Wrath of the Wolf Queen [HOTWP #2]

Chapter Eight: NAOMI

'Rage' doesn't do justice for how I felt when I learnt they'd taken my sister.

I think my fire did a better job of describing it. My entire body had exploded in flames, incinerating the wretched letter in my hands before I could even read the final word. My display had frightened several guards, and had almost sent the poor bastard who'd been electrocuted into another round of cardiac arrest. I didn't even care when I had to walk half-naked through the palace in the charred remains of my clothes; I'd promptly held court and arranged for a party to accompany me to the mountain ranges of Dyrkmore. Kohl had tried to talk me out of it, that he would sort it out himself, but one withering glare from me had shut him up.

We rode on horseback for two days straight, barely stopping along the way. The horses were exhausted, and my men were tiring, but my fear for Althea's safety trumped any concern for their comfort.

What was he doing with her? Hurting her? Torturing her? My mind tormented me with endless horrible scenarios. Before long, I shut down entirely and talked to no one, wholly focused on my objective to find Althea and bring her back.

It wasn't hard to find the lair. Somehow, I knew. I suspect it had something to do with the wretched mate bond, and though I hated the damn thing, having it slowly come to life in my chest with the closer I got to the bastard was damn useful.

Now, in the mountain ranges of Dyrkmore, I stand outside a stone cave that I know must be the entrance to this supposed lair. Macy and Kairi stand at either side of me while Kohl rounds up the other members of the party, barking commands for them to hide the horses within the trees and tie them down to anything solid.

I go first when we walk down the narrow cave, the walls moist and glistening with stalactites. We walk for only about ten minutes until finally the narrow passage opens up into a wide, dim cavern, lit by several torches bracketed to the walls.

When my eyes adjust to the figures standing on the other side of the cavern, my rage returns in full force. My mate stands beside a small woman, her eyes like two black pits and her hair the colour of blood. My eyes, however, are not on her – they're on him. And his eyes are on mine.

For several moments, it is silent, the atmosphere thick with the tension that thrums between us. Before I know it, my breaths are coming in rapid puffs. My skin itches with the need to bring fire to my hands, to incinerate him on the spot, but I am also painfully aware of the stranger to his left. If it were just me, if I were risking only my life for my sister's, I may have attacked them despite not knowing the full extent of their combined power. But I have a party of people to protect, and who knows what kind of power thrums in the red-haired woman's veins? She may be small, but everything about her screams danger, as though she is not a twenty-something-year-old but instead a very old, very wicked creature.

"Where is she?" I yell, shaking with fury. Kohl steps up beside me and bares his teeth at the two. The red-haired woman grins. High Witch, I recall the letter saying. This must be her.