon. This should have devoured Rían’s complete attention. The Karanlık were just a cautionary tale of King Joel--- a boogeyman of Socius Esmond. Yet now, here they were in the flesh, their true existence finally realized.

Yet, he didn’t give a shít.

And even as Brett hastily ordered the others around, demanding that the highwaymen corpses be tossed into the bonfire that still licked the sky with heat and smoke, and that the dead courtiers of Castellan Tatiane be thrown into the carriage for transport, Rían had yet to move. Amid the hustle of his fellow Kingsmen, he was still on his knees, his fingers still gripping around the beaten woman’s hand, his eyes still staring down at her, wondering what hell was torturing his chest.

As if some sort of a bubble had cocooned him and her – whoever she was— with everything else rushing by all around them, time seemed slower where he sat, now cradling her head in his lap. Her pain is my pain- his beast writhed behind the anxious pulse pounding inside him, causing the surrounding bustle to mute as if his ears were stuffed with cotton, and the only sound he detected were her shallow gasps. Each wheeze that passed her lips strangled him. Her ache is my own.

With a menacing growl, Rían fisted the cuffs that bound her, his knuckles white as he squeezed the metal’s clasp as he tried to rip them off her wrists. But as he did, the etchings in the iron heated white, taunting him of their strength, forbidding her freedom. Frustrated, he clasped the chain that looped between the shackles, grunting as he crushed it until it severed. Although he couldn’t get the damn cuffs off her wrists, at least she had a small semblance of freedom.

Even though he liberated her, she fell back into his captivity, her shaking hands quickly finding his again, desperately clinging onto him. “Thank—” her gurgled voice strained, failing to finish whatever she had been planning to say. Even as harsh and forced as it was, even with that singular word, Rían was caught between awe and angst; hearing her voice spiked his blood, yet his gut clenched with her struggle, wrenching to see her so broken. The milling unease caught in his throat, making it hard to breathe.

Angry, his beast riled inside him, each heartbeat feeling as though it was trying to pound and claw its way out. It wanted revenge, wanted to find that abuser again and rip his limbs from his body, not at all satisfied that his corpse was already melting in the fire behind him.

Why am I feeling this way? As he searched her battered face for answers, his eyes slowly widened, his breath hitching with understanding.

What if…

Looking down at their joined hands, he tenderly squeezed hers a bit more, anxious to feel the shivers of the mate-bond’s scânteie. When nothing happened, Rían reached up and touched the section of her face that had been spared of any beating, running his finger along the soft skin. His brows furrowed when he felt nothing again. After he dipped his nose in close to her throat, inhaling and smelling nothing more than blood and smoke, the scowl deepened, confused.

Nothing?

But, why…

“Rían!” Within a few disoriented blinks of his eyes, he realized Rory was in front of him, his hands gripped onto his shoulders, repeatedly screaming his name in his face. And just like that, the world around him jumped to life again. When he finally locked onto his brother, coherency hit him hard, especially with the pounding hooves of the incoming Karanlık. “They’re coming!” His words doused him like cold water. Rían’s head snapped to look around his brother, assessing what he had failed to focus on earlier.

Bundling the woman against him, not caring that her blood smeared across his chest as he nestled her in close, Rían sprung to his feet just as the three horsemen reined their stallions to a standstill a few yards away. With heavy, deep hoods concealing a good portion of their faces, it was hard to see them, yet the fact that there was a female among them was evident with the long, thick brown braid that hung down one side of her bosomed chest.

Brett took post, standing in between them and the riders. For a brief second, his eyes swept over their stalwart forms before he spun and looked at Rían and everyone else who stood behind him. His face solicited a raw, desperate demand for cooperation through a volley of expressions as if he were a pleading parent, begging silently for absolutely no bullshít! He didn’t need to say a word, but it was very clear that they were not to behave like anything other than a human.

After kicking the highwayman’s asses in their partial beast forms, had these magic hunters sniffed them out? So, wasn’t it too late to act like anything less than supernatural? Isn’t that why the Karanlık were already here? The unlikely possibility that these glorified assassins were simply passing through the area was grim. Even though they were all wearing the talismans to protect their intrinsic identities, if partially shifting into their beasts had sent out some sort of beacon anyway, then the protective magic in these amulets wasn’t worth shít.

If so, what had called the Karanlık to come? It was possible the smoke had piqued their curiosity, too. And perhaps they had heard the women’s screams as well. But why would they even bother approaching if this were not related to their work?

Brett cleared his throat before addressing the clerics, “You’re pissing in the wrong pot, here. Nothing for you.”

