12. Dylan

Dylan

Chapter 12

Shit, shit, shit. I fell asleep. I can't believe I fell asleep!

Well, I mean, I could believe it, because I felt warm and safe and sated in a way I never had before, so obviously I fell asleep, but now the sun was rising, and I was gripping the vine in white-knuckled fists as I climbed back across to my window. I kept an eye out on the grounds below, expecting one of the guards to see me at any second. What would my father do to punish me? Perhaps he would punish Tris…

No one saw me, though. No calls of alarm from the guards I knew must be out there somewhere. I could smell their animals faintly on the breeze, but it seemed I'd gotten lucky. I dropped down onto my balcony with feline grace, landing in a crouch.

My smile, tentative at first, began to widen as I congratulated myself on a stealthy job well done. My panther rolled his eyes at me. You're welcome, he sassed.

Hey, I can be perfectly graceful without you, thank you very much, I snarked back, slipping through the balcony door.

Padding softly into my room, I froze, and my smile quickly dissolved. My father was sitting on the edge of my bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. His gaze was turbulent as his eyes roved across every inch of skin he could see, making sure there were no mating marks, no doubt. "Do I need to have the doctor do another examination?" he asked.

Shame attempted to needle me, bringing a blush to my cheeks, but I refused to feel anything but bliss for how my mate made me feel last night. I crossed my arms over my chest defensively. "No," I gritted out, jaw clenched.

"Good, because if Azar wins, I know he will expect to find you pure." He rose from the bed and walked toward the door.

"He won't win." It felt too early to declare it with such certainty, but I knew Tristan would win. It wasn't just a hunch or a random stab in the dark. I knew it.

My father smiled over his shoulder at me. "I hope you're right."

"Daddy?" I called before he could leave. "Please don't hurt anyone because I snuck out." I still felt guilt over Edgar's beating.

"Of course not," he said casually. "I was the one who told them to let you go. Get some rest. It's going to be a long night."

My jaw dropped, but he was gone before I could question him further. He knew I snuck out, and he let me go to Tristan? Why would he do that?

Confused but way too tired to think it through, I dragged back the blanket and crawled into my bed, still made from before I snuck out. It wasn't as warm as my mate's bed had been, and it was far too much empty space for just little old me, but for now, it would have to do. This was my last time sleeping alone, I told myself. Tristan would win the competition. Tonight, my mate would claim me, and my true life could finally begin.

I promised myself just a little nap so I could think clearly. "Just… one… hour…" I whispered to my panther as my eyes drooped shut, as if he were some kind of alarm clock, except my beast was already fast asleep.

The world came into focus far too slowly. It felt like my eyes had only been closed for a few seconds. As I blinked up at the ceiling, though, the pale sunlight painted across my bedroom wall was all wrong. The angle was coming in from the west, as if from the setting sun.

"No!" I gasped, sitting up, my head spinning at the sudden surge of adrenaline. What time was it? I was already throwing back the blanket as I cast a look at the clock. "It's after nine!" I yelped, running for the bathroom. I'd slept the entire day! People were likely already arriving downstairs for the final match.

I barely rinsed myself off in the shower before darting into my closet. I tried to shove my legs into a pair of skinny jeans, but my legs were still wet and kept sticking to the fabric. "Fuckity fuck fuck," I cursed, still buttoning my shirt when I ran out the door. The guard on duty outside my suite scrambled to chase after me.

Following my nose, taking the main stairs two and three at a time, I found my mate in the kitchen, sitting on a stool in the corner, eating a turkey sandwich. His eyes locked on me as soon as I burst through the door, panting to catch my breath. My guard nearly ran into me I'd stopped so fast, but as soon as he saw who I was staring at, he discreetly backed out of the room, positioning himself at the door.

Tristan licked a bit of mayo from the corner of his mouth, and my cock hardened at the sight. I remembered all too well how that tongue felt as it massaged my shaft. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty," he said, his voice gravelly enough that I knew he was remembering our time together too. "You look ravishing this evening." His gaze seared into me as it roamed my body.

