82. Arran

The walls of Eilean Gayl pressed in around me. Tighter, tighter. So close, I could not shift. I could not breathe.

On two legs, I stumbled down the stairs. No one to see me. Too late, too dark. Too alone. These walls had once shielded me, but long ago, so long ago, had failed. Then caged.

I had to get out. My beast tore at my control, shredding the ties that bound him.

I wanted to feel the cold winter air on my skin. Needed it. But the beast was in control. I shifted before I burst through the doors. Over the bridge in four massive bounds.

Then it was just me and the forest. There was no moonlight to glint off of the lake, to remind me of Veyka's hair. A ceiling of ominous shadows blocked out every star. Soon, it would rain. Maybe snow. Snow as white as my mate's skin.

Veyka, who was the other half of me. Who needed me, loved me.

But I could not give her what she needed.

She had vowed to love me forever.

I could be the High King of Annwyn, if that was what the Ancestors demanded of me. It was my duty. But to give myself to Veyka, to love her—

My beast flooded my mind with a snarl. The line between the two of us was blurring with every bound, deeper into the snowy mountains. The wolf inside of me loved her, needed her. No conditions. No questions.

But I was not the beast.

I controlled the beast.

Controlling the beast was the only way I survived. Without that control, I would turn into a monster.

But without Veyka, would I become something worse?