Cursed Mate (Feral Shifters 3)
Fuck. Could Amora even survive what exists in the other realm? Unease prickles up my spine at how close we just came to losing her.
We need to take those shadows out, I tell my brothers. As fast as we can.
We’re yanked back into combat as several of Quinton’s wolves burst into our little circle, breaking up the party.
I pounce on the nearest Blood Moon wolf, taking him down to the ground, while Malix and Frost tag team a shadow shifter. Picking up the wolf with my teeth, I fling him at two more advancing wolves, taking them down like pins in a bowling lane.
When I glance back up, Malix and Frost are having trouble with their shadow shifter. The beast is big, and he must’ve been pumped full of more shadow magic than the rest, because he fights almost like a Berserker, wild and brutal. I leap over one of the fallen wolves and head toward them to help, only to stop cold as Amora screams my name.
Kian!
Whirling around, I find her darting over the uneven terrain in a mad zigzag pattern while a huge shadow chases after her.
Protective fury lances through me, and I sprint to her side just as the shadow gets a hold on her head and shoulders. She yelps and skids to a halt, pulling back against the shadow’s grip.
Kian! Fuck. It’s taking me! She scrabbles at the dirt, small whimpers falling from her mouth.
The terror in her voice sends panic rushing through my veins. I lunge for the shadow, finding a hold on it with my teeth. The damn thing is solid and way too strong, clutching Amora with supernatural power. But I don’t give in. I tug on it with all my might, digging my heels into the ground for better leverage.
My muscles strain and burn, and my heart thuds against my ribcage. Amora snarls—a sound not of anger, but of pain—and I bite harder. The shadow tears away beneath my teeth, and I fall back, the shredded piece of its form tasting like ash on my tongue. But it isn’t enough of a wound to stop the beast.
Amora stumbles sideways from the sudden loss of the shadow’s hold on her. She goes down hard, scrabbling to get back up as the shadow slithers over more of her body.
I leap toward the monster again, only one thought pounding in my head like the rhythm of my heartbeat.
The prophecy.
The prophecy.
The prophecy.
The witch told my brothers and me that our bond with Amora would lead to her destruction. Is this that moment? The consequence of the three of us claiming her?
I tear at the shadow, not holding anything back as I try to rip it to pieces.
This must be the moment the seer warned us about, the moment we’ve all been trying to avoid. Amora being here with us, fighting alongside us and targeted by Quinton’s shadows because of his hatred for her, is going to result in her death.
No. I can’t let that happen. I’m not going to let that happen. No matter what I have to do, I’ll subvert it.
I’ll save her.
I’ll stop the seer’s vision from coming true.
My teeth aren’t doing anything other than tearing off small pieces of the beast. I need to get between it and Amora, divert its attention from her and onto me. But the dark creature is spread over her like a glove. She’s on the ground, only her legs visible, but I can still hear her snarling and fighting back. Her struggle is all in vain though, since she can’t even touch it.
Clamping my teeth on a wider section of the shadow down near her leg, I rip at it with all my might. The shadow lets out a screech like rusted metal on metal, but the shred opens up a hole big enough for my paw.
Good.
I immediately reach into the shadow and begin to wedge myself between them. As if startled by my sudden change in tactic, the shadow jolts, then begins to backtrack toward me. Part of it wraps around my head and neck, and I twist my head to snap at the strange, rubbery feel of it.
Then something painfully hot and sharp slices into my jaw.
I smell the blood before I feel it welling up on my fur. It spills down my chest where it mingles with the dirt beneath us with a coppery scent.
The pain radiates through me, but I keep shoving my way beneath the shadow anyway. With my feet beneath me and the shadow against my back, I shove against the ground and tear the shadow away from Amora’s prone form. With heavy footsteps, I manage to straddle her, opening up a clear space for her to scramble out.
I glance down at her, barely visible in this deep, dark place beneath. My blood soaks her fur, pouring freely from me.
A lot of blood.
More than there should be.
A wave of lightheadedness washes over me.
Get out, I snarl at Amora.
She stares up at me with those beautiful, wild green eyes. No! You’re hurt. You can’t do this alone.
My initial instinct is to growl at her, to snarl for her to move her ass before I give her reason to. But it doesn’t feel like the right instinct anymore.
So I simply say, Please. Please go.
Her eyes widen and her jaw opens slightly in surprise. Then she snaps her snout shut. I’ll get Malix and Frost.
As she starts to roll over onto her belly so she can crawl out from beneath me, the shadow shifts.
The few places that still cling to her body like tentacles snap away from her and wrap around me.
A strange tugging sensation turns the world on its axis. The darkness crawls over my chest, my bloody neck, and up my snout, moving swiftly. I’m too weak from the blood loss to fight it. My only goal was to get the shadow off Amora, and I did that.
At least I did that.
That thought resonates in my mind as the shadow yanks me down, swallowing me whole.
I get one last brief glimpse of Amora’s face before the shadow drags me through the veil between the shadow realm and earth.
Then all I see is blackness.