Facing the Enemy
*Hezzlie*
My mate is the most powerful wolf in the world, I have no doubt. Yet, even Rowan needs a helping hand sometimes. I suppose that’s why the Moon Goddess made fated mates to begin with, so that everyone has a partner to go through this life with. He might not have wanted me to be this close to the battle, but most of the fighting is over, and if I hadn’t been here, he would’ve been jumped from behind by those assholes Zeb called in when he couldn’t fight fair and square.
My mate has already given me permission to go along with him to fight King Solomon, but as we progress over the torn ground, the fighting begins to hedge in a bit. OUr enemies are being pushed back, which makes this more dangerous. I can still see the king in his human form standing near the castle, but he’s retreated slightly
Rowan turns to face me, blood dripping from his muzzle. He looks like a nightmare, his fur streaked with the crimson substance. ‘Thank you for your help, Hezzlie, but you really should go back now.’
I stare at him for a moment before I shake my head. “Nope.” He tips his head to the side and stares at me. “You already said I can go with you. The king is going to be tricky to kill. You might need me.”
‘He’s a coward,’ my mate reminds me. ‘He’s incapable of fighting for himself. Once I get to him, he will die a painful death in a matter of moments.’
“And yet,” I continue, “the fact that he is also a sneaky bastard tells me that I should go with you, in case he tries to pull off something like Zeb just did.”
Rowan rolls his wolf eyes, but he can’t make an argument against that. So he turns around and begins to head toward King Solomon again, but he’s moving faster now, probably trying to lose me, jerk. He leaps over fallen wolves and even pauses to rip the throat out of one who happens to stumble back too close to us in his retreat. I rush to keep up, considering shifting to do so, but I don’t. Rowan isn’t as fast as usual with his father’s chain male on. I can see a few places where it’s been ripped or pushed aside, so perhaps it didn’t help as much as he’d hoped. But I’m sure it’s the sentimental value that has made it worth it to him to have it on. He moves like he’s forgotten he’s even wearing it, but without the extra weight, he’d probably be long gone.
We climb the slight rise that makes up the courtyard of the castle. The grass here is a vibrant green, unmarred by the bloody battle behind us. A line of wolves five strong stands in front of King Solomon. As Rowan reaches them, they snarl and squat down on their haunches, ready to attack.
Rowan pulls up short, surveying the situation. I could move them all with one sweep of my hand, but I know that Rowan doesn’t want me to do that. So I pause behind him, glaring at the king who looks scared enough that he might just piss his pants.
I guess this isn’t going like he had planned.
“Well, look what the fucking cat dragged in,” King Solomon says, pretending to be tough. But I hear the waiver in his voice. “You can’t honestly think that you can make it past my toughest guards, do you? There are five of them, and only one of you, you pathetic little bastard.”
Rowan snarls at him, and King Solomon laughs maniacally, but it’s all an act, and I know it. I hear the vibration in his tone as it trails off.
The first of the five wolves, the one in the middle, takes a step forward. He’s not as large as Rowan, but he’s big. And unlike my mate, these five haven’t been in the midst of battle for the last couple of hours.
The moment the large gray wolf steps forward, Rowan pounces. He goes directly for the wolf’s throat, knocking him backward onto the ground and ripping out his throat in one snap of his jaws.
I watch King Solomon’s eyes widen in fear as he takes a few hurried steps backward. “Don’t just stand there!” he barks to the other four wolves who are meant to be protecting him. “Get him! Get him!”
None of them look particularly excited to follow their colleague to hell, but their Alpha King has given them a command, so it’ll be nearly impossible for them to refuse.
The two on the edges move in slowly, trying to time their attack so that they meet Rowan at the same time. The two in the middle hesitate slightly, waiting for someone else to go first. Rowan doesn’t give them time to get their shit together, though. He lashes out at the one on his left, sinking his fangs into the shoulder of the huge gray wolf. He lifts the beast off the ground like he weighs nothing and slams his body into the wolf on the right, knocking that one into the one on the end. The other wolf waits until Rowan’s back is turned and then leaps at him, but my mate is too fast. He spits out the first wolf and turns so quickly I can hardly keep track of him, sweeping the legs from beneath the final wolf and sending him toppling into the pile of wounded warriors.
The four of them are dazed, lying on the ground. Rowan doesn’t give them a chance to recover. He pounces on top of the pile, and all I see is flying fur, splatters of blood, and what looks like fragments of bone and ligaments raining down on him as he decimates King Solomon’s henchmen.
In a matter of seconds, the group of wolves that stood between the two enemy Alpha Kings are all dead.
Rowan’s entire head is covered in blood as he turns toward Alpha King Solomon, his pink teeth gleaming in the waning sunlight.
The distinct smell of urine fills my lungs, mingled with the coppery scent of blood as King Solomon soils himself. Then, he turns on his heel and begins to run.
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