Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King novel Chapter 60

Chapter 60: Fated Mate Blood Is Always A Bitch

The dark had a pulse. Guinevere could hear it. Could feel it in her teeth, in her ribs, in the place where her wolf used to live. Maddox’s voice came through like sound underwater, distorted and warm and too far away to grab.

She reached for it, but her fingers closed on nothing. Then the dark swallowed her again.

✦✦✦

"She needs blood and liquids. Yesterday." Aldric walked with Maddox without a word, checking Guinevere’s pulse. He’d heard bits from Sterling and Ryker, but none from Maddox yet.

Aldric didn’t sugarcoat it. "She’s crashing because she’s out of blood, not because of the dark magic." Aldric set up the draw line. "Fated mates are always a match."

Maddox rolled up his sleeve to his bicep. "You’re wasting time explaining what I already know. Take it."

The blood helped. Her color came back enough that a lesser healer might have called it progress. Her pulse found a rhythm that didn’t skip, and for ten minutes Maddox let himself believe the worst was over. It wasn’t. She didn’t open her eyes. Aldric ran a second bag of fluids and her body took them and gave nothing back. Her temperature climbed.

"Maddox." Aldric’s voice was careful, which was not a word anyone had ever associated with Aldric. "Her body isn’t stabilizing."

Maddox gripped the edge of the bed. His knuckles were still split from the ravine wall. He’d already watched her die once tonight, and his body had memorized every second of it, and it was happening again and he could not, would not, survive the replay.

Aldric didn’t know what happened in that jungle. It was a black ops.

What he knew was that wolves had been embedded on a dragon strike team, which was unusual enough to note, and that the woman in front of him was half wolf and dying from the half he couldn’t treat.

"The wolves on that team. Are they still in Drakencrest?"

Maddox’s silence was its own answer.

"I’ll take that as a yes. If one of them is willing to give blood, it’s our best bet. Wolf blood for a wolf. That’s the math."

"Yeah. I’ll get him."

He left Aldric with Guinevere and walked the corridor with a purpose that felt like swallowing glass.

Nicholas and his men had been given quarters in the east wing ambassador suites. Maddox had forgotten about that, and it was probably for the better.

He didn’t get far. Nicholas was already coming from the opposite direction, moving fast, hand pressed to his chest.

"Her heartbeat is wrong." Nicholas stopped three feet from Maddox. "I can feel it stuttering. What’s happening?"

Fated mate blood is always a match. The thought hit him differently now, standing in this corridor, looking at a wolf who had felt Guinevere’s pulse stutter from three wings away.

Maddox had known that since the war room meeting with Nicholas.

Nicholas was her fated mate. The wolf to her wolf. The other half of a woman who had always been two things at once.

Maddox had thought he’d accepted this in the war room. He’d thought he’d come to terms with it. He hadn’t. Every time the thought rose, he’d swatted it down so fast he’d confused the reflex for resolution. But knowing and accepting were different animals, and Maddox had been feeding one while starving the other.

Because admitting Nicholas was telling the truth meant admitting that Maddox wasn’t enough for her on his own. That she needed something he couldn’t provide. That the wolf in her had chosen someone, and it wasn’t him. It wasn’t him. It was never going to be him. And the sooner he stopped fighting that, the sooner she might survive the night.

"Yeah. Follow me."

Maddox led Nicholas through corridors that got progressively more private, past guards who noted Nicholas’s presence and said nothing because Maddox’s face made it clear that commentary would be a career-ending decision.

He was taking a wolf Alpha to his personal quarters. To the room where Guinevere slept in his arms every night. The invasion of it burned, but Guinevere was in that room, and nothing between Maddox and Guinevere’s survival was an obstacle. It was a door to walk through.

Nicholas entered the room and his eyes went straight to her with I.V. and the shallow rise of her chest. His hand went to his own chest.

Aldric assessed Nicholas in three seconds. "Alpha blood is the absolute best. This works out well."

Neither Maddox nor Nicholas said the word fated. The truth stayed where it was. Aldric drew Nicholas’s blood, hung it, and ran the second line.

The effect was gradual but visible. Her pulse, still uneven, found a rhythm that held for more than thirty seconds at a time.

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