Lord of the Wolfyn - By Jessica Andersen Page 0,69

tonight, when so much was riding on the outcome.

He framed her face in his hands and leaned in to say against her lips, “Ah, sweet Reda. My precious warrior.”

As his mouth covered hers, she knew he was a wolfyn. As his tongue touched her lips, she was fully aware that he had made love to her without telling her the worst of his secrets. And as she parted her lips and let him inside, she did it knowingly. Willingly. Greedily.

There was no enthrallment. There was just the two of them, and the connection that existed despite everything else going on around them.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and held on for a kiss that was less about arousal than about saying, Yes, I’m here for you. We’re in this together. Because that was the other certainty she had awakened with—it wasn’t about following the orders of a voice in the fog anymore; she was determined to see this through at Dayn’s side. Not just because of what might or might not be between them but because it was the right thing to do. This was bigger than the two of them, bigger than anything she’d ever dealt with before. She could do it, though. And she would. She could, in her own way, help save the world. Or at least a kingdom.

Putting that certainty into her kiss, she slid her hands up his back and spread her fingers wide, covering as much of him as she could. I’ve got your back, she thought. Let’s go get this bastard.

As if he’d heard her, he eased back with a last, lingering press of his lips to her cheek, her temple. Then he turned her so they were both facing away from Blood Lake, and pointed. “See that tall pine there with the three-way split at the top?”

It was maybe a half, three-quarters of a mile away, and looked like a trident. She nodded. “I see it. You want to use it as an emergency meet-up point?”

“No. Your shrine is at the base of that tree.”

“My…what?” She turned on him, sure she’d heard wrong.

But his eyes, which had only moments earlier been entirely focused on her, slid past her to the island before flicking back to her face. “I know who I am and what I need to do, Reda. I’m a prince of Elden, first and foremost, and I can’t let anything distract me from that.”

Her head spun on an inner groan of, Nooooo. This wasn’t happening, couldn’t be happening. “You can’t go in there alone. They’ll kill you.” Her voice cracked on it, her heart bled from it. “If you’re trying to protect me, don’t. I can take care of myself.”

Instead of answering right away, he caught her hand and lifted it to press her palm to his chest, sandwiching it there so she felt the steady beat of his heart. “We each need to live the lives we were born into.” He folded their hands together, pressed a kiss to her knuckles and then let her go and stepped back. “Go home, Reda. It’s where you belong.”

“I…” She just stood there for a second, vapor locked, not from fear but from shock, dismay and a sudden churn of anger. “You son of a bitch. Keely was right, wasn’t she? You’re a user.”

He didn’t say anything, just stood there. And she didn’t see anything that said he wanted her to stay. In fact, she didn’t see anything at all.

Whatever fragile trust they had begun to rebuild—or rather, that she had begun to rebuild—shredded in that instant, and disappeared. Poof. Gone.

Done. Game over.

When something nudged the small of her back, she jolted hard and spun, which sent MacEvoy skittering back several steps, where he stood, blowing through his nose as if to say, What’s your problem?

Her startled laugh choked to a sob as she gathered his dragging reins. She didn’t look at Dayn, couldn’t look at him or she would lose it. “Come on.” She sighted on the trident-shaped treetop and gave MacEvoy a tug. “Let’s see if there are any decent farms between here and there.” If not, she would strip off his tack and set him loose to fend for himself.

She stopped at the edge of the scrub, where it turned to a narrow track that led to the road, and turned back. Dayn stood against a backdrop of the polluted lake and the run-down castle, looking determined, distant and alone. The lone wolfyn. Oh, God. Her heart clutched