Pyre pursed his lips and nodded. He wasn’t surprised at her reaction to what occurred in the woods, but he hoped she’d at least give him a chance to explain himself. While he didn’t mourn the loss of the crown prince, he didn’t like killing any more than anyone else.
“Well, then… it seems as if I have amends to make.” He stepped away from the railing. “As Briggs likes to tell me; best not to let it fester.” A stewing female was a dangerous one. “Time to grovel.”
“You won’t find her.”
He paused, his brows furrowing. There was something alarming in Brine’s tone. Pyre swung around and eyed the wolf. “What do you mean I won’t find her?”
Brine held his gaze, his silver eyes solemn. “She did not return with me.”
The hair at Pyre’s nape rose and goosebumps ran across his skin. She hadn’t returned. He inhaled slowly. “Did I, or did I not command you to retrieve her?”
“You did, but she did not wish to come.”
“Then you should have thrown her over your bloody shoulder and hauled her arse back here!” Tremors began running down his arms and his nails lengthened into claws. His Hound was still in the grasp of the king. “She’s just slip of a girl! How could you do this?”
Brine’s eyes hardened and he took a step closer to Pyre, his chest puffing out. “Because she didn’t want to return to you. You don’t own her.”
The wolf’s words echoed through his mind. She did not want to return to you. You don’t own her.
Pyre snarled and tossed his tumbler against the stone wall. The cup shattered and glass exploded across the veranda. He stared at the sparkling shards of glass scattered across the stone floor and tried to get his temper under control. With difficulty, he kept from attacking his second in command. Barely.
“Do you feel better?” Brine drawled, looking nonplussed.
He didn’t. He wanted to storm Dotae and drag his mate back to Dark Court where he could keep her safe from harm. She had no business playing games with Destin. Temp had no idea what she’d gotten herself into.
“I don’t envy you,” his friend said gruffly.
“What?” Pyre muttered, rubbing his forehead. How quickly could he get to Dotae? Surely, Damien could get him to the coast and then Chesh could smuggle him into the city. From there he could get to his Hound and talk some sense into her.
Brine crossed his arms. “Having a mate as feisty as yours will always be a challenge. She will never allow you to cossette or hide her away. Tempest is a warrior in every sense. I like to think she’d be a wolf if she’d been born from a Talagan line.”
“She’s not my mate.” You know she is.
His friend snorted. “If you say so.” A pause. “Mark my words Pyre. If you try to capture Tempest and force her hand, it will not go well for you. She will be owned by no man. She’s a wild and free soul.”
Pyre snarled at him, flashing fang before facing the south. He curled his fingers around the carved stone railing, his gaze once again moving in the direction of Dotae. Brine wasn’t wrong. If Pyre pressed Tempest, she’d lock him out completely. His palms began to seat at the idea. He needed to get his emotions under control. Now.
Emotional entanglements are a distraction.
“Did she leave you with a message?” he asked, his tone barely civil.
“She managed to gain the alliance of the Hounds.”
Pyre blinked and glared at Brine. “You could have led with that, you bastard.”
His friend shrugged. “You were more worried about the lass.”
“Touché,” he muttered, his mind already spinning with possibilities. “How did she manage that feat?”
“No idea,” Brine answered. “She keeps surprising me.”
“Anything else?” Pyre asked. He half expected the wolf to tell him the elves had come back from the dead and were offering military aid to the Dark Court.
“She told me to express that she knows what you’ve done and that she is not your subordinate.”
He chuckled. How typical of his Hound to give him a verbal lashing whilst not even being there. Even while driving him to distraction, Tempest still managed to draw him even closer to her. He wanted her close. Pyre wanted all her secrets.
You’ll have to give her yours.
Pyre stiffened and rolled his neck. “There’s much to be done.” Time was short to remove the tyrannical monarch before he discovered his bastard son was still alive—alive and ruling the Dark Court.
A humorless smile curled his lips.
One last joke before our finale, eh father?
Continue the Twisted Kingdoms with book 3: THE HEIR.