Rough, Sara Fields [the top 100 crime novels of all time txt] 📗

The Acolyte put all his weight on the handle, pushing the dagger all the way in before he flew up and rushed to the other side of the room.

I didn’t see him slip out the room. I had eyes only for my alpha.

The door slammed and I knew he was gone.

It didn’t matter.

Crushing fear rattled me.

Magnar wasn’t moving.

Distraught, I reached him and dropped to my knees, not caring that they would probably bruise because tomorrow no longer mattered.

I could feel his pain. I could feel every last agonizing breath.

With extreme trepidation, I pressed my fingers against his chest, hoping against hope that his heart was still beating. The wet warmth of his blood was the most terrifying thing I’d ever felt, but I needed to know.

There it was. The pulse was weak, but it was there.

I cried out, panicked and I only vaguely recognized that my own cheeks were wet with tears.

It didn’t matter.

Only he did.

My terror intensified as he groaned with pain.

I pressed my forehead to his shoulder and sobbed harder. His breath was starting to slow down and become more irregular with every passing second.

“Ariana,” he breathed and the rattle in his voice sent me into a cold panic.

“My omega,” he murmured.

“Shhh, don’t speak,” I cried out, my eyes bleary through my tears.

“That’s not all you are,” he groaned.

“Please, don’t,” I sobbed even harder.

“You’re my sigma, Ariana. I need you,” he whispered.

I froze.

“You know what you need to do, sigma. Do it,” he commanded and everything in me rose to answer.

I grasped the handle of the knife and pulled hard. It came out with a sickening wet sound, but I did my best to ignore it. Without thinking, I cut into my wrist and held it over him, allowing my blood to drip down into his open wound.

I expected it to hurt, but I felt nothing. The only thing I wanted was to save my alpha. He needed me and I was going to give him everything.

The Cult had discovered that I was not just an omega. I was a sigma and that came with a certain set of abilities that I hadn’t known I possessed. My blood could heal a wound. It could make someone live longer or even make them stronger.

I had to save Magnar. It was the only thing that mattered now.

I sobbed as my terror consumed me. At first, I thought the Cult had just made up the fact that I was a sigma. Maybe they’d just mixed up the samples and I wasn’t what they thought I was. Maybe I was broken. Maybe this wouldn’t work and all the things about sigmas were just myths that perpetuated throughout history.

Maybe they’d been wrong.

His breathing was ragged.

His blood was pooling beneath him.

My fear raged on. Sobs racked me from within and the painful tearing of the bond as he slipped away from me was too much to handle.

I wailed. I squeezed my fingers tighter. I gave him more blood.

A brilliant white light began to glow and for a long moment, I thought I was going to die along with him. Had the Acolyte returned? Had he killed me too?

Magnar coughed.

The bond billowed outward with warmth.

His breathing deepened, each one wet and ragged and terrible. The light brightened and I pressed my head against his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat weakening.

My sorrow was too much.

The weight of the world crashed down on my shoulders and I bowed under its terrible force. My grief made me cower, it was so painful.

Maybe I would die from the severing of the bond. Maybe that’s how it was all going to end.

His heart slowed until…

Until it stopped.

The seconds wore on, each one a horrifying eternity that crushed me from within. I felt my love wither into excruciating agony.

I hadn’t been enough.

I sobbed so hard it was hard to breathe. My tears blinded me, and a screaming sound surrounded me.

It hardly registered that the wailing was coming from my own mouth.

I collapsed against him, not caring that his blood was stark against the paleness of my skin.

It was over.

He stopped breathing with a soul-crushing wheeze.

This couldn’t be happening.

I couldn’t take it. I’d just found him and now I’d lost him. Together, we had failed, and the Cult had won. Maybe we’d been destined to fail from the start?

It hurt so much.

My mind stopped, unable to string together any words aside from cries of pain.

This was loss.

I could only drown in it.

It was all I could feel.

I sobbed.

My alpha was gone and all I knew was screeching pain. I screamed through my agony and then the impossible happened.

His heart started to beat once more.

One.

Then two.

And then for a third time.

I swallowed air. My own heart pounded at a frantic pace.

His chest rose. He sucked in a breath and I froze. I pushed against his chest, needing to see. His hard eyes met mine, full of warmth and love and everything I’d ever wanted. With one breath after another, the paleness in his face receded. His heartbeat strengthened with each passing second, as did my hope.

I blinked through my tears and pushed back, tearing my gaze to the open wound that the Cultist had inflicted.

Only…

It wasn’t there anymore.

In its place was a single narrow scar, pale white against the tanned skin of his chest. Almost in disbelief, I reached out to touch it, not believing it was real and praying that it was. His clothing was still soaked with his blood, but he was whole.

My alpha was whole.

My alpha was alive.

My sobs turned from grief to stark relief. His arms curled around me and with a soft whimper I crawled closer to him. His chest pressed against mine. He held me and I clutched at him, terrified that if I let him go, he would disappear as if he was a figment of my imagination.

I could have laid there with him for hours and maybe I did. The blue sky turned dark outside, and I didn’t care. He was