CHAPTER 11: VIOLENTLY

FENRIC'S POV

The training yard is filled with the sound of fists against flesh, grunts and growls, while bodies slamming into the sand and stones around.

Nyall’s sparring with one of the newer Beta guards; Orien’s working the blade dummies across the field with that quiet, focused look of his on his face as usual.

... And Me?

I’m cracking my knuckles against a thick wooden post, bare- fisted and totally pissed off.

Every Elder’s face flashes in my mind with each strike of my fist on the post.

Boom; Veylen.

Crack; Thorne.

Snap; that fucking High Priestess.

I snarl and drive my fist in again, and again, not stopping until the wood splits down all the way to the middle.

They want to quarantine and contain her like she’s some threat or silver- born disease?

Hell no.

Iryn is ours, mine, and no cursed believes or vanishing scent will change that.

My fists are now raw and bloodied, but I barely feel it, and I don't care much about it as the bruised flesh starts healing and closing up on its own.

I’m about to shift into my wolf and run through the forest until the rage in me dulls a bit when I freeze.

... Because I smell her---- our mate---- and her scent hits me like a punch to the gut---- so wild and sweet.

I've gotten so used to her scent that I'm addicted to it, but this time it’s different.

This isn’t the warm scent of her resting near us, or the light scent trail she subconsciously leaves behind when she's walking away.

... This is the raw smell of her heat, and it’s everywhere.

“Shit,” I growl, already turning towards where it's coming from.

Across the yard, Nyall’s nose flares and his body immediately goes rigid.

“Do you feel that?” I bark.

“She’s in heat again,” Orien says, already dropping his blade. “But this is—”

“I’ll get to her first,” I snarl and speed into a sprint.

I leap the stone railing of the training yard, allowing my boots to skid across the polished floor of the corridor, and the closer I get to our quarters, the thicker her scent becomes.

It’s dizzying; sweet and sharp, with that strange, powerful edge that makes my Alpha blood churn in my veins only for her.

Mine.

I turn the final corner, and stop cold... because Orien is already there.

The door is open with light spilling into the hallway, and through it, I see them.

Iryn is curled up on the massive bed, writhing while her skin glows with sweat.

Her nightgown’s twisted around her hips, and her breath are coming in soft, desperate gasps.

Her eyes are unfocused--- dilated even---- her lips are parted... and Orien’s touching her.

His hand cradles her cheek, so soft and gently as if she's something very, brushing his forehead against hers and murmuring something that I surprisingly can’t hear.

However I don't think too much about it, because then she kisses him.

Fuck no.

... She pulls him down and presses her mouth to his like she’s starving for him, and the bastard doesn’t stop her.

He groans into her lips, sliding his fingers down her neck while his other hand reaches out, gripping her hip possessively.

Their bond glows with a faint golden light across their arms, and I watch it pulse with energy, my body going rigid as rage hits me so quickly that I almost black out from it and I shove the already open door wider so hard that it slams against the wall behind it.

“Get the fuck away from her!”

They both freeze instantly---- hell they hadn't even known I was there until I shoved the door.

Orien his the first to unfreeze and jerks back with his lips swollen and guilt flashing across his face.

Iryn blinks, looking dazed with her pupils blown wide.

“Fenric—” she breathes, but I don’t hear her.

... All I see is red.

“You fucking touched her,” I growl, stalking into the room.

"You knew how close she was to snapping, and you touched her?”

“She was burning—” Orien starts, standing up to his feet.

“I DON’T CARE!”

The bond inside me is thrashing wildly, and I can feel it clawing at my chest, demanding that I take her, mark her and claim what’s mine.

“She needed comfort,” Orien says, lowly and in a calm voice as if he’s trying to reason with a wild animal.

... But I AM a wild animal.

“She needed me,” I snarl, walking up even closer to him.

“And you couldn’t wait five fucking seconds before sinking your claws in?”

Orien’s jaw clenches at my words and he says, “I wasn’t sinking anything. She was in pain and she reached for me.”

My hands curl into fists.

“Bullshit,” I hiss. “You’ve been waiting for a moment to get her alone. You always play the calm one, the gentle one, but you’re just as possessive as I am. You just hide it better.”

Iryn sits up slowly now, clutching the bed sheets to her chest. “Fenric… please stop. I didn’t mean—”

I snap my gaze to her and she stops speaking immediately, biting at her bottom lip.

Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes are still glassy with need and her scent----- Gods, her scent is like fire in my veins.

But now it’s tainted with his touch.

“You kissed him,” I whisper.

“Fenric—”

“You kissed him Iryn, and I felt it.”

My voice cracks at that point, something that I didn’t expect and I feel so... pained and betrayed.

“We’re all bonded,” she tells me weakly, getting up from the bed.

"Fenric it’s not supposed to be like I'm choosing one of you—”

“I’m not him,” I snap, cutting her off so roughly that she gasps.

“I don’t share what’s mine.”

At that Orien steps in between us. “Back off.”

That’s it; I shove him and he stumbles, but catches himself and gives me a hard look.

Fuck him.

“You want to fight me now?” he asks me coldly.

“I want to gut you,” I snarl.

“Fenric, stop!” Iryn cries, but I can’t, I just can't.

I’ve been patient and I’ve been silent.

I've watched Orien soothe her in the mornings, then watched Nyall bandage her wrists to ease her cold in the nights and brush her hair back like some fucking prince.

... And I told myself it didn’t matter, because she would come to me for attention as well.

... That she would need me and choose me to run to for once when she needs something, but now...

... She's kissed him first amongst the three of us, and I'm fucking sure it is her first kiss.

That simple truth burns me hotter than any heat she’s ever thrown at me.

“You don’t get to touch her again,” I growl. “Not while I’m breathing.”

“You don’t control this bond brother,” Orien says, snapping at me.

"Do you think you’re the only one hurting? I feel it too. I feel it every time she looks at one of us like we’re the center of her world… and then shifts to another one of us the next second.”

His voice breaks then. “We’re all drowning, Fenric; you’re just louder about it.”

I’m shaking now; from rage, from pain and from the overwhelming scent of her.

I turn to her and see her eyes brim with tears.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she whispers, almost sobbing, and so I step back.

... Because if I don’t, I’ll break something, someone or worse do something that'll make the tears fall out of her eyes.

And I can't bear to see her hurt.

“Don’t speak to me right now,” I say, my voice coming out very rough.

"... Don’t look at me and don’t even breathe in my direction.”

“Fenric…” Orien warns, but I just turn and storm out of the room, slamming the door behind me, and heading outside.

Then I shift.

My bones crack, my muscles tear, and within seconds, I’m on all fours, my fur standing upright and my fangs bared.

I let out a furious howl that echoes across the mountain tops, and then I run.

... Into the forest, into the cold and away from the scent of someone else's lips on hers.