Page 116 of Blood Fist
“I told you I needed your hate,” Sinestrus said as the void began shifting along the walls, undulating its way towards where Corric was kneeling. The shadow consumed him, sucking him into the black cold.
“But your pain is just as powerful.”
Shadow fingers dug into his chin, jerking his mouth open as the void slipped inside. Corric collapsed as the cold took him over. Ice crept up his skin, shooting out in every direction until the tunnel was covered in frost. Corric tried to scream, but his lungs were frozen. Flailing, he reached up only to see ice growing between his fingers. Pain lanced through his head like a sword. Closing his eyes, he tried to will his skull to stay together as the pain ramped up, throbbing through his body.
Memories flashed across his scrunched eyelids.
Corric as a child holding up a hand, giggling as he showed his mother a little snowflake spinning in the center of his palm.
His mother helping him craft little castles out of ice, clapping in delight when he could make them bigger and bigger.
Schok forced to apologize to him by their mother after he melted Corric’s favorite ice sculpture.
Then his mother, tearfully apologizing to him as she used her magic to seal his away. Locked a part of him, a part of his soul, into a deep dark corner of his mind where he would never remember. It hurt. More than anything he’d ever experienced—like his skin was being flayed from his bones. He cried, but his mother held strong as she locked away all knowledge of his magical ability.
Magic. Corric had magic.
Heels digging into the ground, Corric clawed at his head with frozen fingers as the ice filled his throat. He couldn’t scream as the magic flooded back into him, stronger now after years of growing. Untouched. Pure.
New visions fluttered past his eyes. Things he didn’t recognize, memories that are not his. Veins filling with shards of ice. The returning magic should have been like an old friend coming home, but it was too big, too much. A square peg forced into a round hole. Corric didn’t want it. His body rejected it, but the magic was stronger.
With a final chilly gasp, the magic took over. It crystalized across his skin, sealing itself in.
Frost clinging to his eyelashes, Corric desperately tried to find something to hold on to. Anything. He thought of twisted warm fingers and big brown eyes under a tangle of curls. Heart shattering in his frozen chest, Corric exhaled an icy plume.
Somewhere in the distance, Sinestrus laughed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THE TYLOCK INHERITANCE
Brune dropped his hands to his knees and took a deep breath. There was a pleasant hum in his muscles and a chill as the wind cooled the sweat from his skin. The days were growing colder, and this early morning was no different. The sun had only just risen, and the dew was still clinging to the ground. It was early by a lot of standards, but Brune had not noticed. Distraction had him fleeing his warm tent in search of something that would calm his mind.
Training with his shield had grown easier in all the time he’d held it. As Henroen had said, it had become a part of himself. Not quite an extension of his limb like a sword should be, but an extra limb. Hammer, too. Even after all the use he’d gotten from it, the handle was still perfect. It slid into his palm like it was made for him. Perhaps it had been.
Chief Restrina seemed to believe the Maladon’s Aegis was waiting for him. Crafted by a stranger so long ago and yet melded to Brune. The hammer could be the same, its maker guided by fate to create something hethought wholly original in concept, only to find its way to Brune. Like it was meant to.
If you had asked Brune about fate before he’d left Kaldonea, he probably wouldn’t have an answer. He didn’t ponder things like that back then. Fate was too grand a concept to fit between the walls of the city. He drifted like a leaf in the wind, letting everything around him guide him to where he was supposed to be. His thoughts were never bigger than the next meal. The next day. He lived where his feet carried him.
Which might be fate, after all.
Something guided Brune to where he was now. A member of the clan, a warrior with a purpose, a life he wanted to live.
And an omega he wanted to share it with.
Even now, thinking about that night had Brune blushing red. He’d caught his breath, but just picturing Ridan’s wry smirk and firebrand eyes had him breathless all over again. Of all the people in the world, Ridan’s desire was Brune. He’d let him touch, whisper promises into his ear, and kiss the doubts from his lips.
From the day Brune had seen Ridan crest that hill, teeth bared, and sword held aloft, he had been his fate.
Brune’s hand dropped to his sweaty neck. His sweatybareneck. It was a constant reminder of what he’d turned down. His alpha chafed at the decision. Every time Ridan was out of sight, his alpha whined that he could be stolen away from him.
But he was more than his alpha, and even if the decision to wait was painful, it was still the right one. Ridan deserved better. He might have pretended that Jonen’s courting gift was irrelevant or that he wasn’t just as invested in Osmond asking Niklas, but Brune had smelled the interest, thedesire,in his sweet pepper scent. Ridan had grown up looking at the teeth on hisfather’s sword, hearing how his mother had fought and won his dam’s respect. He deserved no less.
Which was all well and good, but Brune had no idea how to do that. Courting culture was individualistic. No two suits looked the same. And as a point of pride, alphas rarely asked for advice—the whole point was to prove their devotion and capabilities as an alpha. Getting help would be like cheating. Just considering asking for advice had Brune’s stomach twisting uncomfortably.
No, he had to do this on his own.
Sighing, he stood to his full height and stretched. Something popped in his shoulder, and he grunted, swinging his arm around until the twinge subsided. Refastening his shield and hammer, he left the training grounds just as the clan awakened. Hearths were warmed and the first smells of breakfast began wafting in the air.