Saltbound and Bloodsworn (by Allison Franklin) novel Chapter 9

Saltbound and Bloodsworn

Chapter 9 Chapter Nine

Isla waited with her knees drawn to her chest for the Prince to return to his tent. She had never felt so empty before that day, never more alone. Her mother… Gone. Isla had come to this very tent to save her, yet she’d failed. Not only in keeping her mother alive, but in turn she’d stripped her father of his only child. She placed her cheek on her knee. Was her father even alive? Had the breaking of his fated bond killed him as it had Alpha Lucifer of Boregard? What would happen to her now? She lifted her left hand and looked down at the pale pink scar that had bound her to the Prince. Why was he doing this? Why her? Was this her punishment for her recklessness? Was this her Hell?

Isla still felt queasy from the ‘exam’ the witch had performed on her. Stricken as she was with her sudden grief, she’d surrendered easily to the seemingly kind witch, though Isla suspected she’d used some form of magic to calm her into compliance. The witch, Defta? Donna? Delilah?, hadn’t touched her body, but Isla could feel her touching her energy, her soul, the core of her being. She remembered a stifled gasp, how her eyes had flown open and she’d stared

down at Isla in astonishment.

“No wonder he isn’t letting you go,” the witch had said.

Isla asked what she meant but the witch refused to answer. Instead, she’d merely violently shaken her head before running from the tent. That’s when Isla

curled up in the corner, waiting for her judgement. She’d ignored the plates of food that were brought in. She’d turned away as they filled the copper tub

with steaming hot water. Isla only gave a passing glance to the three dresses the witch brought in from her own collection to change into. She merely sat

there, trying and failing for the millionth time in her life to feel a connection that would allow her to mindlink her people.

Someone entered the tent. At first, she didn’t know or care who it was. But as the individual moved around the tent, his scent drifted toward her and her

skin warmed in a way that fogged her brain.

“You didn’t eat,” the Mate Killer noted.

She hugged her knees tighter.

“Or use the tub,” he added.

“If you want to rape me, you’ll have to do it while I stink,” she grumbled softly.

The Mate Killer sighed. “I don’t rape women.”

“Only murder them to end a war in the most cowardly way possible.”

She felt his anger before his presence as he squatted down in front of her.

*143,459. That’s how many of my men died fighting my father’s war. And that’s the tally from before the siege of Mariseth,” he stated, his voice cold and crisp with fury. “350,000. That’s our rough estimate for the men killed on your king’s side of the war he provoked. I’m sure the true number is far steeper. 50. That’s the number of negotiations I entered with your king to bring about a peaceful conclusion to this war. 50 is the same number of times he rejected those negotiations.” Isla buried her head deeper into her knees, wanting to block out his voice. “One month. That’s the deadline I gave him before enacting the single most vile act a man can commit. An act that has scarred my soul, that haunts every second of my sleep…” There was a pause and Isla looked up to see his eyes filled with something like longing in his silver gaze. “That prevents me from ever claiming a mate of my own.” He blinked and the mask fell.

The Mate Killer returned in the sharp line of his mouth and firm tick of his jaw. “I don’t ask any of my men to do it. I carry the burden on my own. A sing act of sacrifice to break down the arrogance of a prideful Alpha who sees his people as disposable pawns for his agenda. A single sacrifice to save thousands. Your queen understood that. She accepted her death with grace and unflinching courage. She should have ruled. Maybe then this war would have never come to pass. Think of me what you will. But tonight there is peace across two lands that have not known a quiet night sky in half a decade. I tarnish my own soul for the lives of my country. Your sharp tongue doesn’t cut quite as deep as the idea of losing one more soul in a war over land and resources.”

He shoved up from his knees and strode toward the tub. He shucked off his robe and she turned away.

1/3

Chapter 9 Chapter Nine

What are you doing now?” she asked.

“It took three men to haul this water in here. I’m going to see it doesn’t go to waste,” he told her. She could hear the splashing of water as he angrily

climbed into the tub.

Isla huffed and stood up. He was in the tub with his head laid back on the rim and his arms hanging out either side. His eyes were closed but his jaw was tight and his brows drawn together in annoyance.

“What do you want with me, huh? I’m nobody. I’m just a maid, so you think you can use me as some kind of collateral against Alpha Slade…”

His silver eyes opened and cut her to the bone. “You are no maid,” he growled.

“I am!” she yelled.

He snorted. “A maid with such devotion to her queen that she would sacrifice her own life by walizing into an enemy encampment?”

“Yes! As you said, our queen was brave and strong. Any of us would have…”

“But they didn’t. You did. Why?”

She stomped her foot. “I heard her, okay? I heard her from the maid closet discussing how she would turn herself over to you,” she confessed. His eyes narrowed but he didn’t imply she was lying. “Everyone has assumed I’m weak for my entire life. They pity me: the poor wolfless girl who is only good at

hiding, who will never measure up to the rest of them,” she said, wondering why on Earth she was telling him her deepest insecurities. “I only have one use and that is magic doesn’t…” She stopped herself. She shut her eyes and breathed deep. “I could get through the ward. That’s why I came.” She opened her

eyes again to find him scrutinizing her closely. “I am no one. Please, you must let me go. Let me return to my mother and father.”

Isla choked on the heavy emotion and truth that she would most likely be returning to corpses. That she would never hug her mother and father again. Yes, once she took the throne and ascended to queen, the Mate Killer would realize his mistake and maybe come looking for her but it was a risk she had to take.

She couldn’t tell him her true identity. He would only use it to further subjugate her people. But, if she were to convince him to release her… She might be

able to save her people, to rebel, to keep Eredhal from consuming her lands./

“I am no one,” she repeated. “I am only a maid.”

The Mate Killer sighed and looked down at the water. He shook his head at his own reflection. The muscles in his arms bunched as he pulled himself out of

the water. Isla turned away, her cheeks flaming at the constant nudity he was subjecting her to. He had been correct earlier, as Princess of Tridea, she was

never a part of the more common practices of werewolf culture. While most wolves, men and women, were around each other while being nude due to the

constant shifting from one form or the other, she had been sheltered from it to honor her innocence. She felt his fingers touch her chin and lift her gaze toward his. She fought to ignore the shock of sensations that flowed through her body at his touch and the way the innocent gesture made her mouth part in anticipation of what he would do next.

“Even if your blood didn’t flow through my veins from our binding,” he began, his voice low and throaty as if his touch ignited something in him too. He licked his lip and her gaze tracked the movement. “Even if I weren’t of alpha blood with a powerful wolf…” His face lowered until he was only a hairsbreadth away from kissing her. “I would still be able to hear your heart from across the room and know your words are dripping with lies.”

Isla gasped and yanked away from his touch. “I’m not lying!” she yelled in desperation.

The Mate Killer sighed and shook his head again. “It doesn’t matter, nonetheless.”

He turned away, the towel around his waist hanging precariously low.

“What doesn’t matter?” she asked, following after him. “Just let me go.”

2/3

0:46 am

Chapter 9 Chapter Nine

Leap’, he said, digging through a bag of clothes.

“You can’t or you won’t?”

“Either. It’s all semantics.”

“Why?!”

“Because I’ve made my decision.”

“What decision?”

“That you’re mine,” he said, his back still turned.

“Wha-, I… I am not yours!”

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify