Ren’s gaze flicked to Jacob. He and Björn and all the others had heard this exchange, were awaiting her next move.
She would make any sacrifice to keep her loved ones alive—even surrendering her humanity. She told Munro, “If you defeat these foes, I vow on the souls of my ancestors that I will be your mate forever.”
“Good lass.” Munro stepped closer and cupped the back of her head. “For you, Kereny, I’ll kill them all.” The wild lightning bolts reflected in his golden eyes as he leaned down. “Now, give me a taste of what I’ll be fighting for. . . .”
In the pouring rain, his warm lips met hers for the first time. She gasped into the kiss as the world spun, and his words echoed through her dazed mind.
The hands of gods.
SIXTEEN
If there was ever a prize to fight for, it was more of his mate’s breathless kiss, yet Munro couldn’t spare the time to enjoy it.
When he drew back, she looked thunderstruck.
His irrational decision to fight was a huge risk, but at least he had a chance of securing her cooperation through Quondam and while searching for a way to turn her immortal. He just needed to survive long enough.
His wavering had subsided. The fade must come at intervals. How long did he have before the next one hit him?
When the newlings burst from the tree line, Munro told her, “Doona move from this spot. I’ll keep them away from you and your hunters.”
Her gaze slid to the groom, who looked partly sick, partly determined.
Getting his head in the game, Munro faced the approaching threat: his Lykae brethren. He reminded himself that he’d never killed a newling, and history couldn’t be changed. This slate would be wiped clean as soon as he reached the gateway.
Each male had fangs and claws bared. They were going to come at him like a tornado of razor wire, as fast as the lightning bolts all around them.
But war was Munro’s vocation. Battle is what you do. And never was a wolf stronger than when protecting a mate.
As he struggled to concentrate on the task ahead, he stole a glance at his hands. They wavered once more, only now the fade had spread up his forearms.
This one’s goin’ to be close. . . .
Before Munro had turned from Ren, he’d shaken his head hard, his gaze growing focused.
He was going to battle without his beast. If he harnessed his body’s unspeakable power with his calculating mind, he’d be more terrifying than all the newlings.
But he was weak from his recent imprisonment and her knife attacks, and she counted another dozen in this wave. No way he could defeat so many.
Jacob limped to Ren’s side. “I never thought the wolf would fight his own kind. Maybe they’ll cancel each other out.”
Munro might . . . die. The ache in her chest shocked her. Munro MacRieve cannot be meant for me. A Lykae?
Jacob studied her face. “So matehood is real?”
Guilt swamped her. “I-I don’t know.” But how else could she explain her reaction to Munro’s kiss? She’d felt as if the entire universe had been distilled into that contact between them. As if gods had indeed touched them with a divine hand.
Seeming to read her mind, Jacob said, “We never kissed like that.”
“I’m sorry you had to see it. I want to talk to you about all this, but right now we must prepare to defend ourselves, just in case.” She addressed the hunters: “Regroup and make ready!” They mustered into place as Munro fearlessly charged to meet too many opponents.
She sensed Jacob’s eyes on her, but she couldn’t wrest hers from the wolf.
When he gave a brutal roar, several of the newlings stopped and howled at this unknown alpha. Four heedless others attacked him.
Munro moved like a flickering shadow in the storm. He swung, claws glinting. Two newling heads somersaulted through the air, and blood spurted. The bodies hadn’t even dropped before Munro turned to the next pair. He clawed at one’s throat while punching the other male’s face in, sending that Lykae flying.
Eight more tore past him.
“Swords ready!” she yelled, but Munro turned and vaulted into the air, soaring over the newlings. He landed well ahead of them, merely awaiting their arrival.
His lethal claws tore through them. He slashed and even bit like an animal. Yet his beast hadn’t risen.
He’d been right about one thing: he was a warrior. Despite the savagery of his fighting style, his movements were practiced and efficient. When the last three of that wave managed to make it past him, he snatched up a headless corpse and hurled it at the trio, knocking them to the ground.
Her jaw dropped.
“Remind me not to fuck with your mate,” Björn called, eyes wide.
She glanced at Jacob. He looked like he didn’t know what outcome to hope for. Either way he would lose: his life or his wife. Unless Munro fell late in the battle . . .
By the time those stunned newlings had made it to their feet, Munro was there to lay waste to them.
With him nearby, her senses were heightened again. She heard cracking bone and could swear the scent of blood tainted the mist. Chunks of flesh sailed hundreds of feet through the air to pelt the big top. Thwack, thwack!
The gore didn’t faze her, but Munro’s skill did. When he took down the final newling from that cluster, he had his piercing gaze locked on her—as he ripped the male’s head free.
They stared at each other through the rain, his eyes promising things she wasn’t ready to accept.
She wrenched her focus from him when the woods spat out three more Lykae, the last of the thirty the scouts had reported. One of them was gigantic, as tall and big as an ogre. Must be a hundred pounds heavier than Munro.
He readied as the trio reached him, circling him. This group looked fresh while his reaction time had slowed. One newling slashed his leg while the ogre raked its claws across his chest. She saw a flash of bone before Munro’s blood welled.
His words rang through her mind: Lass, let’s protect each other. “He’s in trouble.” Knife at the ready, she searched for an opening to help, but the fighting would be unpredictable by design. Warriors trained not to telegraph their moves.
Jacob said, “We can take the rest of them, Ren.”
Björn added, “Let the wolves have at him. Your vow doesn’t count if he’s dead.”
“I can’t repay him with treachery.” She turned to Trish and yelled, “Crank the carousel again!”
With a nod, the woman sprinted in that direction.