Chapter 6 6

"Touch Lydia, and I'll make you suffer centuries of pain," Fenrir roared.

My jaw clenched. Grog was going to get what was coming to him. Right now. I reached his scrawny legs, wrapped my hands around his bony ankles and pushed my wolf's magic through my hands. Flames filled my palms, setting the oil on his skin alight.

Grog jumped aside, staring down at me through eyes wide with shock. "What the fuck?"

I launched myself backward and hissed through my teeth, "The only thing Fenrir will watch is your dirty carcass going up in flames."

He dropped his staff and tried to douse the flames with the palms of his hands, but his movements only made everything worse.

With a scream, the shaman flailed his legs, trying to put out the fire, but it only stoked the flames. Flames that spread up his legs, filling the air with the scent of burned hair, burned flesh, and the burned fabric of his loincloth.

I crawled on my belly toward the wooden staff, hoping its destruction would end his magic. Wrapping my hands around its handle, I channeled as much of my wolf's power as she would allow into the wood.

Her anguished howl filled my ears. I cringed at having deceived her but I continued burning the staff until it was brittle enough to snap in two.

A burned and blackened Grog rushed to my side, filling my nostrils with the stench of charred flesh. He snatched the smoldering top half of his staff from my hands. "What have you done?"

The floor shook with the might of Fenrir's fury.

My wolf threw herself at the barrier that separated our souls, snarling, snapping, growling at me to relinquish control.

I shoved her down once more and glowered into the shaman's scorched face. "Go back to Marchosias and tell him I won't be his broodmare."

"You're ruining everything." Grog pulled back his foot and kicked me in the gut.

Pain radiated through my insides, but it was nothing compared to the agony of my heat. I grabbed at his ankle again, this time turning my hands into claws and digging them into his flesh.

Fenrir's roar sent a cold blast of fury across my skin, giving me the drive to continue fighting.

Grog slammed the head of his staff over my skull. "Let go of me, you feral bitch."

Wincing, I tore at the shaman's burned skin.

"You'll pay for this," Fenrir roared.

The wards splintered. Shards of power rained down on me like invisible pieces of broken glass and sliced across my skin. Shuddering through the sensation of being cut with hundreds of invisible blades, I twisted Grog's foot.

He fell onto his back with a scream and thrashed from side to side. "Stop this," he yelled. "It hurts."

Fenrir rushed up behind Grog and dropped down, his knees landing on the smaller man's torso. The shaman reared up with a pained scream, his eyes wide.

"Bastard." He grabbed Grog's head with both hands, tore it from his shoulders, and tossed it to the other side of the room.

My heart soared, even though my wolf's stomach plummeted with shock. Blood poured from the shaman's neck and pooled across the floor, reaching my legs. I was about to shuffle back, but a hard contraction seized my insides, making me cry out.

Fenrir turned from the twitching corpse to me. His pupils were no longer an incandescent white, but his skin was paler than I'd ever seen it, and his lips trembled.

"Lydia." His voice broke. "I should have protected you."

Grimacing, I shook my head. This wasn't Fenrir's fault.

Fenrir slipped his hand beneath my body, turned me onto my back, and pulled me to his chest.

His touch was like being immersed in a cool bath, taking away the intensity of the heat. I inhaled his earthy scent, letting it wash through my senses. My wolf calmed, and some of the madness clouding both our minds faded. I exhaled my relief in an outward breath and clung to Fenrir's powerful body.

"I'm sorry," he murmured into my hair.

"That bastard shot you," I said through clenched teeth. "The poison was supposed to keep you unconscious for at least an hour, but you fought through it to save me."

"I couldn't leave you to the mercy of a powerful enemy." He turned toward the half-burned corpse. "Who was that?"

"Who do you see?" I asked.

Fenrir turned back to me, his brow furrowed. "A man I've never met before."

"That's Grog," I said. "The Norse pack's shaman."

Fenrir glanced down at the body once more. "Whatever magic he was using did not come from shamanism."

I rested my head on his shoulder and exhaled a relieved breath. "That's because he made a deal with Marchosias."

He growled. "Another one?"

"Beowulf told Grog and Alpha Gundahar all about the deal he made with Marchosias," I murmured. "When the Supernatural Council cursed Beowulf with impotence, Grog was ready to take his place."

Fenrir snarled through his teeth. "Then we need to stop Marchosias."

Had I said Fenrir's presence calmed my heat? That had been a lie. My insides twisted like a wet cloth, and all the muscles of my body turned rigid. The sensations of lit dynamite fuses engulfed my nerves, which screamed for release. I threw my head back and cried.

"Lydia!"

"The heat." My bones rattled so much that my teeth chattered. "It's going to kill me if you don't-"

Fenrir staggered to one side, and I nearly fell from his embrace. Wet, wheezing breaths filled the air. I cracked open an eye to find a headless white wolf standing behind him, its hackles raised. Blood seeped from its neck wound and colored its fur a deep red.