The alpha who had sold him to the goblin hadn’t aged a day, proof of his pure fae blood.
Blood Midas was all too eager to spill, if given half a chance.
“I thought you were dead.” His tormentor chuckled. “Perhaps Natisha bred true after all.”
Ferro strolled forward, his gold hair tangled around his shoulders, dressed in leather pants and a smile.
“Well?” Humor sparkled in his eyes. “Are you that afraid to face me as a man, halfling?”
Brimming with magic, Midas embraced the change and stood before Ferro in a wash of red power.
“You have grown up well.” He inhaled in short pants, scenting him. “You’re stronger than you look.”
Thanks to the power loaned to him from Ambrose, that was true.
“What are you doing here?” Midas kept his tone neutral. “These aren’t your lands.”
“All lands are my lands if I say so,” Ferro said merrily, “but I am here to await orders from Natisha.”
“Here I thought you were the alpha.” Midas shook his head. “Yet it is you who obeys her commands.”
“You should have stayed dead.” Ferro’s cheek twitched. “Though now I will have the pleasure of selling you to the goblin twice. His fights have been lackluster without you. He will pay handsomely for your return.” He glanced past Midas’s shoulder. “Where is your sister? She was a lovely thing when I saw her last. I imagine she has only ripened with age. Perhaps I will put a pup in her. You are all mutts. What is one more?”
“She’s an alpha now,” Midas informed him, “and she would rip out your throat as soon as look at you.”
“How you whet my appetite.” Ferro moistened his lips. “I have a mate, but I could always use another.” He gazed out over the field. “You smell of a woman, but she is not your kin. Have you brought your mate with you? Perhaps we could share her. If she can handle a real gwyllgi in her bed.”
A veil of red filled Midas’s vision, but he reined in the urge to lunge for Ferro’s throat. “No.”
“I don’t require your permission. You hold no power here.” He spread his hands. “I will see to you soon enough, but first I must fulfil my obligation to Natisha. She has promised me a city, and I must ready my pack for the hunt.” He grinned. “Mortal flesh is tender, sweet. It has been too long since we last tasted it.”
The city was already promised, to the coven, but Midas kept that tidbit to himself.
Natisha must plan on pitting them against each other and allowing the victor to claim what remained, if anything. He doubted she cared either way. She craved blood, not soil.
“I can’t let you pass.” Midas planted his feet. “You’ll have to go through me.”
“With pleasure.” Ferro called upon his magic. “Though you still won’t trick me into killing you.”
Midas had learned the hard way that Ferro was as good as his word on that score. No matter how Midas had struggled, how he had taunted him, Ferro had remained jovial in his efforts to break him. Ferro had mastered the art of torture, and he was indifferent enough not to allow a whelp of a boy to cost him the pleasure of his fun. Any debt incurred to his pride was taken from Midas’s hide.
Unsure how well it would work, Midas focused on his bond with Hadley and drew power into himself. He shifted in the blink of an eye, a fraction quicker than Ferro, which earned him a growl of approval from the alpha.
A short yip preceded several more figures who formed a loose circle around them.
The rest of the pack had come to watch their alpha dominate the boy he had already destroyed once.
With the others in place, Ferro instigated the spectacle, darting toward Midas with speed only another fae could match. The past flashed before Midas’s eyes, and it was all he could do to get out of the way.
Teeth ripped into his ruff, hauling him through the dirt. The alpha spat him at the feet of the goblin, who rubbed his hands together with glee. The goblin kicked him in the ribs, marking how he took the hit, then beamed with pleasure.
“He’ll do.” The goblin tossed a bag of coins to Ferro. “He’ll do indeed.”
Ferro barked laughter the others echoed in a cackle like a clan of hyenas.
Their language wasn’t the same as the one spoken by gwyllgi in Atlanta. His pack used a mishmash of warg and gwyllgi words, postures, and behaviors to convey their intent. But he had spent centuries with the goblin, and he had learned the gwyllgi tongue from taunts and jeers screamed down into the arena. He comprehended the language of the goblins, the orcs, and the trolls too.
So, when the pack yelped and barked at Midas, he heard the snipes for what they meant.
And he didn’t care.
Not this time.
Not with his mate vulnerable while lost in concentration as she fought to get them home.
The petty threats and insults that cowed him as a child no longer bothered him. He had outgrown them. They, truly immortal beings, had not changed since he saw them last. They were bullies, cowards who followed a cruel alpha with relish out of boredom.
Any pack who would harm a child wasn’t worth a second thought to Midas, and the beast within him agreed with a flex of its claws.
Tuning out the pack, Midas focused on Ferro, who wasted time playing to the crowd. The alpha was older, stronger, and faster, but he wasn’t used to fighting for his life. His pack was too content, had grown too used to his sloppy leadership that depended not on his teeth and claws but his cunning.
Wheeling away from the cheering bays and stomped paws, Ferro charged Midas again. He must have expected Midas to flee, as he had when he was a boy. As he had moments ago when reminded of what he stood to lose if he failed this time. But Midas feinted left, allowing Ferro a growl of amusement, before he surged right, slamming his shoulder into the alpha’s hip and knocking him sideways.
A stunned hush fell before the pack erupted into a chorus of howls calling for Midas’s death.
Ferro required no encouragement to leap onto Midas’s back and dig in with his claws. His breath hit the back of Midas’s neck, but Midas rolled to dislodge Ferro before his teeth found purchase. They regained their feet in unison, both of them panting, each of them studying the other for weaknesses.
As Ferro bunched his muscles for a leap, a reddish-white blur smacked him in the face, and he skidded to a stunned halt with a shocked cry.
Adrenaline blurred Midas’s surroundings, drummed in his ears, and saliva dripped down his chin. The fight raged within him, but his opponent had frozen on the field with a crimson smear across his cheek.
It cost him several precious seconds to understand what had hit Ferro.
Natisha’s severed arm.
Searching the field for the culprit, he already knew who was behind the act.
“Fight somebody your own size,” Hadley called from far too close for Midas’s comfort. “Or do you only pick on little boys?” Her gaze touched Midas’s. “Not that I’m implying you’re little or a boy, but you were—” She exhaled. “You know what I mean.”
Crimson magic churned, revealing Ferro’s two-legged form as he pointed a damning finger. “You.”
“You’re looking a bit flush.” She leaned forward. “Do you feel okay?”
“Where is Natisha?” Ferro’s snarl was echoed by his surrounding pack. “What have you done?”