Page 28 of Alokar (The Alliance Rescue #2)
Ewok
I could feel myself changing. My blood pumped molten steel through my veins, muscles swelling and rippling as they readied for battle.
My father, Daicon, told me once that fighting for one’s mate strengthens you.
This was no longer a fight for vengeance or to deliver justice.
Yaard had dared to touch Hannah. He would die for it.
I followed Hannah’s scent through the forest, catching precious snippets of it on the leaves of small bushes or the rough bark of the trees. She was marking the path for me. My brilliant, brave mate.
I tracked her for miles as she ascended the mountain.
Leaving the dense foliage behind for jagged rocky crags and sharp outcroppings.
Hannah’s scent was sweet, but acrid with fear, and it made my heart clench with rage.
I’d lost the faint whiff of Yaard’s scent I’d caught before, but the smell of rotting carrion remained overwhelming.
Without a doubt the bastard had my mate.
When I arrived at an area riddled with small dens and caves, Hannah’s scent completely evaporated, leaving only the suffocating musk of animals and decay to fill the air.
Despite her essence fading, something deep in my bones told me she wasn’t far.
It was more than intuition—a magnetic pull that seemed to vibrate through my very core, an invisible thread connecting us.
Every nerve ending hummed with the certainty of her presence.
“Hannah!” I roared her name. I knew Yaard hadn’t killed her yet. No, he’d want to do it while I watched, savoring my anguish.
The only answer I received came in the form of birds shrieking as they took panicked flight and the frantic scamper of tiny feet as small animals fled the upcoming carnage.
Then the forest went quiet. Too quiet. As if the wilderness held its breath, dreading the battle to come.
“Ewok!”
Hannah’s scream shattered the silence, my attention jerking in her direction just in time to see Yaard leap from behind a pile of boulders, swinging a massive bone like a war club.
I dodged his swing easily thanks to the warning from my mate. Yaard had not trained as a warrior, but he was desperate and cornered, which made him a deadly opponent.
He swung again, and I rolled to the side as Yaard’s bone club smashed into the ground, sending rock fragments flying. He stood almost as tall as me, his massive frame casting a shadow across the rocky clearing, but size meant nothing if you couldn’t land a hit.
“Little princeling, all grown up. You will be the one who dies today.” Yaard snarled, spittle flying from his yellowed fangs. “And then I will feast upon your mate!”
Rage flooded my veins. I lunged forward, claws extended, aiming for his throat. Yaard swung the club in a wide arc, forcing me to duck low. The bone whistled over my head as I changed my tactics and swept his legs, sending him stumbling backward.
He recovered faster than I expected, bringing the club down in a vicious overhead strike. I caught his wrist with both hands, our muscles straining against each other. His breath reeked of rotting meat and madness.
“She will watch you die,” he growled, pushing down with all his weight. “And I will taste her flesh.”
“You will be the one who dies today,” I promised.
I twisted sharply, using his momentum against him, and drove my knee into his ribs. The satisfying crack of bone echoed through the clearing. Yaard roared in pain and fury, backhanding me across the face with his free hand. Stars exploded across my vision as I stumbled.
The club came at me again. This time I wasn’t fast enough. It caught me on the shoulder, sending me sprawling. Pain shot down my arm, but I rolled away just as the club smashed into the stone where my head had been seconds before.
“Ewok!” Hannah’s voice rang out, a mix of terror and determination. I swung my gaze to her, only for a second, but long enough to catch her rattled appearance and notice the bruise forming along the side of her face.
Yaard dared to touch her... to hurt her.
I sprang to my feet, blood trickling from cuts on my face and hands.
Yaard circled me like a predator, the bone club dripping with my blood.
I studied him the way my father, Daicon, had taught me, watching his movements, even the cadence of his breath.
I could see it now—the slight favor he was giving his left side where I’d broken his ribs.
The way his breathing had turned ragged.
Time to end this.
I feinted left, then dove right as he swung. My claws found their mark, raking across his thigh and opening four deep gashes. Yaard screamed and stumbled, dark blood streaming down his leg.
“My turn,” I growled.
I grabbed a jagged rock and hurled it at his face. He raised the club to block it, and in that split second of distraction, I was on him. My claws sank deep into his chest as we crashed to the ground, rolling and clawing at each other like the wild beasts we were.
Yaard tried to bring the club around, but we were too close now. I grabbed his wrist and slammed it against the rocks until his grip loosened, and the bone club fell from his grip.
“You fight well for a youngling.” Yaard’s voice dripped with grudging respect as he clambered to his feet, his chest heaving as crimson rivulets traced down his scarred hide. The admission seemed to surprise even him.
“My adopted father taught me well,” I snarled, my voice a guttural rasp as we prowled in a deadly circle, muscles coiled like springs.
“And your pathetic Earth mother?” His muzzle contorted into a mask of revulsion, yellowed fangs gleaming. “What poison did that weak creature pour into your mind?”
His fist crashed into my jaw with bone-jarring force, stars exploding across my vision. I retaliated instantly, my claws raking deep furrows across his forearm, painting the stone beneath us with his lifeblood.
“My mother taught me that kindness and gentleness burn brighter than any warrior’s rage,” I growled through gritted teeth.
We collided again in a savage dance of violence—fists like hammers, claws like daggers, each impact echoing off the canyon walls like thunder.
