Mavritte stumbled away, tripping over herself in confusion.

What did Lore do?

The seconds dragged on interminably, the hounds as one beginning to call out in agitated voices.

“He can’t hold it this long!” Mina cried, gripping Talia’s coat sleeve.

“Hold what?” Talia’s eyes were blurred with tears of fright.

“The state between man and hound!”

Talia thought about it—there was a brief second between forms where the hounds looked like a cloud of black dust. What happened if he stayed that way too long? Did he ever come back?

Oh, God, Lore . . .

But the hound dropped from the air, crushing Mavritte beneath his weight. Lore gripped Mavritte’s throat in his jaws, one massive paw covering the knife.

A cry of wonder sounded from the hounds. Apparently the vanishing act was a big show of power, but Talia was focused on what came next. The throat-ripping part. Is he going to do it? Talia wanted to turn away and needed to watch.

“He can’t!” Mina hissed. “No, the fight was over! He should finish it.”

There was no tearing of throats. A sob mixed of frustration and relief escaped Talia’s throat.

Lore was back in human form, holding the stiletto. He stood under the streetlight, his figure dark and sharply defined against the backdrop of snow. “Mavritte of the Redbones, you broke the laws that rule the fight for dominance,” he said in a deadly voice.

Mavritte scrambled to her feet, putting some distance between her and Lore, but the crowd tightened around the ring, blocking any escape she might have planned.

“Kill me,” she snarled. “If you think you’ve won, end this!”

Lore’s face was back to that neutral expression. Somehow it was worse than if he’d been screaming at her. “You lose the right to challenge me, Mavritte of the Redbones. Your people and your property belong to the Alpha of the Lurcher pack. To me.”

She fell on her knees. “Will you protect my people?”

“They are my people now. I will protect them.”

That’s why she did this. She knew this would happen if she cheated. She sacrificed herself for the sake of her hounds.

Talia’s skin prickled with shock. She hadn’t expected selflessness from Mavritte. “Is her life forfeit?”

“Not unless Lore demands it.”

So he doesn’t have to kill her. Talia narrowed her eyes. There was something suspiciously convenient about the match. Lore lost nothing. Mavritte got something she wanted. She had secured the best king with the most resources to watch over her hounds, even though it cost her pride and rank among her own people.

Talia felt a wave of respect for the she-hound, but it was short-lived.

“Will you take a mate?” Mavritte asked Lore, in a loud, clear voice.

The crowd went utterly silent. Talia could hear the hum of the streetlights above. Lore hesitated, turning the knife over and over in his hand. Talia froze as his gaze veered her way, touching her face.

“I will take a mate of my own choosing.”

Talia’s spirits sank as every hound turned her way, disapproval and anxiety in their eyes. She stood between them and their future. If Lore stayed with her, there would be no young. Hellhound souls couldn’t be reborn. Soul mates couldn’t be found. The life of the pack wouldn’t go on.

Their expressions all said one thing. She had no business with their king. She wasn’t even properly alive.

Lore couldn’t lie. His choice was clear—he wanted her.

But she wasn’t what they needed or wanted in their Alpha’s mate. But he was what they needed in their leader. Even Mavritte knew it, and was willing to pay a huge price to have him lead her pack.

Talia’s body ached. She was dying all over again.

I can’t be that selfish. I have to let him go. She exchanged a long look with Osan Mina.

“Okay,” was all she said.

Mina gave a single nod, and turned her face toward her king. The connection between them stopped dead, suddenly sliced away. It was as if Talia had instantly ceased to be.

Talia turned her back and walked away, her whole body burning with anguish. She heard commotion behind her, cries of disbelief and confusion.

Don’t let him be coming. Don’t let him. This is hard enough.

“Talia!” Lore ran past her, turning, blocking her path. “Why are you leaving?”

His bare chest was heaving, though he couldn’t be out of breath from such a short run.

I love you.

Kind, brave, in love with her, practically declaring himself in front of the whole world—how much more perfect could Lore be? She began to feel tiny sobs bubbling up through her frame. “You know why. They need you—all of you. You have to be with someone from your pack. If you leave them and come with me, it will destroy you. Maybe not right away, but you’ll come to hate me.”

Shock widened his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“The pack doesn’t have a future if you take me. I can’t be a pack mother.”

“Those are all just myths!”

“That doesn’t matter. It’s what they believe that counts. That’s the hound tradition. Even if it doesn’t make sense to anyone else, that’s who you are. Turn away from that and you lose as surely as if Mavritte cut out your heart.”

He shook his head, beyond words.

“You know it’s true.”

“Talia, I love you!”

She clenched her teeth, trying to summon anger to get past the sadness robbing her strength. “Don’t be ridiculous. We barely know each other.” But I love you.

He reached for her, but then dropped his hand when she skirted around him. “If you doubt how much your people count on you, think about what Mavritte just did. She gave up everything so you could be the king.”

“Talia, damn you.” He grabbed her arm, pulling her close. “I’m not leaving my pack and I’m not letting you go. If the Prophets want me as Alpha, they’re going to have to fix this.”

“Lore, if I’ve learned one thing, we can’t change what we are.”

He kissed her face, starting with her eyes, her cheeks, her lips, wordlessly pleading with her. “I know you’re the one I have to have. I know your scent.”

“Lore,” Talia said, his name more a sob than a word.

He cupped her face, forcing her to look into his eyes. “Don’t tell me that you don’t love me. Don’t lie to me.”

“Pick someone else.”

“Don’t I have a say in any of this?”

The pain in his words ripped through her. She pulled away. “Not unless hellhound soul mates are reborn as vampires.”

He fell back a step. The movement was awkward, unsteady. Not like Lore at all. “You can walk away from here, Talia.”

“Don’t,” she said desperately, knowing exactly what was coming.

“You can walk away, but I’m not letting you go. I’m fighting for you.”

Talia pulled herself together, scrabbling for enough strength to go on. “You’re smarter than that.”

“I didn’t get my hounds out of the Castle by giving up.” A stubborn look she’d not seen before settled over his features. “This isn’t over.”

Talia swallowed, shoving her hands into her pockets so she wouldn’t reach out to him. He looked angry, but he also looked hurt. “Think about what you’re doing,” she said.

Then she walked away from him, the most gorgeous, half-naked man she was ever likely to meet, however immortal she was. And his beauty was the least of her loss. There would never be another Lore.

Cold tears streamed down her face.

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