Page 55 of Eternal Light (Fated in the Stars #5)

Unity in Purpose (Jay)

Jay cannot take his eyes off Rowan-wolf, suspended thirty feet above the stone platform—lips pulled back over his monstrous teeth in a snarl, eyes flashing red as he’s held immobile over the stone rampart.

There are a multitude of ways this can go, and not one involves Withers setting Rowan down gently. Grayson has the fuckhead suitably distracted, their previous grotesque flirting having devolved into a magical dick measuring contest.

Jay wishes he could watch his mate use his new skills to win the battle of wits, but he has to shift all of his skills into something more immediate.

He needs to figure out how he can use the shimmering platform of air Grayson has created as a springboard—something strong enough to launch him high enough, fast enough, to catch Rowan when Withers inevitably lets him fall.

“So what now? There are three of us and only one of you,” Grayson taunts, and Jay knows that this is it. The moment when Withers cuts his losses and takes Rowan off the board.

“Right you are; maybe I should even the odds a bit more?”

Before Jay can truly process it, Rowan is over the edge of the platform and falling.

At the same time, there’s a flash in his periphery from a snake of light attached to Grayson’s hand that follows him over, taking Grayson with it.

It’s not slow motion at all for Jay as his mates’ lives flash before his eyes, an involuntary roar of fear echoing in his ears.

The energy he’d kept in reserve to make the vertical jump upward to save Rowan from a deadly fall is transformed into horizontal momentum.

Throwing himself toward the edge, he slides along the rough stone of the rampart on his belly, grabbing for the second rope of fire and light as it extends upward from Grayson’s other hand.

Jay does not hesitate to grab it, groaning as he’s dragged forward, scrabbling until he can sink his claws into the granite surface and get his feet wedged against the low stone wall.

It’s pure agony.

The downward momentum of more than four hundred pounds is pulling at his wounded shoulder, and the fire of Grayson’s magical tether sears through his body in waves from where it’s wrapped around his forearm.

Heart pounding, Jay feels a claw tear away—and yet it’s nothing compared to the heart-wrenching fear.

Withers takes a single step toward them, anticipation etched into his features. Intent on pushing Jay off or getting a closer look at the fear on Jay’s face.

He gets no closer than a single step before Finn covers the distance in seconds, taking Withers to the ground. With a single vicious swipe, Withers’s peach polo is split from neck to navel, leaving a deep gash in his opponent’s skin before Finn goes for his eyes.

In all the years he’s known Finn, Jay has never seen his wolf like this—fangs bared, alpha eyes glowing red, and a low, protective growl that raises the hair on the back of his neck.

As Finn brings his hand down to tear open Withers’s throat, a heavy wave of air throws his mate off his chest and backward, slamming him into the low wall. There’s a loud crack as his head is flung against the stone, leaving a smear of blood on its surface as he slumps to the side.

“Finn!” Jay shouts, but his mate is out cold, his blood bright red as it drips down his forehead.

“Oh, this is delectable,” Withers crows, flinging his head back and his arms to the sky. “Look at all this suffering. One down and three to go.”

The pressure on his arm suddenly lessens as Grayson uses air to support some of their weight. His relief is brief as he watches Rowan painfully climb up the fiery tether until he can wrap his arms around Grayson’s neck.

“I can’t lift us both, Rowan.” Grayson’s voice carries upward on the wind. “It’s too hard, but if you can get to Jay, I can teleport up the rest of the way. Can you do that?”

There’s a second where Jay thinks Rowan is going to shake his head, but he nods and starts to climb, wincing as he grabs onto the fiery tether with already blistered hands.

He’s proud of his mate, as Jay knows full well the burning agony he’s feeling. It’s one thing to persist through the pain, but another entirely to endure it all over again after you’d had respite.

“Come on, you can do it,” Jay murmurs, knowing Rowan can’t hear him over Withers cackling and the wind.

The words are as much for himself as for his struggling mate—a mantra to keep him focused as the strain of Rowan’s climb sends sharp twinges through his shoulder.

Grayson maintains the fiery magic tether, its heat thrumming between them, unwavering until Rowan’s hands finally clamp around Jay’s wrist.

Relief floods him as the fiery pressure dissipates and a warm presence appears at his side. Together, he and Grayson haul Rowan up onto the patio.

