Hold on, Munro! But how much longer could he continue like this?
She’d just had that thought when his body began to grow. He was transforming! She’d never seen a Lykae turn into its werewolf form.
His muscles burgeoned, fangs and claws lengthening. His eyes glowed blue in the night as the image of the beast rose over him.
She had caressed that Lykae’s body while such a monstrous creature lurked beneath the surface!
Munro threw back his head and roared. The newlings grew more aggressive against an alpha beast, clawing at him with increased ferocity. They moved so quickly that gashes on his flesh seemed to appear as if by magic.
Just then, the carousel blazed to life with music and lights. Each newling jerked his gaze to it. Munro used the distraction to strike, annihilating his way through two.
The ogre alone remained. It squared off against him; they traded blows. The fight was fast and difficult to follow, but something wasn’t right. Munro’s arms appeared to pass through the ogre each time he struck.
Suddenly, the ogre jabbed its claws forward, stabbing them into Munro’s throat.
Ren bit back a scream. Shake him off!
Munro swung his arms at the ogre, but they were like air. His throat wasn’t, though. One yank upward and he would be no more.
The ogre roared with triumph.
Beneath the vision of his beast, Munro’s brows-drawn gaze flicked to her. The end. And he knows it.
“Munro!” she screamed, her legs moving, taking her closer. She readied her blade as she ran. If she threw from too far away, she would miss. If she waited too long, she would lose him.
That feeling of protectiveness sparked aggression like she’d never known—as if she would snatch out the ogre’s throat with her teeth if she had to. Desperation underscored determination as she took aim. She heard Jacob yelling, hobbling after her, but then sounds faded away as her tunnel of focus appeared.
When the ogre’s arm tensed for the killing blow, she flung her knife with everything in her. The blade shimmered in the lightning. . . .
Thunk.
The hilt jutted from the ogre’s temple.
Munro staggered back, freeing himself. Blood gushed from his neck. When his hands shot up to stem the flow, it ran through them. Yet then they solidified once more.
She had no time to devise an explanation; the giant still stood. It lurched toward Ren, resisting the blade’s spell. She readied her sword—
A fist punched through the ogre’s thick neck from behind. Munro’s beastly hand snatched at flesh, then yanked backward. Hot jugular blood sprayed in the rain as the ogre’s head tumbled to the ground.
Its body relinquished life by grudging degrees, its arms swinging in a macabre dance.
At last, it fell.
“Make sure that one’s done,” she ordered her hunters. “And free my blade.”
As they descended on the newling, she asked Munro, “What’s happening to you?”
He’d turned from her. Doesn’t want me to see him with his beast risen? The injuries across his bare back gaped open with each labored breath. Rain seemed to pour through his body. In flashes of lightning, he wavered again.
“Wolf?” She dimly noticed when Björn returned her blade to her.
Moments passed, but no more newlings exited those woods. They heard no howls, only the storm.
Someone let out a cheer. Others joined in. They’d won!
Shoulders heaving, Munro rocked on his feet. Then the fully turned Lykae eased around to face her, and everyone fell silent.
There he stood against a backdrop of lightning, surrounded by still-writhing corpses. Each bolt illuminated the monster inside him, the monster that wanted to claim Ren for its mate.
As the blood-drenched male stalked toward her, she swallowed, forcing herself to hold her ground.
Jacob limped over to stand in front of her. “Just one second! You’re no better than a newling like this, a danger to her—”
The beast batted him away, pure menace stamped on its face.
“No!” she cried, holstering her knife. “I’ll go with you, Munro.”
Jacob had landed some distance away. He sucked in air, coughing on the rain.
The hunters raised their swords, but she shook her head. “I made a deal with him, and I’ll honor it.”
Björn helped Jacob to his feet. Her husband gazed at her with anguish, knowing he couldn’t stop the wolf. Never get between a Lykae and his mate.
When Munro stood before her, his look of dark possession said everything: He’d earned her. He deserved her. She was his prize. He stifled his beast enough to growl one word: “Mine.” Then he tossed her over his shoulder.
She bit back a cry as he lumbered toward the forest. The wolf was taking her to his world. As his mate.
Oh, Doamne, what have I done?
She peered back at the hunters he’d saved. Pity filled their expressions. Jacob looked utterly defeated.
A new lantern light shone from Vanda’s wagon. She and Puideleu stood outside the door, seeming unsurprised that a wolf was carrying her away. Or maybe they were just resigned.
Had this been Ren’s fate since the moment Munro MacRieve had first learned of her existence?
Vanda raised her hand, saying so many things in that simple gesture.
Ren raised hers in return. Her gaze swept over each of her loved ones. Will I never see them again?
She kept her eyes on them for as long as she could, memorizing their faces. She stared until her vision blurred from tears, and the forest swallowed her and the wolf whole.
SEVENTEEN
—You’re running out of time!— Munro tore through the woods as fast as his damaged body could take them. He’d curbed his beast, but it remained in a tumult to rise.
When he shifted Kereny’s position to cradle her in his arms, drops of rain pattered her lovely face. “What happened to you during the fight, wolf?”
Between ragged breaths, he managed to say, “Canna explain it.” That hulking newling had savaged his throat but must’ve missed his vocal cords. “Barely talk.”
“Okay. Just . . .” She exhaled. “Okay.”
Though he blocked out the pain of his many wounds, blood loss made his legs feel like cold stone, nigh impossible to lift. Would he reach the gateway before the next fade hit him? He had no doubt Kereny had perished against those newlings in her original timeline. If Munro died here, she’d be lost forever.
As he staggered on, a haze settled over him, and memories filled his mind. Of Mam. Da. Tàmhas. They all appeared to him, so lifelike and fresh. Maybe because he was on the verge of death himself?