Page 51 of Angel's Conquest
Bronze tucked his chin to examine her more closely. “Lineage?”
“My father is a gray wolf lycan, descended from the gray wolves of North America. Fierce, powerful, incredibly dominant and stubborn. Lord Raff, on the other hand, is a Canadian timber wolf lycan, descended from the wolves of western North America and what the humans call Alaska. The timber wolf lycans are one of the largest wolf species in existence, well acclimated to the harshest climates, and are viciously protective of what they deem as theirs.”
“Makes sense. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I had no idea your culture was so rich and varied.” Bronze dragged his fingers through her silken strands, playing with the frosted tips. “And you, princess? Where does the other half of your kind hail from?”
“The Arctic.”
“I knew you were coldhearted, but I never knew you were an original ice queen. Ow!”
Clara pinched his side but quickly soothed the small hurt with a gentle hand over his skin. “Everything is a joke to you, isn’t it?” Her faux ire was masked by a genuine chuckle, however.
“The world would be an infinitely harder place without levity. It’s been scientifically proven. Laughter creates dopamine, or what mortals call the ‘happy hormone.’ Dopamine serves as a sort of buffer between cortisol and adrenaline. It’s what helps push us through to the finish line and why people who laugh often are more likely to accomplish hard things.”
“What a wondrous world your mind is, truly.”
“Honey, you have no idea. It’s like Disney World up there.” He winked, and she hid her smile against his chest, but his muscles still twitched when they picked up on her concealed joy.
“I am an arctic wolf lycan, descended from polar wolves that roam among the frozen tundra and forests of the great north. I believe the nation of Canada calls that area Queen Elizabeth Islands. My mother was also an arctic lycan, and I inherited most of her genetics, but she was mated to my father out of obligation. Her ancestral homeland is small, and there is only so much to offer in trade. Agreeing to mate him was a way out for her, as well as an opportunity to learn more of the world, despite the reputation my father had long fostered.” Her stiff swallow paved a hard track against Bronze’s ribs. He knew what was coming at him real fast and wished like hell he could stop the pain that was about to rise up anew for her. “She died in childbirth with me.”
“I’m sorry, princess.” He gripped her tighter, offering his support in the form of his strength.
“It was a long time ago. But now that you know what sort of lycan Lord Raff is, you must take extra care with him. His wolf is the most efficient of hunters, with unmatched speed and endurance, let alone the sheer size and weight of him. If he should let his lycan free, there won’t be anything you could do to?—”
Bronze froze as her words slapped something free in his mind that, up until then, he’d been fair-to-middling at not hyper-focusing on. But then she whipped the sheet off his vulnerability and started poking at the tender flesh he hadn’t had time to care for yet. Bronze hinged up off the bed and shifted her off him. “Are you saying you don’t think I can beat him?”
“You don’t have your powers, Bronze. There’s no metal allowed here, and metal is what you need to regenerate. You told me so yourself!”
As if he needed a fucking reminder. Had he not proven that he was more than capable of adapting? That he knew the stakes well enough to fight the battle before him, regardless of how much it differed from the one he’d prepared for?
“That doesn’t mean I’m powerless. I thought I proved that to you, but I clearly didn’t do a good enough job for you to actually believe me.” Bronze threw his feet over the bed and punched his legs into his pants, then searched around for his shirt.
“Bronze, come back here.” Clara wrapped herself in the bedsheet before trailing him to the door. “Let’s talk about this. What did I say? I thought I was speaking a truth.”
“Oh, you spoke a truth all right. Your truth, not mine. I gotta go. Better rest up before tomorrow’s big day. Wouldn’t want to embarrass you with a poor performance.”
“Bronze!”
He slammed the door with a resounding thud and thanked the prime mages for solid oak construction. Despite what he said in there, he was so not strong enough to hear another plea fall from her perfect lips or see the respect she once held for him dim her eyes further.
There was more to a competition than the players, especially when there was an alternate game to be won. Bronze held on to that thought and armored himself with it as he made his way down the stairs where the serving lycan had gone earlier.
The old stones encasing the lower level of King Halpin’s keep groaned with a pregnant energy that was almost predatory. Every step Bronze took was heavy beneath the weight of unseen forces watching him. There was history here, encapsulated in the ancient limestone, and if Bronze was in any less of a hurry, he might have stopped to admire the scenery. Or at the very least put a palm up to the stuff and see whether the answers to his wishes would be whispered back to him. Yet left alone in the silence as he was, he didn’t have the luxury of such fanciful exploits. Any thoughts about his powers that he needed to sort out would be best left for when he was in his dormitory and the back of his head was flat against the threadbare pillow on his cot.
Long-stowed images of Malik, and a few of Polina, surged through the mire of his mind as he examined the great oak door in front of him. Of the two doors he’d yet to see anyone enter or exit from, this one was the only entrance accessible by the stairwell the old serving lycan had walked down.
He didn’t need Malik’s shadow sensory ability to know this was where the moonstone relic had been stored.
It would be so easy to bust in, nab it, and make like he’d never been there in the first place. Clara and her father would have far too much going on to search him out, especially among the supposed human lands, where, deep down, the lycan leaders seemed to fear what they did not understand. Even if Lord Barf led the charge, he was not from this part of the country. Without the use of technology and relying on scent and inner fury alone, Raff would have very few resources available to go after Bronze.
And by the time Raff did pick up on his trail, Bronze could have that relic nestled safely in the sentinels’ den, where Chrome and Rhode could put their massive craniums to good use and figure out how the hell to get them all home so he wouldn’t have to wonder about Clara anymore?—
“There are so many questions I could ask, but a wise lycan never offers up questions to which he does not know the answers to already, so it would be a waste of time for both of us.” Lord Raff’s quiet warning bounced off the stones, making the small hallway even more claustrophobic.
Bronze squeezed his eyes shut and cursed inwardly, not wanting to admit how his lack of celestial powers had allowed that asshole to follow him or just how right Clara’s statement about him being powerless actually was.
Irony could fuck all the way off.
What Bronze wouldn’t do for his sickle sword and a fully loaded Smith & Wesson M&P 9mm with the threaded barrel, no safety, and half a dozen magazines. Instead, he’d have to settle for his bare knuckles, fancy footwork, and big-ass mouth that had gotten him both in and out of more fights than the sky had stars.