Varek POV
“Tavian?” I called out, already moving. We met in a blur of urgency, and I barely registered the others my eyes locked on the woman in his arms.
Kavira.
She was unconscious, limp against Tavian’s chest. Her face was swollen, her shoulder obviously dislocated, and her wrist bent at an angle no wrist should ever be. Broken without a doubt. Tavian adjusted her slightly to show me her back, and what I saw made my stomach twist.
Blood had soaked through her shirt. Some of the wounds had reopened, fresh trails seeping through the fabric. Angry, raw whip marks marred her skin her back, even down to her leg. But it was when he gently shifted her shirt at the collar that I saw it.
Teeth marks.
Right on her neck.
Like the bastard had tried to mark her. To claim her.
A surge of whit
