Chapter 23

Like the first sparring session, Sylvie forced two more shifters to tap out and knocked another unconscious.

Unlike Natalie, though, the recent fighters had gotten in some kicks, one even splitting Sylvie’s brow, but she forced them to continue despite Rowan’s low growl from the sidelines.

“Treat me like everyone else,” she had begged. And they did. Her bruised ribs and tender jaw proved it.

“Alright,” Josiah, the elder in charge of the betting, called the remaining fighters over. Two males and one other female, who, of course, had to be Claudine stood in front of him.

“Sylvie will fight Claudine, and Jeremiah will fight Aiden. The winners from this round can choose whether to tie or take the chance. Rules are the same. Enter your squares when you’re ready.”

Kian appeared out of nowhere, pulling Sylvie to the side with a curious expression. “Look at you, my little warrior. What are you doing?”

“I dunno,” she said with a wince, his hug slightly too tight. “But I’m gonna finish it.”

A surge of adrenaline passed from his arms to her, and she smiled at him. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Now be careful, or Rowan is going to have an aneurysm.”

Over Kian’s shoulder, Sylvie spied Rowan suppressing a scowl as Rosie chatted beside him animately. She pulled her gaze away before his eyes found hers and spun to face a sneering Claudine.

“Let’s finish this.”

“Don’t underestimate her,” Kian breathed softly against the shell of her ear. Sylvie smiled and brushed his cheek with her fingers.

“Never.”

The second her feet entered the square, Claudine was on her. Her fists flew rapidly for every bruised spot on Sylvie’s body. Unable to return a hit, Sylvie shoved Claudine back and shook her head to clear it. Then, another surge of adrenaline hit her, and she spat a glob of blood from her mouth.

“What? Giving up already?”

“Not a chance.” Sylvie sprung forward, feigning a punch to the face before dodging right and gripping Claudine’s wrist, twisting it around and forcing the other woman to the ground. From her back, Claudine kicked her feet, clipping Sylvie’s knee and rolled away as Sylvie fell in a heap.

She jumped up quickly after trying not to hobble from the sharp pain in her thigh, and they circled again.

Punching, evading, kicking and parrying, both women heaved breaths into their lungs as the round stretched longer and longer. Soon both grappled on the ground, each landing a few elbows and knees as they curled around each other, looking for a Tapout opportunity.

Claudine landed far more hits, but with Kian’s added adrenaline coursing through her, Sylvie grew numb to the impacts, only focusing on finding a way to stop her.

“You won’t win.” Claudine twisted and grabbed a chunk of Sylvie’s hair, twisting her head back and exposing her throat. Her other arm reached around to choke her, but Sylvie twisted at the last second and yanked her head away while turning and throwing a punch straight at her nose. Claudine’s head flew back while blood shot forward, coating them both in slick, hot crimson, and Sylvie blinked.

She shot forward on hands and knees, aiming for another blow when a cloud of dirt flew into her eyes, blinding her, and a teeth-rattling hit crunched into her throat.

The wind whooshed from her body as she flew onto her back, her mouth gaping as she desperately sucked in slivers of air still mingling with dust plumes. Shouts and animal roars filled her ears as someone or something blocked the light behind her lids, and she struck out, hoping she’d somehow keep Claudine off her.

No way could she let that bitch win.

“It’s me,” a deep voice said, their minty breath hitting her face and clearing some dust. “Get her out of here now.” It said then.

“No, wait,” Sylvie’s voice came out strangled. She wasn’t done. She didn’t want anyone to touch her or take her anywhere. It wasn’t fair. The fight wasn’t over.

“Move back,” Kian’s voice echoed from her side.

“Alpha is with her-”

“I don’t care. That is my wife!”

She coughed, reaching for the man she loved wholeheartedly, and he clasped her hand tightly in his. She fingered his signet wedding band and blinked against the scratchy dirt in her tear ducts.

“I didn’t tap-”

“Princess-”

She opened her eyes in time to see Rowan’s pained look at Kian. They seemed to share something through the look, and Kian’s grip on her loosened slightly.

“Rowan will take you to their healer, Amira, and check you over.”

“But I’m fine,” she rasped, a coughing fit stopping any more words as Rowan scooped her aching body into his arms. Tears leaked from her eyes as she tried to swallow, the pain finally kicking in as Kians’ gifted adrenaline dissipated.

“The fight is done.” Rowan’s fast gait jostled Sylvie painfully, stealing her focus as they moved away from the squawking masses.

“But I didn’t give up yet. I wasn’t done.”

“No,” Rowan conceded, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “I was done. If you had continued, I could not have stopped my wolf.”

Sylvie winced and blinked tiredly as they walked the length of the main house to a smaller, plant-covered cabin. The door stood ajar, half filled by a tiny woman with sun-weathered skin and a bright smile.

“Finally, we meet.” Her face didn’t appear very old, but her voice and movements revealed grace and wisdom that only came with age. Sylvie recalled conversations with her mates about Rowan’s hundred-and-thirty-year-old healer and nodded to herself.

That must be her.

“You’re a bonny one, aren’t ye? A bit grubby though,” the woman stated with no malice or judgement, merely an observation. “Are ye a warrior?”

