Savage (Alpha Brotherhood 1)

“Follow me,” she replied meekly.

“Quickly. I don’t want to be too late,” I demanded, and she took off running down the hallway. I followed her, not paying attention to the rooms and doors we passed as we went. Anyone that was in our path moved out of the way just as quickly and I didn’t take even a second glance. With every step I took, I could feel that something was wrong, that Freya was likely scared or hurt or even worse.

I hoped I was moving fast enough.

The hallways got wider and as I descended into the castle, I was aware of the fact that we were moving closer and closer to the throne room. The servant girl raced ahead of me and pointed toward a room down the hall, yelling something about her being inside.

I tore past her and into the throne room.

I heard Freya cry out and then the bond went dark.

I couldn’t feel her anymore and I panicked.

I burst into the side room, only to find a strange alpha male sitting on top of her pale form. I was horrified to see that she was covered in blood. Her own blood and not his. His dark gaze met mine in a prideful grimace, before he glanced back down at her. I didn’t recognize his face, but right now it didn’t matter. The bastard looked from me to the door, once then twice, before he ran. The red haze returned, and I snarled, the echo vicious and loud as it bounced off the stone walls all around me.

I wanted to tear him apart. I wanted to rip his head from his shoulders and put it on a pike, but as I stared ahead, the sound of a soft rattling breath met my ears. I tried to quell the raging fury inside me and when I turned my eyes to look at her, it all dissipated in a fraction of a second.

Freya.

My mate.

The one that I had bonded to me.

The growing piece of my soul.

The thought of losing her made my heart ache in a way that I’d never felt before.

When I’d first entered the towering walls of Valgertha, she’d simply been a mission to conquer and subdue. I even had orders to kill her if I had to. But the moment that I’d laid eyes on her, that all changed.

I had simply wanted to make her mine.

And now I might lose her.

Freya was the only thing that mattered now. Not the orders of the Brotherhood. Not the revenge I wanted to rain down on the man who had run from this room. Nothing else.

Just her.

Bloody and broken, she lay perfectly still on the floor. The top she’d been wearing when she’d left me had been torn off, leaving her breasts bare for anyone to see and that infuriated me. Her red hair was matted with blood, a large pool growing beneath her as she struggled to draw in one breath after another. Listless and pale, she looked like a ghost and that terrified me.

I rushed to her side, kneeling down and pressing my fingers against her skin, needing to touch her and convince myself that she was still alive. There was a wretchedly deep gash across her chest that still seeped with a steady flow of blood. Quickly, I pressed two fingers against the side of her neck, checking for a pulse.

For a moment, I felt nothing, and I began to panic. A strangled cry escaped my throat and I didn’t care if anyone nearby heard an alpha make a sound like that.

But wait. What was that?

There. A very weak heartbeat.

She was still alive. Praise the gods.

Fuck. What now?

I needed to help her. She needed me right now and I was going to save her, no matter what it cost.

Looking around, I searched for anything to stop the flow of blood. On the nearby table was a woven cream tablecloth. I grabbed at the edges of it and ripped it toward myself, not caring that I spilled food and drink on the floor as a result. I pressed the fabric against her wound, hoping that it would be enough to stem to flow of her lifeblood until I could get her stabilized away from the cusp of death.

The side of her head was already darkening with deep purple bruising, as was her ribcage. That man had hit her hard and when I lifted her eyelid to check to see if she was conscious, it was more than obvious that she wasn’t.

After that, I looked at the arm that was hanging by her side. It was turned at an awkward, unnatural angle and I knew immediately that it was dislocated. I quickly decided that I would deal with that now so moving her later wouldn’t worsen the injury. Lifting it with one hand, I twisted it hard and up, popping it back into place in one smooth motion. It would hurt her far more if she was awake and this way, it would simply be incredibly sore for a few days after she woke. I put pressure back on her wound and tried to decide what to do next.