Munro (Immortals After Dark #18) by Kresley Cole

            But she was alive. As he sped toward her, she gave a signal to her hunters not to attack him, then marched forward to meet him. She sheathed her sword—but not her knife.

            He stopped before her. Between breaths, he said, “You’re coming with me.”

            “You know I won’t leave my people behind. Be reasonable.”

            “Reasonable? All I do is bloody listen to reason! This is no’ reasonable.”

            The groom limped over, in rough shape. To fight me? Munro might’ve laughed if less had been on the line.

            “She’s yours,” the cub said. “Take her from here.”

            He gained a notch in Munro’s estimation. “Done.” Munro advanced on her.

            But she brandished that knife. “Your third dance with my blade will be your last.”

            Jacob said, “Ren, I meant what I said. I want more for you. I release you from this marriage. Go with him and survive!”

            She shook her head. “I pledged my life to this cause. And to you.”

            He swallowed thickly, but said, “Wolf, take her. Just go.”

            Eyes fierce, she told Munro. “I’ll fight you every inch. You’ll never have peace, will never get what you desire. You want me to look favorably upon your suit? Then incentivize me. Crush our enemies.”

            More hunters gathered round. Munro ignored them. “There’s no time!” He was about to be erased out of existence, and none of this would ever have happened. “If I fade, I canna come back for you. And once I’m gone, you will die against these newlings. Then we’ll both be lost.” For all of his life, he’d depended on logic. Why abandon it now?

            “What are you talking about?”

            “Damn it, none of this matters!”

            “You coldhearted bastard, it matters to me! You have the power to save my people and all those innocent villagers. Don’t leave them like this. Don’t make me hate you.”

            His fists clenched. “I’ve never deserved your hatred.” He knew the past couldn’t be changed—but his mate could. If he ran with her, she would hear her people’s screams as the newlings massacred them. She would replay those screams forever, just as he replayed her last words when she’d died in his arms in Quondam: I hate you . . . I hate you . . .

            He would easily risk his life to prevent that, but could he risk hers?

            She placed her free hand on his chest, her palm a brand in the cool rain. “Fight the newlings. For me. For our future.”

            Our future. Her words wormed their way into his brain, his rationality fleeing.

            “Munro, if you save them, I’ll become what you want.”

            He gazed down into her eyes. “And what is that?”

            “Your . . . immortal mate.”





            The wolf’s expression somehow looked both crazed and cunning. “You’re offering yourself to me forever?”

            Belong to the night? To the Lore?

            To him.

            Ren shivered, her mind racing for any alternative. Who will take care of Vanda if I go with him? Of course, if Ren didn’t go, Vanda and everyone else would die. Who will lead the circus? The circus was about to perish.

            “Yes.” She swallowed. “That’s what I’m offering.”

            He swiped a palm over his face. Glanced at the woods and back to her. “Make me a vow that even a carnie like you must keep, no matter what occurs in the future.”

            Ren’s gaze flicked to Jacob. He and Björn and all the others had heard this exchange, were awaiting her next move.

            She would make any sacrifice to keep her loved ones alive—even surrendering her humanity. She told Munro, “If you defeat these foes, I vow on the souls of my ancestors that I will be your mate forever.”

            “Good lass.” Munro stepped closer and cupped the back of her head. “For you, Kereny, I’ll kill them all.” The wild lightning bolts reflected in his golden eyes as he leaned down. “Now, give me a taste of what I’ll be fighting for. . . .”