I snorted. "Did you hit your head yesterday? You must be blind if you think I look good." I hadn't even bothered to run a comb through my hair, and I knew for a fact I still had the imprint of my pillow across my face. The heat in his eyes as he crooked a finger to beckon me closer, though? It burned away any doubt.

As soon as I was within reaching distance, he did exactly that, gripping my shirt in his fist and dragging me to stand between his legs. The kitchen staff tried to give us privacy by turning their backs, but I could still feel their curiosity. It made me think back to the fated bond my parents had shared. I understood how hard it was to look away from something so intense.

"Let's get something straight here, omega mine," Tristan said as he traced a pillow down my cheek. "You could be covered in mud and I would still find you irresistible. Dressed in a burlap sack, I would still look forward to unwrapping you. I love it when you're dressed to the nines, and I love this unruly, disheveled version just as much. It doesn't matter what you do or don't do to the outside, because I know what's in here," he said, tapping a finger on my chest over my heart. "So when I tell you you're ravishing, believe me, because my opinion is the only one that matters."

I nodded. "Okay," I whispered. I'd been leaning closer this whole time, so it was easy for him to cup the back of my neck and bring me the rest of the way. He kissed me slow and sweet, too tame for the current of need running through me.

The kitchen door swung open behind me, and the guard cleared his throat. "It's time to go."

I didn't want to move from this spot. I belonged in my mate's arms, but the logical part of my brain reminded me that the only way we could be together without risk was to get through the next hour. One fight, that was all that stood in our way.

He will win, my panther stated. It reinforced the certainty I'd felt since last night. Azar was dangerous, there was no doubt about that, but Tristan was resourceful. Clever and strong. "You will win," I told him, echoing my beast and willing it to be true.

He paused, trying to disguise the flicker of doubt with a smirk. "Of course I'll win, because you're the prize." He gave me one last hard kiss, leaving his taste in my mouth, before he nudged me back so he could hop off the stool. "Now come on. The faster we get this over with, the sooner I can claim you." His smile turned sly. "Right here…" he said, gliding his fingertip over the curve of my neck. "My mark will look beautiful on this smooth skin."

He pressed the barest kiss there before his hand coasted down my arm and entwined our fingers, but on the way out, he paused. "Excuse me, would you mind please making Dylan a sandwich?" he asked a young deer shifter who was seasoning a roast. Her pale skin blushed a bright crimson as she gawked up at him. My silly mate didn't have a clue the effect he had on others. She nodded frantically and scurried off toward the fridge.

"I'm not hungry, really," I said, tugging him toward the door, even as my stomach twisted, threatening to growl. "We're going to be late."

He quirked a brow at me. "What, are they going to start the fight without me? You need to eat, so please, let me take care of you for a moment." I heard the unspoken words, that if things went south, he might not have another chance.

It was nice to be taken care of. I mean, my father had a slew of cooks and maids and guards, all of them with instructions to give me anything I asked for, but it never felt like this. Theirs was a job to be paid for. Tristan wanted to care for me as a partner would. As my alpha would.

As the deer shifter hurried back, she held the plate out to Tristan. "Thank you," he told her, and she didn't seem to know what to do with his open gratitude. My father rarely thanked someone for a job he expected to be done. She nodded, her gaze flicking over to mine.

Tristan passed me the plate and then stood watching. It took me a second to realize he was expecting me to eat right now, so I lifted the sandwich to my mouth and took a bite, making a big deal about chewing and swallowing. Tristan watched my mouth the whole time, dragging his tongue along his lower lip in some kind of erotic display of a whole different kind of hunger. Never before had a meal turned me on.

"Good boy," he praised, and my pants grew dangerously tight. "Now let's go take care of shit so we can move on to more… entertaining exploits."

My father was waiting in the hall, looking impeccable in an all-black suit. The look on his face was half annoyed, half amused, and I blushed thinking about what he'd just overheard. He hated waiting, but there was also a glimmer of the man my father used to be. The kind and patient and reasonable man. He turned to lead the way but paused. He looked back over his shoulder at us. "I am truly sorry for this. I wish things had not already been set in motion."

