Falling in Love with the King of Beasts

Chapter 451: The Portal - Part 2

GAHRYE

Gahrye trotted down the stairs, through the wide halls and lobby of the Big House, and then into the darker, narrower hallways that led to the back door. He had almost reached it when Shaw popped out of one the nearby rooms and called his name.

He jolted to a halt, closing his eyes and praying for peace before he turned to face the man. "What is it?" he asked, more sharply than he should.

Shaw's brows popped up. "I'm sorry, sorry to interrupt again, but I just wanted to… where are you going?" the man asked, all the wheedling suddenly gone from his tone.

"I'm just going for a walk. Elia is still in beast form so we can't leave and I just… I need to be outside," Gahrye said.

Shaw stared at him a moment longer than was needed, but before Gahrye could ask, he suddenly tore his eyes away and flapped his hand. "Oh, nevermind then. You go have your break. I'll speak with you later. You'll be here, I assume?"

"Yes," he said through his teeth. "Elia—"

"Right, right. Okay. I'll speak with you later. Enjoy your walk!"

Gahrye turned on his heel, feeling disturbed, but grateful the man hadn't held him up longer. He needed to get into the traverse before he lost his nerve and ran back to his mate with his tail tucked into his ass crack.

*****

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It had been so long since he'd been in the gardens, Gahrye had to scent his way down the lines of perfectly symmetrical flowerbeds and shrubs to the area at the end of the lawn where the portal lay.

To the normal eye it appeared to be a pile of boulders and dirt camouflaged somewhat by nearby shrubs and trees. But he could smell the different air—pungent, rotting—wafting from it. That smell brought back the memories of his last crossing. They hit him like a punch to the gut. But he didn't have time to think about what he'd been through, or what it meant. He had to see if this was real. He had to see if he could bring Elia across safely. The mindframe she was in now, even if she could hold human form long enough he never would have let the voices at her. She would snap. He was sure of it.

He had to see if it was true that his blood protected anyone who walked the traverse.

Checking over his shoulder to ensure that Shaw hadn't followed, though he was comfortable that he would have heard the man if he did, Gahrye rolled back the sleeve on his right arm until his entire forearm was bare, then he slipped the smaller of the two knives from its sheath. With a silent prayer to the Creator that he wasn't crazy, that he and Kalle had seen the truth about what he was capable of, he drew the sharpened blade along his wrist, careful to miss the thick vein there.

Blood welled and began to slowly drip down his arm. Shaking slightly from the pain, Gahrye wiped the knife on the back of his forearm, sheathed it, then stepped toward that impossible space between the boulders that seemed all at once, entirely solid, and light as air.

When his blood hit the surface of the portal, light appeared, swirling and sucking towards his arm—and a new sensation… a welcome.

The portal wanted him to come inside.

Shaking his head, Gahrye braced himself then stepped through that cool wash of… whatever this place was, into the dark, dank cavern of the traverse.

Dust, dead air, barely visible light from an unidentifiable source… none of it had changed. As he stood just inside the portal, the only thing he could hear was his own breathing and the pit-pit-patter of his blood hitting the dusty stone under his feet.

Then he took a step, and the voices rushed in, swirling, crying, screaming around him. He could feel their anger, feel their pain—the scent of his blood hurt them!—but they did not touch him. There was no presence at his ear, sliding along his back. No laughter. No whispered temptations.

Only threats.

Thrown from a distance, screamed in hate and rage.

But nothing barred his movement. Nothing held him in place. Gone was the sensation of being stuck in a swamp to his neck, each step heavier than the last.

Gahrye moved lightly, quickly, keeping his eyes on the path, doing his best to ignore the ear-piercing screams that promised death—death to Gahrye, death to his mate, death to his Queen…

Step by hurried step, he crossed the traverse, his heart lighter and more hopeful with each passing minute.

They were right. They had found the answer.

Gahrye wasn't disformed.

He was a Protector.

He could get Elia home.

His heart pounded with excitement and fear. Desperate not to hear what the voices swore they would do to Kalle, he began to jog, then run, then sprint for the light that was now visible at the other end of this strange path—a light that glowed and welcomed him again. Definitely stronger than last time, it cast warm, white light to the stones and dirt beneath it, beckoning him home.

Gahrye's heart leaped—he was going home!—and he pushed himself to the edge of his strength and speed as the voices howled, gnashing teeth, their claws swiping at nothing but air.

They could not touch him. And they hated that he knew that.

They hated him.

They would kill him if they could. No longer would they toy with this male. No longer try to tempt him to take them into his world. No… if they touched this one it was to be certain he had breathed his last.