Series: Lords of Rathe Series by Meagan Brandy
Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
We hit the floor with a hard bang, and the last thing I hear is Legend’s roar echoing inside my skull.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Legend
Knight’s crouched beside me when the world swims back into focus, his palm a hot brand against my shoulder like he’s trying to pin me to the floorboards by heat alone.
“What’s wrong with him?” he snarls at anyone who’ll answer, and the question scrapes along my ribs like a knife hunting bone. “Why are we fine and he’s not?”
“Her.” Creed’s one-word answer has my brows pulling.
Everything hums.
My nose leaks slowly and refuses to stop, the taste of iron and ash now permanent on my tongue. The edges of my vision are fuzzy like burned paper.
“Move,” Silver’s voice reaches me, clean as a scalpel he’ll never have to hold. The court’s golden healer in a shirt that somehow hasn’t collected a single wrinkle in this chaos.
He takes Knight’s place at my side. His hands hover over my face, the air cools, and light threads from his fingertips. Silver on silver, the kind that usually stitches flesh back into obedience.
It touches me, and my body jerks like I’ve been nailed to the ground by a predator’s fangs.
But that’s bullshit, because there is no predator greater than me. Than my brothers.
I grit my teeth, chest convulsing.
The light fizzles, pops, and then dies.
Silver’s jaw tightens. He tries again with a different angle, a deeper tone, and a low hum intended to coax my bones to remember they’re mine. The magic strokes my broken cartilage. My skin rises against it, fighting back like a beast shackled in fire. The light gutters out, leaving only the ache and a trickle along my lip of something hot that isn’t blood and is.
“Gods,” Silver breathes. “He’s rejecting it. This should work. Legend, can you feel me at all?”
My eyes narrow and he sits back on his haunches, looking over at my brothers.
Sinner’s sprawled on a small sofa in the back corner, cigarette smoldering between two lazy fingers, smoke drawing sigils of trouble and invitation. “It’s the bond,” he says around the drag, voice flat, as if stating the weather while the house is on fire. “He’s wired to her and frayed to hell. You can’t knit a man back together while someone else is unraveling his thread.”
Bond.
Mate.
Haide.
My insides coil, fire molding my organs together in a painful grip, and I jerk in my place on the floor, body rolling onto my side as my arms flop in front of me.
How the fuck did I end up on the floor? How the fuck did I end up here?
London steps in behind Sinner, shoulder to Knight’s back, steadying him in the way only she can. Her gaze flicks from my face to Silver’s hands to the streak of black on the floor beside me.
“Where is Haide? What happened?”
Everyone ignores me.
Silver drags the back of his wrist across his brow, annoyed at what he does or doesn’t find. “I can seal the break in his nose manually, but the system’s rejecting healing on a deeper level. This is beyond my ability.” He presses two fingers to my throat, counting. “Pulse is…volatile.”
I laugh and it fucking hurts.
I close my eyes and, deep in the recesses of my mind, there’s a spark. It’s sharp and hot and undoubtably her.
Rage.
My little monster is angry, claws turned inward. If I had breath to spare, I’d laugh at the recognition. Of course, my mate’s fury would taste like the edge of a blade that has learned to love its own bite. My bite.
But why is she angry at me?
I try to stand.
“Legend.” Knight’s voice gentles without his permission. “Stay down.”
“Make me.” I plant a hand, then another, and push.
My arms shake like a newborn god trying to stand on legs it hasn’t earned yet.
Silver reaches to steady my shoulder but my skin rejects him again. The contact crackles, the healer yanks back, shaking out singed fingers with a stunned laugh. “He is a terrible patient.”
“Leave me alone. I’ll go to her. She’s what I need.”
“You will go nowhere,” Creed says as if it’s final. As if he is any more a King than I am.
“Don’t make me gut you, brother.”
“You’re too weak to even try.”
“My mate is waiting for me!” I snarl, chest heaving as I tear free and push to my feet. “You can’t keep me from her! You can’t—”
“Don’t you get it, you blind fucking bastard?” Creed slams me back, eyes white fire, words splitting the room in half. “You don’t have a mate, Legend. It isn’t fucking real!”
My muscles lock tight and the room grows dead silent.
My knees buckle before I can stop them. One slams the floor hard enough that I feel bone grind. My hands curl into fists against the boards, nails biting through my palms until they drip. The taste of copper floods my mouth.