Tristan shook his head, though. "There's no point in wishing for what could've been, rather than accepting what is. If things were different, I might not have met Dylan that night. Fate knows what she's doing." He peeked down at me and gave me a wink, and I squeezed his hand in mine.

I tried to finish my sandwich quickly on the way downstairs, but my stomach was churning with nerves. Maybe eating wasn't such a good idea after all…

Tristan caught me staring down at the food, my mouth pinched tight. "It's okay, baby. I'll try to wrap this up quickly, and then I'll take you out for dinner to celebrate." He snuck in one last kiss, over too quickly, and I chased after his lips, whining, when he pulled away. He chuckled. "My mate is a greedy boy."

My father cleared his throat loudly on his way down the stairs.

Clinging to Tristan's arm, my heart started racing as the noise level increased. And when my dad finally pushed the door open, I tucked myself into my mate's side.

The crowd was dialed up to fifteen. It was the full moon, and the scent of their beasts dominated the enclosed space. It was so much! But then… cutting through the onslaught, I caught the distinctive scent of wolf, and Tristan's head snapped up. I followed his line of sight and found his friend, Jude. And he wasn't alone.

Beside Jude was another wolf, one of the most powerful Alphas I'd ever felt. With salt-and-pepper hair and rich brown eyes, he wasn't particularly tall or packed with muscle, but the air around him carried weight. He was not merely a figurehead of their pack, retaining his position through birthright. This man had earned his position. His presence rivaled even that of my father, and by the ring of empty space around him, I'd guess it was felt by everyone.

"Do you want to go say hi?" I asked Tristan when he didn't immediately go over to his Alpha.

He thought about it, and I could see he wanted to, but he finally just shook his head. "No. There'll be time when we're done. Then I can officially introduce him to my mate."

"By all means, don't let me interrupt you," Azar called from where he stood already in the cage, arms held out to his sides. "It's only fair to allow you a proper goodbye since this will likely be your final farewell."

Tristan pulled off a passable easygoing grin, though I could feel the tension in him under my fingers. "I can't help but notice you don't have anyone here wishing you luck. I wonder why that is." I wasn't sure goading Azar was a good idea, but perhaps Tristan thought he could throw the Alpha off his game.

Azar's responding grin was all teeth. "It's because I'm not fool enough to trust anyone to get that close. You will be a prime example today, for how your tender heart makes you weak. You will be so distracted by your precious omega that you're likely to find yourself… off balance." There was something cunning in his eyes I didn't like.

I stepped in front of Tristan, cutting off his view of the ring. "Be careful. He's up to something."

"Don't worry, baby. I'll be right back." He kicked off his clothes and set them aside, then risked giving me a quick kiss, but no one said a word about it. Win or lose, it would all resolve itself in the cage.

As Tristan made his way through the gate, I placed myself outside the cage, torturing myself with a front-row seat. To my surprise, my father moved to my side, shoulder to shoulder with me, offering his support. His guards formed a circle around us.

The padlock clicked shut, and my heart gave a jerky thump in my chest, my breath coming out in a wheeze. "No hard feelings," I heard Azar say, offering a hand to Tristan. "May the best man win."

My gaze zeroed in on that hand, his knuckles wrapped with tape. He'd never bothered to wrap his hands before…

Tristan hesitated, glancing at me, before stepping forward and reaching to take his hand. I felt like I'd been doused in ice-water, but I didn't even have time to gasp. Tristan hissed and tried to pull his hand back, but Azar had him in a tight grip. The Alpha leaned closer, and I strained my ears to hear him, but it was nothing more than the barest whisper. When Azar let go, Tristan stared down at his palm, face slack with the first hint of fear I'd seen from him.

"What was that? Did you see—?" I asked my father, not sure how to finish the question, because there hadn't been anything to see. Father just shook his head, frowning.

My father reluctantly gave the signal for the match to begin, and they both sprang into action. Azar didn't hesitate to take a swipe of his glinting claws in an upward arc, and Tristan stumbled back, barely avoiding a lethal attack. He kept retreating until he came up against the cage wall, using a hand to brace himself.

