“I thought I’d passed through,” I say. My voice sounds small, and I suffer great sorrow and guilt at what I tried to do.
“Through?” His face is so very stern now that I hardly recognize the Alpha who always played at civilized with me.
I start to speak, then stop. My shaking fingers kneed at my temple. A prickling sense of malaise creeps under my skin as I look around—something is wrong. Yet, it’s all as I expect: the dark of night, the hoot of a distant owl, the warm summer air, and the forest bracing the path.
A high keening wail rises from the darkness to my left. We both turn to face it.
I shudder, my brows drawing together in a frown. It’s the sound of grief and of death.
Cursing softly under his breath, Aramis strides to his horse and draws forth a sword stowed against the saddle.
“What?” My mouth is so dust-dry that I can barely get the word out. “What was that?”
When he turns back to me, he shrugs, heavy shoulders lifting. The sword is gripped loosely in his right hand, but his body is alert. “I do not know, Princess.” His free hand turns over, fingers making an upward motion.
I rise gracelessly to my feet.
Wrong.
The sense of malaise is like a slow, creeping tide washing over my body. I turn full circle. “Where has it gone?” The source of my anxiety manifests in the absence of the portal.
His grunt is derisive.
Another long, desolate wail rises from the shadowy forest.
“Portals do not wait for us to hop back and forth,” he says. “Were it so easy, we would do it all the time. The one you used has moved. And even should you find it, it would likely not take you home, but rather somewhere more terrible than this.”
This does not seem so terrible. It’s a forest and a mirror of the one we’ve just left. I’m still in a state of confusion, and perhaps denial, that I’ve truly left my kingdom.
A distant roar, as alien as the deathly wail, confirms this is not my home anymore.
“Do you know nothing of the portal laws, Princess?” he says, placing his larger bulk between me and the threat.
I shake my head. I’ve had very little interest in the portal other than listening to the fanciful tales of those who have traveled to worlds on the other side. On occasion, I did wonder if they were merely skilled bards who hadn’t ventured through the portal at all.
“You know as little of your laws as you do of Alphas and Omegas.” There is censure in his voice. “You’re a spoiled, selfish brat who has never once been held accountable for your behavior.” He glances back, stormy grey eyes holding mine, and I dare not look away. “That is about to change.”
I’m about to remind him that I’ve yet to choose, and when I do choose, it will assuredly not be him, when a snarling mass explodes from the trees: thick, black fur, white teeth, the body of a wolf but as large as a horse.
I fear my eyes deceive me, but no, it really has three heads.
The horse rears and bolts for the undergrowth.
Aramis raises his sword and charges to meet the creature. His blade swings. The monster lunges, snapping jaws, clawed paws gouging the rough ground.
Thrust and slash. Snarl and snap.
They weave back and forth, side to side, neither gaining advantage nor ground, and all the while I’m rooted to the spot.
Aramis’s blade glances the beast’s hind leg, and it howls, savage heads rearing and jaws snapping. Sometimes the three wolf heads work in unison, and sometimes they take turns.
His blade swings again. The monster retreats and then leaps.
Another howl pierces the night as he slashes the throat of the rightmost head. It falls limp. The two remaining wolf heads rise for a howl that promises bloody revenge.
They circle and fight.
A desperate dance of life and death.
I want to help. I want to run and hide, but shock has me in its grip, and I do neither of those things.
The beast snarls its anger.
Aramis growls back.
Goddess save us. We are going to die.
My eyes lower, searching the ground for a weapon… for a distraction, for anything that might help. A small branch is all I see, and I snatch it up wondering how I might put it to use.
“Get back,” Aramis growls as if sensing my intent. He charges once more, the sword dipping under the rearing beast and impaling deep into its chest.
A high keening wail accompanies it crashing to the ground. Blood sprays from the mortal wound. The beast flails, the dread heads thrashing as Aramis hacks and chops, throwing up great fountains of blood.
With a final piteous wail, the wolf-beast heaves its last breath and stills.
I watch Aramis’s back heave with deep, fierce breaths.
Then he turns, eyes narrowing on the crude weapon in my hands.
I drop it.
Goddess help me, he has slain this impossible creature.
His fine clothes are shredded. Tossing the sword to the ground, he strips the tunic over his head and drops it beside his sword.
Rivulets of blood escape a gash left by claws. His chest continues to heave, sweat glistening over the tan skin as his eyes lock with mine.
The urge to prostrate myself at his feet is strong. He is godlike in this moment, all-powerful.
He is both a monster and my savior.
His scent saturates the air, and I lick my lips, tasting it.
It is utterly delicious. I sway a little like I have eaten too many moon berries.
A smile lights his lips as steady steps bring him toward me. “Stop fighting your nature,” he says. “And this will go so much easier, Princess.”
I blink, trying to lift myself from the strange daze that is settling upon me. As he nears, more of his rich, spicy scent fills my lungs. It radiates outward, instilling a low, nervous swarm of butterflies deep in the pit of my belly.
Goddess, his scent is heavenly. My legs grow weak, and standing is nigh impossible.
My hand lowers to my stomach, where the fluttering assaults me.
What is happening?
He growls. Not the vicious kind that he used in a challenge to the monster. This is low, more of a purr, and it sends the butterflies into a frenzy.
“It’s time for your punishment,” he says ominously.
I swallow. I’m sure the devil has possessed him to make such an announcement mere moments after he has slain a beast. Have I not been punished enough by the circumstance of being trapped in a parallel world?
The butterflies abandon me, and my stomach performs a slow clench.
“Punishment?” I ask. My pulse leaps and my palms turn a little clammy.
His smile widens as he cups my cheek. The shock of his touch and the proprietary nature sets off little explosions under my skin. Where Elijah’s touch filled me with revulsion, Aramis's is comfort. “Will you accept your discipline like a good girl?”
I shake my head. His warm palm is smothering my will. “I didn’t mean to pass through the portal,” I say, strengthening my resolve against the magic of his touch. I step backward, breaking the connection. “I’m a princess. It’s not your place to punish me, even supposing it were necessary—which it’s not.”
He stalks after me. I step back, stumbling over a root.
“This is madness.”
“Is it, Princess?”
I’m backing up with haste now, but he’s a predator honing in upon his prey. I lose my footing.