Rage climbed to his feet, his entire body swaying with the effort. ‘It feels … like … I’m being … electrocuted.’

Clive charged toward my mate, his aggression increasing with every step.

Remembering the mage dressed in seafoam-green robes that had been talking to him earlier, I looked at the high mages. Kian and the others watched the fight, but my grandfather wasn’t on stage. ‘You said the high mages stayed out of shifter affairs!’ I yelled at my grandfather, hopefully projecting my thoughts into his head. ‘But someone gave Clive magic.’

Rage tried to shake off the effects of the magic, but as he bared his teeth at the other wolf, I could feel my mate’s trepidation.

My body trembled with emotion. Frustration. Betrayal. Rage.

‘What color is the magic?’ Grandpa Geoff replied in my mind.

‘Aren’t you watching?’ I asked, my chest heaving as the two wolves again locked in battle.

‘I’m… not feeling well.’ His voice trembled, and additional concern rolled through me.

As the two wolves bit at one another, my distress increased. Clive swung his head, giving Rage a clear shot at the gray wolf’s throat, but Rage didn’t take it. Instead, my mate went for the wolf’s shoulder—not a killing blow.

The crowd booed.

‘What color?’ Grandpa asked again.

Tears pricked at my eyes. ‘Blue. Electric blue, but it’s super faint and only at Clive’s throat.’

I told him what I’d seen before the ceremony started, racing through how I’d noticed a mage in a seafoam green robe give Clive something. ‘What could they give him to make this happen?’

‘Most likely a protection spell,’ Grandpa said. ‘Tricky. Depending on how it was cast, there may not be anyone besides you and the high mage who cast it who can see it.’

What?

‘How is that possible?’ Did that even matter right now? Maybe … but not nearly as much as my next question. ‘What can I do? How do we break it?’

‘You can’t. Not without touching the spell. And you’d need the spellbreaker root.’

‘I have it!’ I fumbled with my clutch and then pulled out the canvas bag, relieved that I’d brought it to return to him today. There was a large chunk of the root left. ‘Now what?’

‘You’ll have to mix it with your blood and get it directly on the curse.’

Chances of Clive stopping the fight so I could wipe him with the green-glowy concoction: 0.0001%. Maybe even less than that.

The two wolves snapped at each other, both tearing into the other at a furious rate. The red carpet was streaked with crimson—their blood smearing with bits of fur as they rolled, scratching and biting.

My heart thundered against my ribs with the terrible realization. There was no way for Rage to win this fight unless we broke the spell at Clive’s throat. It was keeping him from going for the kill. This was a fight to the death, and the likelihood of Rage getting to another significant artery was super slim. With our werewolf healing, the peripheral arteries healed too fast to bleed to death.

‘Can I send the magic of the mixture through our bond?’ I asked Grandpa Geoff as I chewed on the root and tried to think outside the box. I held my hand out to Honor. ‘Please bite me.’

He’d seen what I did for his mom, and without saying anything, Honor bit into the meat of my hand and tugged, opening a deep gash. I winced as the pain radiated from my palm, but I ignored it. Spitting the mixture into the wound, I grimaced as I mashed it into the blood.

‘Grandpa?’ Maybe if I rubbed the spellbreaker blend on me and then—

‘No. You need to apply it to the spell for it to break it.’

Damn. Damn. Damn.

I hollered to Rage: ‘I need you to get Clive over here so I can rub this spellbreaker mixture on his throat and break the spell he is illegally using!’ Still, no idea how I would do that.

Rage froze as I spoke to him, and Clive lunged.

The crunch of Rage’s bone tore through me, worse knowing I’d caused the distraction. I looked up to see my mate crumple to the carpet.

No!

What had Sara said about me being able to take some of Rage’s pain? Would it even work without us having sealed the bond?

I had to try.

Closing my eyes, I imagined siphoning away some of Rage’s pain, sucking the blinding agony into my body.

Nothing.

The only pain I felt was on his behalf—its own kind of agony.

Maybe I could send him healing vibes. Focusing on the mate marks on my finger, I visualized how the same lines traced his finger. The curves and swirls connected us—a connection I loved because I’d grown to love him.

Fate may have picked us, but we chose each other right back. The love I felt for him was more than blind adoration. He was brave. Kind. Thoughtful. Loyal.

My right forearm began to throb; then the deep ache of a broken bone sent a wave of pain through me, and I sucked it into myself, knowing I was sparing Rage a portion of the discomfort.

Thank the mage. It worked!

I looked up as Rage delivered a similar bone-crushing bite to Clive’s back leg.

The grey wolf went down with a whine.

This time, instead of Rage going for Clive’s throat, my mate took the opportunity to crawl toward me. Wait … why was he crawling?

My arm hurt bad enough—

That’s when I noticed his other wounds.

Blood dripped from Rage’s muzzle, his shoulder looked like ground meat, and several deep gashes ran along his ribs.

Clive was no less battered. The gray wolf’s face was marred by new wounds that oozed as did the ones on his flanks and middle. Like Rage, he had several deep gashes from where he’d been clawed during the fight.

The battle for alpha king had extended several minutes—minutes that were hours and lifetimes and eternities.

I opened myself to Rage’s other wounds … and crumpled to my knees, gasping.

Mother … Mage.

Anyone who looked on might have just seen a grieving mate, but Sarah had a knowing look in her eye and gave me a short nod of approval from across the room.

‘Let it go,’ he said to me, his gaze boring into me. ‘I can bear this.’

‘No,’ I gasped.

Clive climbed to his feet, barely resting any weight on his left flank. Baring bloody teeth with tufts of black fur between them, Clive hobbled toward Rage.

They were four feet from me when Clive lunged.

Rage let him.

The crowd gasped as Clive bit into Rage’s flank and yanked him backward.

My mate bellowed with the pain; the sound shattered the din.

Panic bludgeoned me, and I reached to take more pain, but Rage snarled, ‘Don’t you dare.’

Shocked, I drew back, my eyes wide.

‘Get that damn paste on him,’ he gasped, dragging his shredded body closer.

I sucked in a deep breath as Clive stepped around from Rage’s back, coming within a foot of me, and circled in for the kill. This could still work.

‘Honor, get ready to knock me over into the fight. Make it look like an accident.’

The black wolf pressed in on my side in response.

My skin prickled, and my stomach churned. The timing would have to be right, but—

‘As soon as this is finished and that curse is gone, Justice can challenge him and win.’