Rían sized them up, feeling confident he would have any one of them eating dirt in a physical contest. They weren’t overly muscular by any means, definitely not the size of a Lycan in human form and if they had any weapons, they were concealed under their cloaks. But he wasn’t afraid of that. His apprehension was for the unseen thing. King Joel and Esmond’s constant warning of not underestimating the Karanlık had him continue to gawk at the clerics, opening up his senses to taste their essence. He smelled nothing, though that didn’t mean anything. He and the others, after all, were supernatural beasts veiled behind Esmond’s amulets, obfuscating their true forms. Since these clerics were meant to be seen as humble human servants of the Church, simply ridding the world of tyrannical magic users, they too would not want their truth to be known.

The Karanlık male on the left observed the ranger, his head tilting, causing his hood to slightly shift open. Though still shaded a little, a small oval opening revealed a bit more of the man’s prominent nose and a purpled rugged scar that ran across the top of his chin. Still, his cloaked ambience worked its magic, keeping Rían on edge. The Karanlık used intimidation, used obscurity, to keep people licking their boots in fear.

He demanded, “Give us the girl.” His voice was clinical, stoic, bleeding more into his mystery.

The woman shifted a little in his arms, his attention immediately drawn to her as fear whiffed at his senses. Burying her battered face into the crook of his neck, her hand wrapping his shoulder, she began to shake. Hearing the little gasps, now throttled with panic, shot an aggravated shiver down his spine. Clenching his jaw, Rían pulled her tighter against him, hoping his closeness would help soothe her. She required medical attention and knowing he couldn’t help her right now made his beast writhe, hating how helpless he felt when she needed him.

“Please— don’t let--- him take me,” she faintly breathed into his ear. Shít- she didn’t have to worry about that! There was no way in hell he was handing her over to these bastards. Although he couldn’t figure out exactly why he gave a shít about whether or not she stayed with him or not —this stranger that didn’t trigger the scânteie— but his beast simply would not let her go.

Why did the man beat her? Why did the Karanlık want her?

“We’ve got this situation under control,” Brett replied. “And we’ll be returning both girls and those who were with them back to King Honore in Shonna.” His head tilted toward the Castellan crest on the carriage.

The woman cleric spoke next, her voice just as passive, void of personality, “Other girl? Where is the other?”

Simply put, “Dead.” Brett’s chin nodded back to the carriage. “But there’s not much left of her.” His hand motioned over to Rían. “And we were lucky to get here in time before the bandits threw this one into the fire as well.” The Karanlık said nothing, simply waiting for their request to be filled as their ominous hoods dragged to the woman and rested there. The ranger pressed, “We’ll take care of her and King Tatiane’s courtiers as we'd planned. I am sure nothing here warrants your particular services.”

“By order of the Church, we will take both women. You will hand them over now or face the consequences of resisting the Law.” It was a simple request. Give the creepy clerics the women and Rían and the others could be on their way to Tereswin as planned. Because there should be no damn reason to care about what happened to either one of them, and like Brett said, they needed to sail under the radar of the Akish zealots and keep out of politics.

But that was the problem. For an unfathomable reason —he did care. And it wasn’t because the Karanlık left a bad taste in his mouth. Something insatiable guttered in the pit of his stomach, keeping his beast restless, and even though all other indicators indicated that she was not his kamará, he needed to figure out what these wayward sensations meant!

And that wasn’t going to happen if he lost her to the Karanlık.

Glaring at the horsemen, “Shove your Laws up your asses!” Impulsively, Rían pushed out his aura, making them feel his words. He knew the risks of revealing himself, knew now this made him a target. But like hell he would let them dominate him! The Karanlık shifted under the smothering current that shot from him, their horses stomping at the ground under the weight of his heavy, dominating essence. After reining their beasts to a standstill once more, the third cleric, who had yet not spoken, removed his hood and stared at Rían with a set of eerie obsidian-colored eyes, though he had all the clerics’ complete attention. Rían recognized him immediately as the Karanlık who had noticed him on the road on their way to Landreth. Were they trying to find me?

“Ry! Why are you stirring shít? ” Rory muttered under his breath, cuffing his forearm. “Just give them the girl—” But his words were cut off when Rían shot a split-second look at him-- not wanting to take his eyes off the Karanlık for too long. And that quick scowl he gave him was all his brother needed to understand. That this girl… meant something. “Oh damn…” his eyes fled to the woman whose death-grip tightened around Rían’s neck.

Brett spun around, shooting both warning and anger at him. He hissed for Rían to keep silent, but the ranger had no right to leash him. He was only their guide for Varfaren, simply directing them to the places they needed to go and informing them of what they needed to know. A simple knight of a king. Definitely not one to think he could pull rank over him. “I will not give you the women. So you all can just suck my díck!” He said with certainty, finality, punctuating each word with all the authority of the Lycan prince he was, drawing the proverbial line in the sand.

Rían knew the gloves were off now when a heaviness doused the air around them like a pulsing wave of heat. He had taunted the Karanlık with a fragment of his power, now they were returning the favor.

And just like that, all hell broke loose…