With a quick pivot, he lurched forward in Magnar’s direction. He swung the knife with a cold swiftness, catching my alpha off guard. The blade slid across his cheek and a thin line of blood followed in its wake. He roared and arched backwards, ensuring that the dagger didn’t cut too deeply.
He sidestepped and the two of them circled each other.
Both willing to fight to the death.
I feared that Magnar wouldn’t be the one walking away.
Becoming more desperate, I pulled my hand harder until the agony was too much. I screeched and still the two men clashed.
I watched with wide eyes as they fought. Every time Magnar would land a strike, I would clutch firmly onto hope that he would prevail and when the Acolyte caught him with the knife, those same hopes would be dashed into what felt like a pile of ash swept away by the wind.
I had thought his robes would hinder the Cultist, but they didn’t. His movements were fluid and well-trained. Each time he sidestepped Magnar’s advances, I could see it. It was as if he could anticipate Magnar’s attacks.
That made me even more nervous.
Magnar rushed at the Cultist with unbound fury. He was reacting solely on instinct now. He was quickly becoming more and more reckless with every round and it was beginning to show. His face was writhing with fury and his teeth gnashed together in a tight grimace.
The Acolyte seemed to be prepared for when Magnar would step to the side and lashed his foot out at the last moment. Magnar flew forward and slapped his hands down, catching himself before his face crashed into the stone floor.
The Cultist bounded on top of him, covering his large form with the fabric of the hooded cape. Magnar couldn’t get any leverage to push him off his back and the man took advantage as he swung the blade forward and pressed it against my lover’s throat.
Magnar stilled instantly, but he didn’t hold back the savage roar that spoke to his wrath. The Cultist’s eyes wrinkled with amused arrogance and I desperately pressed against the metal cuff still holding me captive.
I wasn’t getting out. Not without oil or something to ease the way.
I froze.
“Growl for me, Magnar,” I pleaded. “Growl for your omega.”
I begged for him, over and over. I never stopped.
Magnar paused and his angry eyes slipped to me despite that blade digging into his throat.
At once, my alpha roared. His anger, his worry, and every other emotion under the sun slammed into me with such force that I cowered even as my core twisted hard in on itself. My body pitched forward as agony tore through me from the tips of my toes all the way to the very ends of my fingers. I screamed and my core twisted harder, but then a rush of slick dripped down my thighs.
“Again,” I beseeched him.
I didn’t know if he realized what I was doing, but it didn’t really matter.
He growled for me again and even more of my slick soaked my legs. With panicked desperation, I slipped my hand between my thighs, not to pleasure myself but to use my wetness to escape. I coated my free hand and hurriedly spread it across the skin of my trapped one. I did this over and over until my fingers were just as slick as the flesh of my legs.
In a panic, I pulled as I squeezed my fingers together, making my hand as small as possible. My slick allowed my hand to slip a little further. I pulled harder and even when it started to hurt more than I thought possible, I kept pulling. Soon enough, I screamed as my first knuckle slid through and then another.
All at once, my hand was free.
I cried out as a rush of pain jolted up my wrist. With trepidation, I uncurled my fingers and the pain intensified for several terrible moments until it finally began to fade.
Nothing was broken. I was okay.
Magnar’s fury redirected in the Acolyte’s direction. He’d managed to unseat the Cultist by flipping to his side, making the man crash into the floor at the unexpected maneuver. At close range like this, it appeared that Magnar had the upper hand. He was a little bit bigger and he could use that strength against our enemy. They grappled with each other until Magnar managed to get ahold of the knife.
He raised his hand and made a movement to stab downward with the blade when the Acolyte punched his forearm hard enough to derail Magnar’s attempt to kill him. He didn’t stop the blade from cutting him though.
The blade angled and bit deep into his right arm. I heard him roar with pain and I had difficulty finding any mercy for him. The dark stain of fresh blood billowed outward onto the sleeve of his scarlet cape.
He didn’t let that slow him down.
Instead, he bucked hard, grabbing Magnar around the waist and slamming him down on his back. Then he grasped my alpha’s wrist and twisted it hard enough to force the point of the knife toward Magnar’s chest.