Jay doesn’t waste a second. The instant Rowan is safe, his focus snaps to Withers, who has finally ceased his incessant monologue on Jay’s suffering to get a closer look at his handiwork.

Looming over Finn, he has a hand pressed to the top of his mate’s unconscious head, and fury surges through Jay’s veins.

Despite the residual agony, he clears the short space between them, grasping the magic user by the hair and hauling him backward, dragging him away.

Flinging off Jay’s hand, Withers pushes him back with a wall of air.

“Who do you think you are? Keep your hands to yourself, or I’ll remove them.”

He adjusts his torn and bloody shirt and cracks his neck, without losing the pressure of air holding Jay back.

“Handsome, the Big Bad Wolf needs to go,” he says to Grayson, who is trying to stem the flow of blood from Finn’s head with the button-down he’d worn over his T-shirt.

He looks up at the sky and frowns. “Now look at what you’ve done. We’re almost out of time; it figures Carnell couldn’t be on time if his life depended on it.”

The irony is completely lost on him, but he smiles suddenly at Jay, the light of madness practically a light bulb over his head.

“But you’ll do nicely instead.”

The wall of air holding Jay back collapses, sending him stumbling forward. He uses the momentum to lunge at Withers—but the bastard sidesteps easily, shoving Jay toward the altar.

In a blink, he’s forced down, flat on his back, iron shackles locking his wrists and ankles to the cold stone.

With a roar, Jay pulls on the restraints, only to feel them cut into his burned flesh like knives. The harder he fights the enchanted restraints, the tighter they become.

“I’d stop that if I were you—unless you want to lose your hands? No?” Withers mocks and bends to pick up his fallen book.

“All I need is a strong wolf. One who leads. One who rules his domain. It’s not ideal, of course,” he says, as if Jay has disappointed him by forcing him to settle.

“But I suppose a good alpha’s heart is better than none. It would be best if you cooperated, but I can make you, if you’d rather.”

Jay snarls and pushes back against his bonds. “Go fuck yourself.”

“Hmm. No, thank you. Not when there will be so many handsome faces to choose from lat—”

His voice is cut off with a piercing shriek as the skin begins to melt from his face, the flesh falling away in chunks, leaving charred bone and sinew.

It doesn’t last long, as Withers stops the traveling invisible flames with a deluge of water, but by then, the damage is done.

Floating over the ground, his hair swirling in the wind, with his eyes glowing red, Grayson is every bit the warrior Nimue had named him.

His voice carries an undeniable command across the distance. “Release him. He is mine.”

Withers rises to his feet, and the scent of burnt, rotting meat makes Jay hold down a surge of bile.

“Well, Handsome. I’m sorry to say that I don’t think it’s going to work out between us. I should have swiped left.”

He sighs as he flattens the few pieces of charred hair still left on his head.

Grayson tenses, raising his hands to send another wave of magic, when Withers holds up his hand directly over Jay’s chest.

“If you move a finger, I’ll turn his blood to ice. It’s something new I’ve been working on since I leveled up. Cuts all the blood vessels from the inside out. Riveting to watch, and I can just as easily take his heart as he dies.”

Rowan-wolf growls at the deadly threat from his crouched position, with only Grayson’s restraining hand holding him back from charging.

“I’ll never get anything accomplished at this rate. Dude, I think we need some private time, don’t you?” Withers says conversationally, his tone mocking.

In the next instant, the air around them solidifies, forming a shimmering, impenetrable cage. The sound of Finn’s shout is muffled, reduced to a faint echo.

Despite Withers’s dire threat, Rowan-wolf slams into the barrier with everything he has—teeth bared and claws battering against the invisible wall, his growls guttural and raw.

Grayson steps forward, too, red eyes blazing with determination. Flames burst from his hands, each blast brighter and fiercer than the last as they strike the barrier.

The air ripples under the onslaught, but the cage holds.

He doesn’t stop until his legs give out beneath him.

Catching him, Finn pulls him close as Grayson’s tears streak his face. His magic is spent, his body trembling with the effort, but his gaze remains fixed on the cage—fury etched into every line of his face.

Jay’s rage roars through him as he pulls again on his restraints, finally stopping when he feels the iron press against the fragile bones of his wrists.

“That should give us all the time we need. Now, how about we make a deal, big guy?” he says to Jay, crossing his arms. “Let’s see if you can resist me.”