“It’s too comical. The monster huntress a monster’s mate?” He chuckled.
She loved Jacob’s laugh. It sounded cultured, as gentlemanly as everything else about him.
He hailed from a wealthy line of British barons. Unfortunately, his father and uncle—younger sons with no chance of inheritance—had moved their families to Prosperity, a settlement in the Canadian wilderness.
A wilderness rife with Wendigos. Those monsters had slain Jacob’s family in horrific ways, driving him and his surviving uncle into the Night War.
Not long after the two had joined the circus, Jacob had strayed too far from the fairgrounds. Luckily, she’d been in the woods herself. When a viper shifter had targeted him, she’d saved Jacob’s life with her blade. They’d been inseparable ever since.
“Well, what do you say?” he asked with his usual jolly-good-show tone. “Shall I do the honors?”
She smiled up at him. “Thank you for the offer, but mate-icide is in my future. The Lykae is my kill to make.”
Jacob frowned. “Why does everything onerous or gritty have to fall to you?”
Her parents’ voices echoed in her mind: We fight evil immortals wherever and however we can. That is our noble duty. Ren shrugged. “Because that’s my lot.” She’d accepted it.
“Hmm.” As quickly as his frown had appeared, his brow grew smooth once more. “Well, you know you have my support.”
“I know I do, Jake.” He was a dear man who never had an unkind word to say about anyone and who considered Puideleu and Vanda to be his own grandparents.
Now that Ren and Jacob had married, she expected her love for him to grow and change. They were two oaks now free to intertwine. With that in mind, she rose on her toes to give him a quick kiss. So pleasant. “Let’s get this over with and return to our wedding night.”
Another blush as he said, “Yes, let’s.” He gave her an encouraging nod. “Right by your side, Ren. Always.”
The torch-bearing hunters that had gathered for the execution parted to let her and Jacob through.
The wolf’s long body was stretched out beside the trench. As soon as Ren decapitated him, others would kick his headless corpse down among the pikes.
She drew closer. Rain had washed away much of the blood on the Lykae’s face. In the torchlight, his features appeared chiseled. Proud, straight nose. Wide jawline. Strong, cleft chin.
And that body. Aside from his chest wound, it was flawless. As raindrops danced over his rigid muscles, something like elation pulsed through her. What is happening to me?
Björn handed Ren a sword, and she moved into position. Yet as she raised her weapon, the Lykae’s right hand twitched. Maybe he was dreaming about his home in Louisiana.
Protectiveness toward this deluded male welled inside her. Who was he and how had he known her name? Damn it, why did he believe they were fated? Once she ended him, she’d never have answers to her questions.
Trish muttered, “What a waste.” Others nodded in agreement.
“What are you waiting for, boss?” Björn asked.
Everything in Ren balked at the idea of slaughtering this creature in cold blood.
With her thick Russian accent, Olga said, “Keel him, boss. Before he vakes.”
Jacob said, “The blade works for hours.”
“Then keel him so vee can get to the banquet. Some of us vould like to eat.”
“Ren?” Jacob quietly queried.
The circus didn’t harm immortals unless they preyed on humans. But the wolf did plan to prey on Ren, forcing her to be his female. And Jacob would be in danger as long as this monster lived. As her mother had taught her: Never get between a Lykae and his mate.
Mate. Surely a fated tie between an immortal and a human wasn’t possible. Had he planned to turn her undying? She shuddered. That was her worst fear.
Her parents had shared that fear. A flash memory arose of finding their bodies in the woods with monster corpses all around. . . .
She bit the inside of her cheek, forcing herself out of that memory into the present. If this Lykae was determined to end her freedom, she had no choice but to end his life.
Whenever she let a blade fly, she all but entered a trance. Sounds faded away. Peripheral sights grew muted until her vision became a tunnel of focus on the bull’s-eye. Over the years, she’d begun to view all of her goals with that undivided concentration.
Right now, her target was to ensure her freedom. She adjusted her grip on her sword. Time to kill a wolf.
FIVE
Consciousness returned in a rush.
As Munro’s eyes opened, he saw his mate standing over him. Alive. So alive. For a moment, he feared this was a hallucination and that he’d awaken to find her melting in acid.
Then he realized he lay on the ground beside a pit. His female held a raised sword—and she looked bloody determined.
His eyes narrowed; hers widened. She gave a yell and swung. He rolled into her, just missing the sword. It sank into the mud and wedged there as she tumbled over him, dress flying. He snared her inches above a pike in the pit.