“My mother taught me that every soul in the universe deserves freedom and happiness in equal measure.” My words came between brutal exchanges, punctuated by the wet sound of flesh meeting flesh, our bodies slamming together with a primal fury before breaking apart, both of us bloodied and breathing hard.
From nearby, I could hear Hannah’s faint moan of pain every time Yaard landed a blow.
“My mother taught me to listen, to honor the voices of others even when they whisper truths I don’t want to hear.”
We crashed together once more, a whirlwind of desperate strikes and defensive blocks, the metallic taste of blood coating my tongue.
“But above all else,” I locked eyes with him, my voice dropping to a lethal whisper, “my human mother taught me the power of love.” My gaze flicked to Hannah, pressed against the boulder with a jagged bone shard clutched in her trembling hands like a makeshift blade.
“I love Hannah. And because you dared to lay your hands on her, you will die.”
Yaard’s eyes went wide with hatred and desperation. He reached for a sharp stone with his free hand.
I didn’t give him the chance to use it. With a roar, I wrapped my arms around his torso and lifted him off the ground. Yaard thrashed wildly, clawing at my face and shoulders, but my grip was durasteel. I could feel his ribs grinding against my forearms as I squeezed tighter.
Then, with all the fury of a mate protecting what was his, I brought him down hard across my knee.
The crack of his spine breaking was like thunder echoing off the mountains.
Yaard’s scream cut off abruptly, his body going limp as his eyes glazed over.
Yet words, along with a trickle of blood, continued to pour from his mouth.
“You fool. You stupid fool. You cannot stop me, even in death. Alliance rule is coming to an end. The consortium is everywhere.”
“Ewok!” Hannah’s voice tore through the air like a battle cry, jerking my attention from Yaard’s dying ramblings. A heartbeat later, she came hurtling toward me—a blur of desperate motion—crashing into my arms with such force it nearly knocked the breath from my lungs.
I crushed her against my chest, my face buried deep in the curve of her neck, and I inhaled her scent like a drowning man gasping for air.
She reeked of terror-sweat and the putrid musk of rotting pelts Yaard had draped over her to mask her precious scent, but beneath it all was the intoxicating essence that was purely, uniquely Hannah.
Nothing else mattered. Not the blood streaming down my face, not the fire burning in my muscles, not even Yaard’s labored breathing behind us. Only this—my mate alive and whole in my arms.
Dirt streaked her face like war paint, purple bruises bloomed across her pale skin, and her hair hung in wild tangles—yet she remained the most beautiful creature I’d ever beheld.
In her white-knuckled grip, she clutched a massive bone, its tip snapped off and honed to a lethal point that gleamed like a polished blade.
My brave, resourceful mate.
"I'm sorry, my love," I said, my voice rough with regret, the words scraping against my throat like gravel.
"Why?" She glanced up at me, her gray eyes shimmering with unshed tears that caught the light like dewdrops on morning grass. "You came for me. I knew you would."
"Always," I promised, my fingertip trembling as I traced the delicate curve of her jaw, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath my touch. "But it was my ineptitude that put you in this danger."
A small frown creased her brow, creating tiny lines between her eyebrows as confusion clouded her features. "I don't understand."
I sighed deeply, the weight of failure churning in my gut. "Yaard tracked us the entire time we were hunting him. The grizzly I kept catching scent of was him—the grizzly that killed Rodney--I didn't recognize his deception, and it put you in danger."
"Are you kidding?" Hannah's frown deepened, but there was a tinge of amusement dancing at the corners of her mouth. "He stunk like shit. Not even your impressive nose could have told the difference. No one could."
"Then you do not blame me?" I ventured, my voice barely above a whisper, hope and fear warring in my chest.
"No." Hannah smiled then, a radiant expression that seemed to chase away the shadows from her face, her free hand coming up to cup my cheek with gentle fingers that felt like silk against my stubbled skin. "You came for me Ewok. You saved me. That makes you a hero in my book."
I wondered about this book she spoke of but decided to leave it till later. I nodded toward the improvised weapon held tight in her hand, pride swelling in my chest until it threatened to crack my ribs. “The killing blow is yours,” I growled, my voice rough with emotion. “To avenge your father.”
Hannah’s gray eyes dropped to where Yaard lay sprawled and broken, still spewing his poisonous words through blood-frothed lips.
A shadow crossed her features—grief, rage, and something deeper warring in her expression.
Then, like dawn breaking over a battlefield, the tension melted from her shoulders.
The weight of vengeance, the crushing burden of loss, seemed to evaporate from her frame like morning mist.
When those beautiful gray eyes met mine again, a small smile curved her lips. She took my hand, unheeding the blood dripping from my claws, and placed it over hers where she gripped the bone, our fingers interlacing.
“Together.”
The single word resonated through my very soul, carrying the weight of a thousand promises.
This wasn’t just about ending Yaard’s reign of terror—this was about us.
About the promise of the life we would build from the ashes of this nightmare.
I didn’t know how, I didn’t know how long it would take, but somehow Hannah and I would be together.
“Together,” I repeated, the word a sacred vow falling from my lips.
As one, we drove the sharpened bone deep into Yaard’s heart. His eyes went wide with shock, then empty as the last breath rattled from his throat. We didn’t just end a monster’s life—we found peace, purpose, and hope for our future written in the silence that followed.