Free Heart of a Rocky by Kelsey Jordan Page A

the crowd. Omar narrowed his eyes on the crowd, then Derrick before turning to Ulryk.
    Using Omar’s distracted gaze to his advantage, Derrick attacked, but Omar simply punched him in the face and wrapped his hands around his muzzle, forcing him to submit while he spoke to the god.
    “Ulryk, I must end this. It’s insulting to continue.”
    Ulryk grinned at the way Omar held Derrick like an irritated parent. “Granted.”
    Omar tossed Derrick aside and took the God of Kings and Queens’ extended blade. He spun to the side, narrowly avoiding a swipe of claws. He swung the god blade at Derrick’s passing form, opening a large wound in Derrick’s torso. Derrick stood on his hind legs, exposing his chest in time for Omar to bury the blade deep into his chest.
    “Today I take from you the wealth that is Ulryk’s blessing. May my leadership be just and guided by the Noble Cannons. The hold of Gardas calls to you. Find peace, Tor. Blessed be in Gardas’ eternal hold.”
    Omar guided Derrick’s body to the ground with more dignity than he deserved.
    Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who felt such because, when Ulryk stepped forward, he kicked Derrick’s body from the raised dais which Omar had stretched him out on.
    * * *
    Omar stepped back and watched the body of the fallen Tor roll to a stop in front of the very Alakes he’d been trying to summon to his aid.
    “I am disgraced,” Ulryk began. “He has managed to bring shame on my name. No king should fight with dishonor when given the chance to be righteous. I should hold his soul as punishment.” Ulryk scrunched his features in disgust and cursed. “Why would I wish that on myself?” He waved away his thoughts. “Tor Omar, you fought—if it could be called that—with grace befitting a leader. You have shown honor in the face of one who sought to deny you the same. Today I honor you with the full wealth of my blessing. May your rule be absolute, your reign be long, and your life lived according to the Cannons.”
    Pain seared his core and radiated outward, seeming to coat each neuron in misery and knowledge. The feeling wasn’t unfamiliar, but it still hurt like hell. He remained on his feet despite his knees buckling. A Lycan who couldn’t withstand the pain of becoming a leader didn’t deserve to command the respect of those under him.
    When the worst of the pain subsided, Ulryk placed his palm over his heart and amped things back up.
    “As you embark on leading the US pride, you have relinquished control of the African pride to Khalil, who has served as Tor in your absence.”
    Omar nodded and let the power of the North African pride scour its way across his already raw nerves. Ulryk steadied him, keeping him upright when the vacating power became too much.
    “Your might has not diminished in my eyes, Tor. It’s a lot to ask of a mortal to endure two transfers of power. Go now, Tor, and honor the dead with a Passing he does not deserve…” Ulryk’s words dropped off as he began mumbling under his breath. “Lelah will arrive momentarily.” With that, the God of Kings and Queens left.
    Ronan stepped forward and handed Omar a bottle of water. “I will prepare the space. Should I have the female brought up here to say her goodbyes to her Tor?”
    Omar frowned before understanding dawned on him. “Yeah. Liam can bring her?” He turned to Anise and waved her forward. “Do you know if he has a Cloth of Mourning?”
    “If he has one, I’ve never seen or heard of it. Ask Eryka; she might know.”
    He nodded and smiled down into the inquisitive stare of the softly cooing baby. He turned his head at a shrill scream just as Ronan was carrying Derrick’s body to the platform.
    Liam lost his hold on the female, and she ran to the platform. Her hands were still bound, so she held Derrick’s limp arm against her chest with both hands.
    “Let me take off the cuffs, Eryka,” Liam said, keeping his voice calm.
    Too bad the female didn’t respond in