Pack of Wolves - Maggie Claire (most popular novels of all time .TXT) 📗

I feel heat rise in the storm surrounding me, the winds spiraling into an uncontrollable mania as the voice inside me cackles wildly. Siri hoists my numb body out of the violent winds I have created. Easy now, Siri murmurs in my mind, her voice stealing its way into the mysterious words of death and destruction. The Windwalker magic comes with a price, Iris. It can drive the user insane!

I wish you’d stopped me sooner, I reply as I struggle to quell the chaos inside me to a faint whisper. My skin feels raw, as if I’ve just scalded every inch of it by draping over a steaming tea kettle. Parts of my flesh are openly pouring blood; other dry areas crackle audibly when I move.

“These wounds will not heal through our bond, I fear. Your Windwalker magic stops me from aiding you,” Siri whispers regretfully, focusing on her flight back to the waiting Ddraigs and Cadogans. “We will find oil and animal fat to cover your wounds and rehydrate your skin. I fear some of these dry patches might leave scars, but maybe they will remind you of your limits.”

When she gently drops me to the ground, Suryc immediately appears, nuzzling Siri’s cheek affectionately. “Thank the gods you are safe. Were you followed?” If Siri answers, I do not hear her words.

He let me go, my heart cries as I curl into a ball on the ground and try not to scratch my bleeding skin. In every sense of the word. There is no turning back for me now. I tremble in response, fearing my voice will betray me.

“I think I am glad you are safe,” Cyrus mumbles feebly as he slowly rises from his hiding place a few feet away from me. “It is really you, isn’t it?” He moves disjointedly, as though his limbs have forgotten how to follow his brain’s commands. “And you are truly alive? I’ve…I’ve watched you die many times.” His words sound hollow as he holds out a hand to me.

I expected to feel a lot of things when I finally saw him free. The rush of anger flooding my heart, however, was not at the top of the list. I shove Cyrus hard as he moves closer to me, finally falling apart as my fists connect feebly to his chest. A howl so strongly overpowers me that I shove us both into the dirt. Cyrus—my enemy, my broken childhood friend, my abuser, and my second in command.

Cyrus lets me pummel him without a comment until my fury finally stills its strikes. I can feel his body quivering under my attack, and that knowledge only heaps more wretchedness onto my head. In the end, I think I do more damage to my hands than I ever could have done to him. I lean hard onto his chest as I wail, and Cyrus’s arms instinctively wrap around me. So familiar; if I close my eyes, I could fall into the trap of believing I am with Wolf once more. I can let my mind remember the days when life seemed simpler in the House of Vultures.

It’s the scent of Cyrus’s clothing that jars me back to reality; he smells of crisp, autumn days and wood smoke. The scent reminds me of cool, cloudless nights, when I’d set up camp outside just to glimpse the night sky. It was one of the few indulgences I could allow myself to have in the House of Vultures, a means of finding peace in a terrifying world.

“I still hate you,” I whimper, even as I realize that’s a lie. This world brings out the worst of us all, and I do not blame Cyrus any more than I hate myself for all the wrong I’ve done.

“I know,” Cyrus replies sadly, even as he strokes my hair, carefully tucking a few loose strands behind my ears. So similar to his brother, it’s unnerving.

“You took everything from me,” I accuse, brushing the chapped scars that crisscross my wrists from the days when Cyrus had me thrown into the traitor binds. “But I never wanted you to suffer like this.”

“I am sorry too.” The steady thumping of Cyrus’s heart attempts to dull my resolve. I cannot seem to pull myself free of my bitterness. Still, human contact, even with someone like Cyrus, is what I need in this moment. My eyes drift closed as I allow myself to steal this moment of comfort in the arms of my once enemy.

***

“Fox? Is that really you?” I question, feeling a little stunned as he stands beside a reddish brown Ddraig. “I thought—”

“That I would stay loyal to him?” A grateful swell of emotion fills my heart as he continues. “I reached the point when I, too, could no longer ignore the atrocities he was committing.”

“Iris!” Grouse babbles excitedly as she gives me a quick hug. Bittern and Goldeneye stand behind her, both seemingly pleased by my appearance in the Ddraig camp. “We had just come up with a plan to escape Wolf’s clutches, but your methods were far better! What are these creatures? One of them seems to have taken a liking to me—”

“Grouse, give her a minute,” Goldeneye chides, pulling her back to his side.

“Okay, Swampy,” she grumbles, a glitter of mischief in her eyes. They take off running after each other, leaving me with Bittern and Fox. Sensing my mood, Fox pats my shoulder before silently moving off with his Ddraig, leaving me to reunite with my old friend.

“Still alive,” Bittern muses, blushing slightly as she realizes she’s stating the obvious. That’s when I notice that she’s already completed the Dadeni bonds with a Ddraig. A white, beige, and black streaked creature stands behind Bittern, her tail flicking nervously as she watches the scene. “We’re fine, Nepsa. Leave us.”

“Goldeneye and Grouse?” I wonder aloud, recalling Grouse’s words about a Ddraig preferring her.

“Just me. They are companionable with the Ddraigs, but not bonded like I am.” Bittern—Aspen, I deduce from her