back. I will handle this.”
Yes, yes, Deep Bitch, he silently urged her. She was fast and deadly. One stroke of her sword, and the pack would be saved. Do it. Do it now.
“No!” Darcy grabbed Seren’s elbow, clinging onto her arm. “I’m his mate. I can drive the demon out of him!”
He howled in anguish, but the sound that came from his throat was cold, mocking laughter. It wasn’t his own.
The scar on his back burned. He knew its shape now, every edge and curve of it, as clearly as though it was a red-hot brand pressed into his skin. He had seen its twin on his sister’s forehead.
A horned serpent.
The mark of Uncegila.
“Come and try, little one,” the demon queen said, her hissing voice filled with gloating malice. She spread his arms wide in a grotesque parody of an inviting embrace. “Let us see which is stronger. Love, or blood.”
“That’s not an ordinary demon,” Edith gasped.
“Fan-fucking-tastic.” Buck had his gun drawn, pointed squarely at Fenrir’s chest. “Maybe this flavor isn’t bulletproof.”
“Are you mad?” Letting go of Seren, Darcy lunged in front of Buck, blocking his shot. “Possessed or not, that’s Fenrir! You can’t just shoot him!”
“And you can’t get rid of the demon from him!” Blaise bodily lifted Darcy away, holding her off the ground with shifter strength as the smaller woman kicked and struggled. “Darcy! You’re mates, but you’re not mated! You can’t even talk to him telepathically, how the hell do you think you’re going to reach into his soul and yank out that thing?”
Listen to her, he begged his mate. Run. Don’t try to save me. It’s too late for that.
He couldn’t be saved. Not now, not ever. It had always been too late for him.
He’d always known that, deep down. That was the truth he’d always hidden, even from himself. The thing he couldn’t bear to face.
I’m sorry, he whispered silently—to his mate, to his pack, to his unconscious inner animal. They’d all tried to help him, every one of them. He should have listened. I’m sorry.
“Put me down!” Darcy fought like a mad thing, clawing at Blaise’s restraining arm. All his failures, all his betrayals, and she still tried to go to him. “I won’t let you hurt him!”
“I will not.” Seren stepped forward, turning her blade so that the flat faced him rather than the edge. “On my honor, I will only strike to stun, Darcy. Once he is unconscious, we will find a way to remove this creature that wears his flesh. I give you my word, I will not harm him.”
No, no! He didn’t want mercy, didn’t want her to risk her own life in a futile attempt to save his. There was only one path to redemption for him now, and it lay along the edge of her sword.
He threw his own will against the foreign force invading his mind. If he could make himself hesitate, give Seren an opening, even for a fraction of a second—
He might as well have tried to hold back an avalanche. Uncegila’s power poured through his body, wrenching muscle and bone with unstoppable force.
She made him move with a speed that he could never have managed himself. His hand snapped forward in a blur of motion, hurling a dart straight into Seren’s face.
The knight’s finely honed reflexes saved her. Seren cut through the dart, green serum splattering on the ground. But the desperate movement left her overextended, half-turned and vulnerable. No matter how Fenrir tried to stop himself, his other hand whipped around, gripping a dart, plunging it down toward Seren’s shoulder—
Silver light flared just above Seren’s body. The needle shattered against the magical shield. An instant later, Fenrir’s muscles screamed in protest as Uncegila snapped his spine back at an impossible angle, evading Wystan’s sweeping horn.
Wystan reared, kicking out with his hooves. Fenrir felt himself yanked into the air, like a puppet jerked up from a stage.
Uncegila made him land lightly on his feet, ten feet back. His mouth curved into a predatory smile.
“Come, my sweet children,” she crooned through his lips. “Mother has a feast for you.”
A fresh line of pain seared through him as she raked the jagged end of the broken dart across the back of his hand. She shook his arm, scattering black drops of blood in a wide arc. Where they fell, the snow hissed into steam. Dirt shuddered, splitting apart to reveal churning knots of close-packed, scaled coils. Horned serpents spilled out into the world, hissing, eyes