Hushed Willows [m] Mental Wounds

She didn't even see it coming. His teeth scored across her forehead. Heat bloomed over her skull. For a moment there was no pain; only warmth, and blood pouring down her brow and into her eyes and blinding her. Mae snarled and shook her head viciously, never releasing her grip. Someone else struck him just then, though she couldn't see them. She was relieved for that. But she felt dizzy. She felt —

Enough.

Mae would have killed him. Boone should have killed him. A low growl simmered in her throat. She shook her head one last time and dropped the trespasser's mangled foot, kicking it as she stepped away. Fuck that guy. Fuck that guy. Mae shook the blood from her eyes. She paced around the pinned stranger as Boone held him there and spoke of his crimes, hatred dripping from every glance she shot his way. We should kill him.

But he would die anyway, wouldn't he? Mae suddenly understood Boone's decision, the cruelty in it. It wasn't what she'd expected from the normally-tolerant Harbinger. She glanced at Kyrell, finally realizing it was him who had joined them.

Her agitation settled into something like respect.