Page 113 of Ravenous

He’d get Lowell to call in even more warlairds. Bracing for war yet relying on diplomacy, Thane scratched out a reply:

My gratitude. When I demonstrate trust by using them, mayhap you’ll come to trust me as well. We could build much from such a foundation.

Jastorgh traced away with the letter, then reappeared seconds later bearing her response:

I like foundations. I like to bludgeon them with a sledgehammer and cackle as they crumble into smaller and smaller pieces until there’s no hint of what once was.

Re: the spells—I’ll personally be fueling them. You will feel my presence in every bar, won’t even know which one to hump. What a savage time you’ll have. Hugs and kisses.

He exhaled through his nose and scribbled another message, thrusting it at Jastorgh.

The demon sighed. “You two could simply have a conversation, you know.”

“Just deliver this.”

Meet me that night. Unleash your demon as I unleash my beast. We’ll make the gods seethe with envy.

Moments after Jastorgh teleported away, he returned, out of breath from tracing back and forth.

Can’t. Washing my hair.

Thane wrote:

I haven’t given up on a way for us to be together.

Jastorgh vanished again, then returned, saying, “She told me this is her final message till after the full moon. Which works for me.” He tossed Thane the scroll, then traced away.

Thane opened it and read:

Yet you won’t sacrifice for it.

He sank back in his chair, fingers brushing her decisive handwriting. The reason he’d made the “easy” decision not to use the portal—and completely fuck over his pack—was partly because she wouldn’t accept him anyway.

But was she hinting otherwise now?

Could they leave behind their inherited animosities to forge something different in a new realm?

His thoughts slid, unwelcome, to Straegan. The specter of his brother’s potential rule cast a long shadow over the Skein. If he ever broke free—if he ascended—it would be apocalyptic. And not just for Lykae.

He remembered Straegan as a lad, always at Thane’s heels. Their parents had worked hard to teach each son to control his beast. Thane had easily succeeded. Straegan…had not.

Had his murderous tendencies been there all along? Or had sorcery truly captured him?

Thane couldn’t erase the memory of that night, the last time his brother’s true face had surfaced:

Straegan laughing uncontrollably, drenched in blood.

Throwing his head back and opening his arms.

Surrendering to his beast forever…

Magic had maddened him. It must have done. Yet now Thane was to rely on a witch’s spell?

He wanted to debate pros and cons with Lowell, but his right hand had been scarce, lost in his own witch trouble after a cooling-off period.

The Accession was the season for finding mates. Could it be possible that he and Meera were one pair more?

The thought made Thane pinch the bridge of his nose.