over the bone handle.
It pulsed against my skin. I loosened my grip, then, remembering why I needed it, tightened my hold again. The internal reminder took only a second, but when I looked up, ready to pounce, the animal was gone.
A man stood in his place. Naked, he looked more muscular than he had clothed.
A tattoo of a wolverine covered the top half of his shoulder, but I didn't spend long studying his art. My focus latched onto his hands instead, on the squirming, screeching child he held over his head.
He didn't bend or move to protect himself. He stood straight and tall. I thought I had him, thought I'd won. Then the bird, whatever it was, swooped low, grabbed the bundled baby in its talons, and soared away.
Thea cursed again, louder and rougher than before. I felt her scrutiny, hard and accusing, but I didn't glance at her.
One elbow locked around the son's neck, I pulled back my free hand, the one holding the knife, and thrust down toward his chest.
I landed without warning on the rock-strewn ground. The impact surprised and jarred me. My jaws snapped together and my fingers flew open. The knife fell to the ground and I tumbled onto my back. Unarmed, I didn't pause; I shoved myself up and, seeing it now only inches away, grabbed my staff.
I pivoted slowly, looking for the son. He was close and back in his animal form. We were alone now; Thea had left, in pursuit of the bird, I assumed. I had no idea how she meant to catch it, or if she could, but here and now I had my own battle to fight. I focused on the son.
I moved forward, my staff low and positioned to strike against his now smaller body. The snorting growl I'd heard earlier grew louder, and his eyes glittered with dark emotion.
I swung. With a sickening thud, the end of my staff collided with his head. He slid backward, his claws scrambling at the ground and his growl growing so loud it was almost a roar.
In seconds he was back on his feet. He circled to my left, his teeth snapping. He was watching me, calculating my next move.
He bared his teeth, declaring a challenge.
Deep in the battle, I released a yell, sidestepped, and jabbed at his head-this time with enough force to kill.
My staff collided with dirt and rock. The impact reverberated up my arms and into my body. I jumped back as if electrocuted and surveyed the ground, searching, wondering what the hell had happened, how I'd missed.
A hand shot forward and grabbed my staff, or tried to. I sidestepped, twisting the staff up and over my head, then lashed sideways, aiming for where a lifetime of practice told me a throat would be located.
The son, a man now, again completely naked, dropped to a crouch. My staff flew harmlessly over his head.
I recovered again, pulling the staff back and bracing my legs for my next thrust.
'Give it up. We won't let you have the baby.' He stood slowly, his eyes telling me not to swing, that despite his calm words he was ready for my next move.
'Won't let us have what is already ours? Perhaps you'd like to think again.'
His eyes glittered, not the same eyes I'd seen staring at me from the animal's face, but the expression. . the hate. . it was a perfect match.
'Yours?' he asked and snorted. 'You can't own a child, can't do with it as you please, Zery. Not as long as the sons are here to stop you.'
Despite my best intentions, I jerked. He knew my name.
I tightened my jaw, then pulled my lips into a smile. 'I don't remember being introduced.'
'Don't you? Zery Kostovska.' He tilted his head and studied my face. I kept it void of all emotion. 'I feel like we've met. I know so much about you. . how even in a house full of Amazons, you keep yourself apart. How you come here to the woods when no one else does. How you pride yourself on being the perfect Amazon queen.' He laughed at the last.
'Who are you?' I asked.
'Me?' He grinned. His teeth were even and white. 'I'm your fairy godfather. The sons assigned me to watch over you and your little camp of Amazons. Do you feel special?' He shook his head, a mocking imitation of motherly letdown. 'I was so disappointed when I saw you in Beloit, realized you were part of their plan.' He looked at me again, his scrutiny intense. 'You really should try not to disappoint me.'
He moved then.
I swung my staff.
And the son did the impossible. He caught it with his bare hand.
I'd had my blows parried before, but not by many and not easily. But the man staring at me had caught my staff without moving more than his arm. Even the cocky slant of his brow hadn't altered.
Then he did something no one had dared to do before. He jerked my staff toward his body, jerking me there too. His arm slipped behind my waist and he held me tight against his naked form. My breasts already compressed by my workout bra were crushed more. The only things separating us were my thin tee and shorts and the staff we both still held.
I didn't struggle; my eyes met his. The weak struggled; the strong simply escaped. . when they were ready.
'One question. Why? Why are you doing this? Oh, I forgot. . that's how the Amazons stay strong, isn't it? Preying on the most defenseless?'
Anger flooded my body, but I forced calm into my voice. 'The Amazons stay strong because we are strong.'
He laughed. 'Of course. And only the strong deserve to survive.'
'Basic law of nature-the strong survive. You have issues with that?' I asked.
'Yes.' He jerked me closer. 'If it's at the cost of someone else's survival.'
He was talking nonsense. 'You threaten me, I'll fight back. You steal from me, I'll steal back. If you expected something else, you don't know the Amazons.'
His lips quirked, but without humor. 'Oh, I know the Amazons. Way better than I'd like. Take my mother, for example. . I know her, know she cast me aside, not because she couldn't raise me, but because she thought I was beneath her. At least that was all she did. She didn't kill me or maim me. I suppose I should be grateful for that. Other sons weren't so lucky. Some of us curse our mothers, but me?' He shrugged a shoulder. 'You can't hate a rattler for being a snake, can you? Just like you can't hate an Amazon for being a bitch.'
The venom in his voice was harsh, but our reality was harsh. An example of why the sons didn't belong with us. My mother didn't raise me, but while I couldn't claim to love her, or miss her now that we made no pretense of familial care, I didn't bemoan my fate. Being raised by surrogates, one after the other, had made me strong, taught me early on what emotional commitments did to you, how they weakened you.
But I had no interest in explaining any of this to this son and, based on the rage simmering behind his dark eyes, he had no interest in hearing anything I had to say.
He leaned closer; his breath-it smelled of spearmint-stirred my hair. 'What about you, Zery? You ever curse your mother?'
Then he pulled back and his hand moved, from my waist to the back of my neck. . to one of my tattoos. . if he touched the others I'd desert my submissive act.
'You wear Artemis's crescent, but do you follow her, Zery? Really?' His fingers brushed over my skin.
The tattoo was a gift, one I'd received when I'd accepted my role as queen. It tied me to Artemis, awakened some of her strengths inside me. All queens had them, high priestesses too, although theirs was on the inside of one wrist.
His fingers touched both the ink and the magic buried there; a tingle swept through my body.
Another surprise.
