29
Jaxson
The lowball glass rang against the marble countertop as I set it down. I poured a generous helping of whiskey and swallowed it, then measured out another. The amber liquid burned but did nothing to appease the demons clawing at my soul.
How the fuck did it come to this?
The events of the day flashed before me. Handing over the Soul Knife to the Order. Hours spent making plans with the archmages.
But like a storm cloud hanging over it all, I saw the pain and grief in Savannah’s eyes as she bound her wolf. As I helped her do it.
Even when I shut my eyes, her face was there, tortured and heartbroken—an image burned into my mind forever.
I snarled, a recriminating whisper beneath my breath, “Fuck you, Laurent, you bastard.”
Guilt and shame festered inside me like a disease. I downed the whiskey and slammed the glass onto the counter, sending a fine crack through the crystal.
I was her mate, for fuck’s sake. This—this—was exactly the sort of thing I was supposed to protect her from, and yet, I’d failed.
Every fiber of my body had screamed at me to break off the spell. Instead, I stood by—hell, I’d pinned Savannah down—while Laurel chained her wolf. Once, I was ready to gut Laurel LaSalle for the same sorcery, but now, I was complicit in it.
Beyond unforgiveable.
Scrubbing a hand over my face, I poured another drink and stalked into the living room, where I sat down on the couch. The quiet sounds of Savannah moving upstairs filtered down, and a deep ache settled in my chest.
How could she even look at me after what we’d done?
My thoughts whirled as I searched every corner of my mind for some other path we could have taken, for a way to make it all go away. But the liquor slowly moved through my veins, and exhaustion settled over me. The fight was taking its toll.
Kicking off my shoes, I laid back against the couch and closed my eyes. I just needed a goddammed minute of quiet. A moment to breathe.
What would it have been like to live without a sword hanging over our heads? My thoughts drifted to the forests up north, where I’d gone to run my wolf as a youth. I would take Savannah there, to a quiet land with trees and waterfalls and plenty of game. I’d give anything just to be able to hunt there with her, to run without fear or monsters at our back. I could practically smell the woods around me and could feel my paws digging into the moss and moldering leaves as I sprinted through the trees.
And then, I was dreaming.
Branches and brush dragged against my sides as I ran. I could sense her running somewhere nearby.
But this wasn’t the forest of my youth. I knew the strange vibration of the place—the Dreamlands. His domain.
A rush of scents and signatures pummeled my senses, but amidst it all, one thing stood out like a hundred blazing suns—the scent of forest fire, a searing cold that burned like dry ice, and the taste of charcoal and ash. The signature of the Dark Wolf God.
Pure hatred replaced the elation of the run. Would I never be free of him?
With my senses sharpened to a point, I wove cautiously through the forest of gnarled trees. The sonofabitch had brought me here for a reason, and I had no illusion that I was safe in his realm.
Finally, a faint glow pierced the dark woods ahead. Bloodlust urged me to charge forward, but I fought it back and slowed my pace.
I bent under a fallen trunk and stepped into a clearing. A set of stone stairs led to a platform within the ruins of an ancient building. A single arched doorway and several partially collapsed walls were all that was left. A portal?
Suddenly, I sensed the presence of others—wolves all around me, lurking at the edge of the pines.
Was Savannah here?
Before I could search for her, the air cracked with magic, and a low rumble vibrated the space. The air within the archway tore open in a rift of blue fire.
Then the Dark God stepped through, flames licking across his body.
An arc of power swept over the space, and I braced myself as it tore through the clearing, pummeling me with rocks and leaves. Branches snapped and creaked behind me as the magic dissipated into the trees.
Wolves whimpered in terror.
Baring my teeth, I gave a low growl and stepped forward to challenge him. Get the fuck out of my dreams.
“Dreams are my domain, Jaxson,” the Dark God growled. “You will listen to what I have to say.”
His voice shook the ground, and the vibrations thrummed in my chest.
“Your world is dying, and I know you sense it,” the god said, clenching his hand. Suddenly, the forest was gone, replaced by a mirage of brick buildings and skyscrapers. Chicago.
“They call this civilization, but it is destruction. They poison everything they touch. They spread death and disease and misery,” the Dark God growled.
My gaze was drawn to the trash lining the roads and littering the parks. A haze of exhaust hung about the tall buildings; the sounds of blaring horns emanated from the traffic-filled streets.
Out across Lake Michigan, clouds of soot rose from the steel mills that marred the Indiana Dunes where Savy loved to run, and rusty slurry poured into the water where I’d seen her swim.
“Do you not see that there is no limit to what they would destroy to gain the slightest comfort?”