Marked (The Coldest Fae Book 3) by Katerina Martinez (novel24 .txt) 📗

the strength I’d used that day to block the sledgehammer from turning me into a pancake—I kept his head pressed against the dirt and pinned his shoulders down with my knees.

Praxis was still kicking, still trying to grab hold of me, but there was a force at work here even he wasn’t strong enough to stand up against. I couldn’t understand it myself, but it felt like the light of the full moon was making me stronger, more powerful. The tattoo on the back of my hand glimmered against the moonlight, and I felt… anger. Passionate, powerful anger, and that made me even stronger somehow.

The fae watched, but I wasn’t watching them. I had only Praxis in my mind. Keep him down, keep him pinned, watch his consciousness slip through his fat fingers. I didn’t let him go when he stopped moving, kicking, struggling. I held him down, driven by the anger burning inside of me.

I’d laughed it off when he’d suggested he would do horrible things to me once he won the challenge, but it had scared me. It had scared me because I thought he could do it. Would do it. Would enjoy doing it, too. I wanted him to know I had beaten him; I wanted him to really feel it, to push him to within an inch of his life and then—Ashera knocked me on my ass.

“Are you meaning to kill him?!” she hissed.

I stared at her, then at the large mound in the dirt that was Praxis, panting. “Is he dead?” I asked.

The Alpha knelt beside her packmate and touched her fingers to his throat. She then pulled his face out of the dirt, and looked at me. “He lives, barely.”

“Serves him right for challenging me like that.”

“Had you killed him, we would’ve had to kill you, as our traditions demand.”

“But I didn’t.” I got up. “I beat him, and that means I take his place in the pack, right?”

Ashera stared at me, but said nothing.

“That’s how our people work, isn’t it?” I asked. I spun around and looked at all the fae gathered nearby. I was running hot, adrenaline burning in my bloodstream like fire in my veins.

My eyes met with Mira, who was standing next to Toross. I wasn’t sure where they’d come from, but they both looked shocked. Neither of them spoke. Nobody else spoke. I wasn’t sure what I had expected would happen next. Maybe applause, maybe a cheer. It would’ve been nice, but instead there was only stone-cold silence and stunned faces.

Nobody had expected me to win that fight.

Neither had I.

“You are right,” Ashera said, “You have taken Praxis’ place as my number three.”

When I turned to look at her, she’d bowed her head. “Thank you,” I said. Then I pointed at the Prince, throwing caution to the wind. “I am the white wolf,” I yelled, “There is a prophecy that says I’m going to lead our people out of the darkness and into the light. That man over there is Cillian, he is the Prince of Windhelm… and he is also my mate.”

The fae gasped and parted, making a hole inside of which Prince Cillian stood alone. “What?!” Ashera hissed. “You brought the Prince of that wretched city here?!”

“I did, and I lied to you about it because I couldn’t risk you killing him simply because he is who he is. But now that I’ve marked him as my mate, if you want to kill him, you’ll have to kill me first.”

“Do you think that I can’t?!” Ashera growled.

“No, but I think that you won’t because you know you need me.”

She advanced on me. “I know no such thing,” she said, and she wound back her arm as if to strike me, but Toross stood in front of me.

“Ashera, no,” he said.

The Alpha stared at him, glared at him. “Who do you think you are to get between me and my prey?”

“I am your Beta,” he said, “And she is your third, not prey. You’re making a mistake.”

“You would put your life in front of hers?”

He nodded. “She is the white wolf, Ash. You know it’s true.”

“Even if it’s true, she had no right to bring that filth in here.”

“Maybe not, but she has invoked our traditions. He is her mate. To kill him, you must kill her, and to kill her, you must kill me. Are you willing to do that?”

The Alpha scowled, and for a moment I thought she was going to strike, but she turned on her heel and stormed off. It didn’t take long before the other fae cleared the way, leaving only a handful of us behind, and Praxis face down in the dirt.

“Toross, you—”

“—don’t speak,” he said, cutting me off. “Take him and go until she calms down.”

I wanted to speak, it was my instinct to speak, but I bit my tongue and took what felt like a long walk over to the Prince, passing Mel, Mira, and Gullie on the way. I wasn’t sure if they were proud of me or terrified. In truth, I wasn’t sure how I felt either. I’d just won a victory, but it felt strangely hollow.

Wordless, I took Cillian’s hand and led him away from this place.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

 

 

“That was… interesting,” Cillian said, once we’d made it to his tent. I shut the flap and pinned it closed. It wouldn’t exactly stop our voices from carrying unless we kept them low, but it would keep prying eyes out of our business, at least. I’d already had enough attention for one day.

Or a week.

I sat down on the bed and dug my face into my hands. “I told them who you were,” I said. “I can’t believe I just did… any of that.”

“What happened?” he asked, “I heard the commotion and came out to see, but I don’t know how it started.”

I shook my head and sighed. “Praxis had heard me talking to the others about you, and… him. He tackled me as I came out of the