Khour’s hand was mangled beyond recognition. It looked like the chopped meat Maddie feeds us. She calls it hamburger.
WarDog grabs the other hand and this time bites more slowly, all the while pricking his ears so we hear the delicious sounds of Khour’s high, anguished screams of pain.
As soon as WarDog releases the pressure, Khour tries to sound in control. He even manages to add a sneer to his tortured voice when he says, “I remember your piece of drack planet. Is that what this is about? I seem to remember setting a village on fire many annums ago. Whichever backwoods primitive male you are, I should have never let you live.”
He must realize he can’t bribe his way out of this, so he’s decided he’ll try to injure our feelings with his words. Perhaps he’s lost all hope and wants to spur us on to hasten the killing blow that will end his suffering.
“As I recall that was a fun day. I remember it well. The smell of smoke in my nose couldn’t overpower the stench of your unwashed tribe or the metallic scent of blood. It flowed in rivers, didn’t it?”
He must sense that he’s gotten to us because he keeps up his stream of verbal shit.
“The silence of the dead and the cries of the dying. Ahh, I remember it as if it was this morning.” He sniffs in long and deep, enjoying the memory.
“You lived. I must have sent you to fight in your canine form. Did you think of me often? Perhaps thank me for allowing you to express your animal urges?”
Does he see a hint of weakness on WarDog’s face as he taunts us, because he continues.
“How many times did you picture that day? Did I haunt your dreams? Funny. I never gave that day another thought except to remember those rivers of blood.”
Although he’s mangled, bloody, and in pain, the gaze he spears me with is full of contempt.
Enough, I tell WarDog. Show him what painful emotions really feel like, I urge.
Tell me when we can end this. I could do this all day but I want to get back and mate Willa.
I never would have thought WarDog would be the more level-headed of the two of us, but today he is.
A pang of guilt slices through me. If my inner canine is ready for this to be over, I should be, too. He’s right, Willa is waiting, and in my bloodlusted mind set on making this male suffer, I’m prolonging her suffering with every minima we’re apart.
Okay, I tell him, get the job done.
I have to give WarDog credit. He could literally bite the male’s head off, or rip his carotid out of his neck and get this over in an instant. Instead, he bites the male’s arm where there is no body armor so I can appreciate the male’s high, female screams of pain, then WarDog shakes his head like canines do when they have prey in their mouths. He keeps shaking, slamming the wall on either side until the male’s body acts more like a ragdoll than a humanoid.
He might not be dead yet, but he’s certainly no longer conscious.
WarDog finally lets the body slump to the floor and nudges it with his nose.
Think he’s dead? he asks.
Don’t worry. I’ll make certain of it after I switch back. Before you shift, I have something I want to say.
I feel him edge nearer, his head cocked as he waits.
Apologies. I’ve resented you. Maybe I was even a bit jealous. You were out for all that time. So long. I lost myself. Then I shifted out and Willa felt more comfortable with you than me. She shared more of herself with you. She seemed to prefer you.
But I don’t want that again. Ever. We’re a team. I want Willa to be my mate, and I want you to be part of whatever life we create together. I know she loves you, too. I’m sorry. I’ll never banish you again.
He heaves a huge gust of air, relaxing perhaps for the first time since Khour stepped out of that hover a decade ago.
I missed you, he says with the full force of his golden eyes staring into mine as we face each other in my mind. I had to take care of everything when you were forced to hide from me for so long. I had to fight. I had to endure . . . so much. Then you finally shifted back and you shunned me. It hurt. I didn’t have you. I didn’t have Willa. I was lonely. I’d like for us to be a team again. We work well together.
With that, we both glance at the dead male not two fiertos away. I haven’t seen him twitch, or breathe, but as soon as I shift, my dirk will be up to the hilt in his heart just for good measure. Although I’m not sure he has a heart.
And then we’ll call the Fool. And we’ll return to our mate. And although mates shouldn’t keep secrets, perhaps we should never tell her just how much we enjoyed what happened in this room. With a huff that sounds remarkably like a laugh, WarDog agrees.
As I shift back, I become painfully aware of where Khour stabbed me with the broken end of a statuette. It hurts like the burning fires of seven hells. Dracker.
The pain again slips to the back of my awareness when I allow myself to share WarDog’s pride and satisfaction that we fulfilled the promise of revenge we made to our uncle, mother, and friends on that fateful day over ten annums ago.
We did it.
