Page 59 of Bad Bunny
The monster does not press the advantage. It pulls back. Resets. Circles again.
Testing Sorren.
The next strike comes higher. A feint toward Sorren’s shoulder that turns midway into a slash for his throat.
Sorren moves beneath it, dirt kicking up around his boots as he twists away. The blade hisses past his ear.
My cage jolts. It rattles violently as it begins to swing, like a pendulum set loose. I fall to the side. A shriek tears from my throat when my shoulder slams against the bars and the thin fabric of my sleeve disintegrates in a wisp of smoke. Ice sears through my skin. I roll onto hands and knees, my eyes never leaving Sorren.
He looks up when I scream.
The creature takes advantage.
It spins and lashes out with the blade.
I scream again, louder this time, as I watch the dagger plunge into Sorren’s side.
The cage swings the other way, and I lose sight of him as I slide across the floor in the opposite direction.
“What’s happening?” Sorren grits out below.
“Your mate and you are bound,” the Egg replies. “If you fail, she falls. She will meet your same fate seconds after you leave this life.” A pause. “Perhaps you will be reunited in the afterlife. Perhaps not. There are things even I do not know.”
The cage spins in a dizzying rush, chains screaming overhead. For one horrible second, I realize what the Egg means. If Sorren dies, I won’t just fall.
I’ll fall onto the arena floor.
I get a glimpse of Sorren, one hand clutching his wounded side as he lifts his head to me.
I meet his eyes across the distance and give a single nod. I send the message down the bond.
End it.
The bond surges suddenly, raw and violent.
Not with fear.
Resolve.
Sorren nods back as his expression shifts into something I’ve never seen before.
The careful restraint. The prince. The strategist. The part of him that waits and plans and measures consequence.
Gone.
His lip curls, baring teeth that glint sharp in the strange light. Fangs.
The pupils of his eyes elongate, as does his chin. His nose twitches. Sorren hunches down on legs that thicken. The joints bend backward. Fur sprouts across the backs of his arms. He’s caught somewhere between man and rabbit, taking the strongest parts from each and melding them together.
The creature lunges again, ice flashing toward Sorren’s throat, but my mate does not dodge.
He catches the blade.
His hand snaps shut around the frozen center of the dagger. Frost spreads across his palm and up his arm, cracking the skin open, but he does not let go. The creature tries to wrench free, and Sorren’s other hand closes around the creature’s wrist, locking it in place.
For a heartbeat, they strain there with the blade clutched between them.
Then Sorren steps in.
