The Night Prince (The Wolf King, #2)(109)

A slow grin spreads across Alexander’s face. “I wondered if you would try and take her from me. Too bad you’re alone.”

Blake’s lips curve into a cold smile. “What makes you think I’m alone?”

“Hello, Alex.” A low, smooth voice comes from the entrance corridor to my left. Jack leans against the stand and waves, a guard dead at his feet. His dark skin is wet from the rain, and it glints in the torchlight. He holds a bloody sword in one hand. “How have you been?”

“Long time no see.” A gruff voice, thick with the Northlands accent. Arran blocks the exit to my right, big arms folded across his chest, his one good eye focused on Alexander. Two guards are sprawled before him, hoods askew and necks twisted at unnatural angles.

A murmur fills the tiered seating. The cloaked people rise to their feet all around me.

“How nice. A family reunion.” Alexander turns on the spot, spreading his arms. “If we had Fenrir and Fara here, we’d have the whole pack back together.”

Jack shrugs. “They were otherwise engaged.”

“Get Fara’s name out of your filthy mouth,” growls Arran.

Alexander laughs. “Still pining for that bitch, I see. Too bad she rejected you.”

Whatever Arran growls in response fades into the background as Blake bends down and plucks something from the pocket of the guard at his feet. It glints in the torchlight as he tosses it to James a few feet away from him—it’s a key.

“No one you don’t trust leaves here alive,” says Blake quietly. “Wolf or man.”

They’re enemies, they despise one another, and I think James is going to say something unsavory to Blake. He nods. “Except for you, presumably,” he says under his breath.

Blake smiles coolly. “Except for me.”

James raises his shackled wrists and sticks the key into the lock of his collar as Alexander turns back to Blake. “You want her, Brother? Come and get—”

There’s a flicker of steel, a swish of blades, and something slices the darkness.

One of Blake’s daggers plunges into Alexander’s torso, the other in his inner thigh. He staggers back. He grips one of the knives and pulls it out, then slumps to his knees. Blood pumps quickly out of his wound and mixes with mine on the floor. He clamps the gash with one hand, while moving his other to the second dagger’s hilt and sliding it out with a feral groan.

He laughs. “You’re a fool, Brother. You can’t kill me.” His voice is hoarse as he glares at the stands. “Kill them all. Except the Princess. She is. . . mine.”

Chaos erupts in the amphitheater. The cloaked humans flood down the stands. James has passed the key around, and the Wolves are already freeing themselves and tossing their shackles aside. James is on his feet, roaring, as he strangles a blond man with his chain. He charges toward Claire.

Jack blocks the blade of one of the acolytes as it slices down toward one of the prisoners, before he pulls Ryan to his feet and sticks another sword in his hand.

The ground trembles, and I’m not sure if it’s because of the thunder of feet, or the beast that lurks beneath us.

Blake moves through the tide of blood and destruction toward me. He barely blinks as he unsheathes his sword and decapitates a man who gets in his way. He stabs a man who is helping Alexander in the face, and then smashes the Borderlands lord’s head with the base of the hilt. Alexander crumples into his own blood. Blake steps over him.

“Blake!” Arran tosses another set of keys toward his alpha. The guard who shackled me to the post is dead at his feet. Blake snatches them from the air and his scent of dark pine and poison engulfs me.

“Keep an eye on Alex. He can’t die or we’re fucked,” says Blake.

“Aye.” Arran powers toward the unconscious lord, slicing down a human in his path.

Blake presses himself against me, warm and solid, as he reaches for one of the shackles. There’s a click, and my hand falls loose. My legs buckle, and he hooks an arm around my lower hips, careful not to touch my back as he frees my other hand. Gently, he lowers us to our knees. My blood and Alexander’s seeps into our breeches.

He searches my face. He brings his hands to my cheeks and brushes away the tears and blood with the pad of his thumb.

My throat tightens. “You came.”

“Did you truly think I would not?”

The ground trembles, and Blake’s jaw sharpens when a low hiss comes from beneath us.

“There’s. . .” My throat burns, and every breath opens the wounds in my back. “Night’s prisoner. . ..”

“Yes. If it gets free, we’re all dead. I’m going to get you out of here, but it’s going to hurt.”

I blink back the tears. “I know.”

“Good girl.” He brings his arm around my waist and rises into a crouch. “Okay, hands on my shoulders. That’s it.” I whimper as the movement provokes a deep, burning ache in my back. “Shh, I know.”

A film of water fills my eyes. “Can you feel it?”

“You’re suppressing your emotions, caging your pain. I feel only a little.”

He lifts me to my feet, and when he puts my arm around his shoulders, a low, feral sound scrapes against my throat.

“I know,” he soothes. “It will only last for a short while. I have a sleep tonic in my pocket. I’ll give it to you as soon as we’re clear of the Grey Keep. Come on.”