His voice is sharp as steel and filled with resolve, but that’s not what has my breath catching in my throat and my blood turning to ice.
It’s the malice in his eyes—it’s obvious he’s been looking forward to this for a long time, and he isn’t going to be talked out of it. Which means we’re about to be hauled in front of the king before we get the heartstone, or we’re about to put up a fight. Either isn’t optimal right now, especially not this close to the school and the hundred or so other guards the Circle brought with them.
“You need to shift.” Hudson’s voice comes, loud and urgent, from deep inside me. “There’s going to be a fight, and you’re way too vulnerable as a human.”
If I shift now, I’ll take any element of surprise away from Jaxon.
“Jaxon can handle himself and so can the others. If you don’t shift now, it will be too late.”
My friends and I talked about this the other night, what to do if we ended up getting caught on school grounds. Jaxon was adamant about us leaving him, but now that we’re faced with that decision, there’s no way I can do it. A glance at the others’ faces—especially Mekhi—tells me the same thing. None of us is going anywhere without Jaxon.
And so I do almost what Hudson suggests. I reach for the platinum string and hold it gently in my hand. I don’t close my fist around it quite yet, but I prepare myself to be able to in a split second.
“Shift, damn it!” Hudson is frantic now. “You don’t know my father. You don’t know what he’s capable of—”
Can you please be quiet? I urge. I can’t hear with you shouting in my head. Just give me a minute to think, will you?
“Simon, we both know this isn’t going to end well for you and your little band of misfit toys.” Jaxon’s voice snaps like kindling. “Which means you’ve got two choices. You can go on your way and pretend you never saw us out here practicing.” He holds up his backpack as proof of our late-night practice routine. “Or you can get your ass kicked. Now, I don’t care which one of those you choose, but it is going to be one of those two choices. So take a minute, talk it over, and let me know what you guys end up deciding.”
A couple of the other guards laugh, a sound that’s immediately quelled when they find themselves the object of Jaxon’s own ice-cold stare. Though, to be honest, I’m shocked they can even meet his gaze. I’m his mate, and if he ever looked at me like that, I would die.
At first, it feels like they’re going to back down. A couple of the guards shift their feet; a couple others look anywhere else but at Jaxon. And still others—warlocks, all of them—lift their hands away from their wand holders, a clear sign that they aren’t looking to get in a full-on battle tonight.
But then something happens—the crack of a twig in the forest, a sudden movement from Flint behind me in his dragon form, a slight shift of Jaxon’s feet so he could block me just a little more completely. I don’t know—I’ll probably never know—but out of nowhere, one of the guards at the very edge of their circle leaps straight at Mekhi, shifting in midair.
Jaxon shoves me into Flint—for protection, I think—and then moves to intercept the guard, but Mekhi is on the other side of the group, and the split second he took to shove me into Flint cost him. Worse, it costs Mekhi, as Jaxon is half a second too late as the guard sinks his werewolf teeth straight into Mekhi’s throat, going for the jugular.
97
Another One
Bites the Dust
Macy screams as Jaxon rips the wolf off Mekhi’s throat, and for one second, two, time seems to stand still. And then all hell breaks loose.
Mekhi drops to his knees, clutching his throat, as blood pours onto the ground around him.
I’m desperate to reach him, but every time I try, Flint wraps his tail around me—my own personal dragon armor—and holds me tight even as he shoots fire straight at the contingent of guards rushing toward him.
But I’m not weak, human Grace anymore, and while he is busy par-broiling one of the werewolves, I grab hold of my platinum string as tightly as I can.