I clutched at my chest, bunching my shirt in my fist. Something was wrong. Azar strolled around the ring, in no hurry, pacing leisurely. Every other match he fought, he'd ended it quickly without even needing to shift. What game was he playing?

"What's the matter?" Azar jeered. "Puppy seems a little slow. Maybe he was too distracted to sleep last night." He turned to me and gave a little tsk.

The room was spinning around me, and it felt like I couldn't catch my breath. Was that true? Did fooling around with my mate last night leave him tired? But that couldn't be right. He'd been fine a few minutes ago. This was something else.

I turned to look at my father, and he seemed deep in thought, a heavy crease between his eyebrows. He wasn't cheering for either of them. He couldn't be seen playing favorites when he had a fifty-fifty chance of Azar winning. Oh gods, I would die before letting that monster claim me.

I watched in horror as Tristan nearly tripped over his own feet. He was blinking hard, as if to clear his eyes. "Something is wrong," I hissed in my father's ear. "Azar must've drugged him with that handshake. He's not fighting fair. You have to stop the match! Please, Daddy!" I shook his arm, begging for him to intervene.

My father shook his head sadly. "I can't, Dylan. It's too late." My stomach dropped. From the first moment I set eyes on my mate, it was too late. Fate was already in motion.

Azar tilted his head, watching Tristan stumble around the cage, trying to keep distance between them. He seemed quite pleased by what he saw. Tristan's skin had gone pale, a thin sheen of clammy sweat making him look sick. With horror, I watched Azar lift his clawed hand in the air, prepared to strike a blow.

My mate, however, was not ready to go down without a fight. With a sluggish scrape of his hand, Tristan scratched himself on the thigh with his own claws. I was confused about why he would do that… until I saw the drip of blood down his leg. He'd forced first blood. Yes! He needed to shift. His wolf would help clear the poison, whatever it was.

Azar paused, momentarily impressed. "Clever boy," he purred, his voice beginning to deepen and rattle in his throat as his body rippled with the shift. "But not even your wolf can save you now."

It seemed he might've been right, because as Tristan fell to his knees, his beast was slow in appearing. White fur sprouted, and his whole body heaved, trying to expel whatever was making him sick. Azar, however, had no difficulty in shifting.

His tiger was an absolute beauty, with rich orange, white, and black fur, and when he opened his jaws in a stretch, his four-inch incisors gleamed in the spotlights overhead. He easily weighed 500 pounds, whereas Tristan's wolf probably topped out at 150.

Or he usually did, anyway, when he could fully shift.

Shaking his body, Tristan finally managed to complete the transformation, but I could tell it was a struggle to hold onto it. Azar made a lazy pounce, and Tristan's wolf hopped away. Unfortunately, it wasn't fast enough to avoid the tiger's claws entirely. He yelped, and red bloomed across his beautiful white coat, the droplets pattering down on the mat.

I gasped, hooking my fingers into the wire links, biting my lips to keep from crying out. I was helpless to stop this, but I refused to look away. I could hear bets being made in the crowd around us, money exchanging hands, almost entirely in Azar's favor.

"Ten grand on the wolf," I heard someone say, and I turned my head to see it was Tristan's Alpha. He met my gaze and nodded firmly. I allowed his unwavering confidence to fill me.

I tried not to see the way my mate's white coat had become a bloody mess of matted fur, or the way his head hung low, drool dripping from his lolling tongue. Azar was toying with him, batting him around the ring. Tristan would barely get his legs under himself before being knocked again.

Tears were flowing freely down my cheeks. "Please," I whimpered, my legs threatening to give out. My entire body throbbed with phantom pain, with my mate's pain. My father braced an arm around my waist, and I sagged against him.

Any second this match would be over.

As his wolf collapsed, the shift receded, leaving my Tristan naked and broken, sprawled across the mat. He pushed up with shaky arms until he was kneeling. Open your eyes, I begged silently. I felt like if I could just see his eyes, I would know he was okay.

But he didn't open his eyes, and nothing was okay. His chest moved heavily as he struggled to breathe. And I forced myself to watch as the tiger moved in.