Before she could answer, Rowan lay her carefully on a tall stretcher in the corner, the sheets crinkling under her back. “That she is.”

His mouth twitched as she stared at him, captivated by his worried eyes.

“She is a quick healer, Amira, but she is in pain-”

“Aye, I see that, Rowan. Gae, wait ootside.” His name sounded more like Rao-an from her lips, and Sylvie bit back a tired smile at the sound.

He grumbled and shot a grumpy look at her but turned and left the room, only looking at her briefly to nod. ‘You’re safe,’ the look said.

Her eyes fluttered closed as Amira prodded her from head to toe, applying a salve to every spot that drew a wince or shudders. The cream tingled as it touched her skin, and soon her body buzzed with soothing relief.

“That should help till the healin’ kicks in. Sit up, lassie.”

Sylvie sat. “Thank you for helping me.”

“Oh, a wasnae much helping you. It wis more fer that beast hoverin’ ootside.”

“I can hear you-”

“Aye, that’s the point. A ken ye mean well, but yer a tad overbearin’.”

Sylvie chuckled and pressed her lips together. “How come you have an accent?”

Amira winked at her and pottered around the small, candlelit space, the scent of herbs filling Sylvie’s nostrils.

“I spent many, many years in Scotland, ma childhood really, after my home realm turnit tae war and death. I picked up a few things, ye ken.”

“Right.”

She stirred a concoction in a small stone bowl and spoke softly over her shoulder.

“Ye dinnae need tae fear Rowan’s mark. Ye will no dee.”

“Dee?”

“Di-e. Dead, ye ken?” Amira annunciated a bit clearer, and Sylvie nodded, half following. “I remember the Fates scriptures, from ma mother’s stories, aboot a creature who wore the mark o the beast and no be a beast themselves. A’d wager ma life you are that creature.”

So her existence was foretold in their scriptures? Now that was a stretch. She smiled politely and slipped off the stretcher to her shaky feet.

“Thank you for your help and information, but I think I should go now. My husband is probably worried about me.”

“Ay, yer husband, the faery. Best no tae leave him worryin’ aboot ye. Rowan too. I’m sure he’s halfway tae a heart attack. Tell him ye need rest and tae be close tae yer mo chridhe.”

Sylvie bobbed her head, following Amira numbly to the door and said her goodbyes, stumbling into the blinding sun. Her words were as good as gibberish to her ears, and she had no clue how she’d pass on Amira’s message to Rowan.

After a few steps, blinking at the brightness, she walked nose-first into a solid figure. At first, she thought it might be a tree, but the tensing abs and soft grunt proved otherwise.

“Rowan?”

“Yes.”

“Will you take me to bed? I’m tired.”

She noticed his body jerk suddenly, but she paid it no mind as he nodded and laced his hand around her waist, guiding her carefully to the pack house.

“Hey, hot stuff!”

Sylvie turned with a laugh as Natalie jogged over from the fighting square’s path. Rowan grunted, and Natalie lowered herself and lifted her hands placatingly.

“Can I speak with her for a minute, Alpha?”

He peered down at Sylvie, who had already been staring at the swirling markings on his neck and swallowed. “I’ll give you a minute.”

“Make it three?” Natalie quipped with a Cheshire grin.

Rowan growled and strode away into the central cabin and out of sight. Sylvie dragged her feet to the steps out the front and sat, wincing as her bruised muscles groaned in protest.

Natalie remained standing and looked to be bursting with excitement.

“What is it, Nat?”

“Are you kidding me? That was fucking insane! That bitch has been training for years, and you put her on her ass!”

“I lost-”

“She cheated. You won me a lot of money today, and I reckon ill be off dishes duty for a month!”

Sylvie laughed and then groaned as her ribs screamed back at her. “Where’re my winnings then? And where is she? Everything is a blur.”

“She’s in the cells, I believe... Alphas orders,” she whispered the last part and wiggled her brows. The news both pleased and disgusted Sylvie, and she sighed into her hands.

“So-uh, how did you get that good? You’re part vampire, right? I found that out from Rosie...”

“Mhmm. And Dryad.”

“Dryad?”

Sylvie was far too tired for the history lesson.

“A type of fairy. Nature and trees.”

“Woah... And here I settled for shifting into a panther. Can you like-” she chuckled softly to herself as if not quite believing the conversation she was having. “Can you control them? Like, bring the plants to you? Twist them around people and knock them out.” She laughed again then. “Like in the movies and shit?”

Sylvie just rolled her eyes and rested her forehead on her fists. “I didn’t take you for a movie watcher.” But even as she said it, her gaze honed in on a small weed stretching its wiry tendrils through bark and pebbles, and she wondered if maybe Natalie’s musings could amount to something.

Maybe with a bit of focus, she could-

“I think that’s enough, Miss Edward’s.”

Sylvie lifted her head in time to see Natalie bowing and jogging away as Rowan’s hand appeared palm up in her vision.

“I better get you to your husband...”

Still shaking, she slipped her hand into his and stood, conflicted by her heart’s rapid fluttering and warmth towards him.