“He’s gone.”“Gone?” I say the word loudly enough that it echoes.“He’s been moved. Sorry, Miss.” The guard shifts uncomfortably. “And, can you keep it down,” he asks in a quiet tone.“I - I don’t understand.”He leans toward me and says, quieter still. “Maximum security.”My head is spinning.That doesn’t make any sense. “But that’s for, like, hardened criminals. Violent - “ My voice rises again, and the guard shushes me, putting a finger up to his lips.“My father doesn’t belong there,” I say.He shrugs. “I don’t know. That was the orders. That’s all I can tell you.”“B
Ansel’s face and voice are everywhere. His message gets broadcast, replayed and rehashed.He’s standing outside, in one of the gardens on his estate. A breeze blows gently at his blond hair. He looks tired, but his voice is strong. When he speaks, it’s not hard to appreciate why so many have come to care for him.“Recently, many accusations have been made about me and reported in the media as truth. My team is working to investigate the source of the misinformation. I take this very seriously, because it is not only about me. It stands to undermine the democratic process the werewolf world is building. Your vote is freely yours, and no undue influence should interfere with your choice to elect our next leader.”It’s a brief message, but more is promised. A sit-down interview has been planned with Beta Jack Myers, of all people, to discuss everything
They spread over the manor like a web. Some of the agents are outside, too, searching the rest of the property and talking to the gammas stationed at the perimeters for security.They collect statements from everyone. My interview seems to last forever. I struggle to collect the finer details of my memories while they question me. The more they poke and prod, the worse it gets. Hopefully, I haven’t made matters worse for Ansel.When they’re finished with me, I go and wait outside of Ansel’s office.Eventually, he and two agents walk out.Ansel’s eyes are closed and he’s rubbing his head like he’s in pain. “This has sent me into migraine territory,” he says, as the agents make their way back down the hall.“Ansel,” I say. “I just want you to know that I told them you didn’t have anything to do with Ethan’s accident, and that I wasn’t trapped here, or anything like that.”Ansel glares at me. “The things you left me for, I think. Nice to know you see it differently now.”“Some things,” I
“Rhett-fucking-Butler,” Joy says.We’re on the couch, my head in her lap, as she strokes my hair. We’re eating a plate of lemon cookies she baked.She stuffs one into her mouth. “He’s an alpha,” she says, with her mouth full of cookie. “And you’re fated mates. He should have ripped off your clothes, made love to you on the stairwell, and made you beg him for forgiveness, if you get my drift!”I fan myself and she giggles.She sets down the cookie she’s just reached for. “He’s the real-deal alpha. He is Rhett Butler.” She tilts back her head and sighs loudly.“Well, he didn’t say he doesn’t ‘give a damn.’”“He didn’t have to,” Joy says. “Wow. I have a major crush now.”“After you encouraged me to break it off.” I raise my eyebrow.“I didn’t want you to give in and go back to a toxic relationship!”Was it toxic?It was uneven, maybe - unequal.“Now, what do you think?” I steal the cookie Joy’s just picked back up.“I think… I think, whatever it was before, you left things better.”“We b
“Look, I think she’s waking up.”“Shhh!”My brain slowly comes back online, with a few false starts as I go in and out of darkness.My eyes are closed. I smell grass and mud. The side of my face feels damp. It’s pressed up against something hard. I hear the sound of water and a bird chirping.I open my eyes. The world is still spinning. I try to sit up, but I can’t. My hands and feet are tied.“Just stay there,” a voice says.Maybe my emotions are muted, but the sound of that voice still puts a knot in my stomach.Cherry. She’s going to kill me. I inhale sharply. It’s one thing to die. It’s another to know that this bitch won. I struggle against Duct tape I’m tied up with.“Cut that out,” a male voice says.“Let me up,” I say. “I want to see you both.”“Let’s just sit her up,” the man says, obviously to Cherry. “If you promise to sit there and don’t move.”“Fine,” says Cherry.He lifts me up so that I’m in a sitting position. I can see where we are now - in an enclosed, wooded area n
“What - what do you mean?”What the hell kind of sinister plan does she have up her sleeve? “Moon Shadow is waffling in its support of Ansel. My father’s been furious with him since he broke off our engagement. You have -“ Cherry breaks off. She’s fighting back angry tears. “You have no idea how humiliating that was. Especially to be dumped for a whore.”Cherry’s lucky I’m not at normal emotional capacity. I’d probably spit back at her - right in her face.As it is, it turns out my rational brain is better at sarcasm and comebacks.“Wah-wah,” I say in my best baby voice. I roll my eyes.Cherry growls and nearly slashes my face with her claws, but Blake is lighting fast, and grabs her.I laugh.“Cool your jets, Cherry. She’s doing it on purpose.”She looks back at me. I smile and shrug.“Here’s the deal, slut,” she says. “No one is standing by Ansel. Not King David or Prince Edwin, not Moonshadow, and sure as hell not Full Moon. We can go down the list of the Alliance. You won’t find
Ansel woke up in a cold sweat.There’s been a breach.Henry’s stark warning came through mindlink.Ansel jumped up. He grabbed a t-shirt he’d thrown over the back of a chair and pulled it on over his head.Don’t come. It will make things worse. I’ll keep you updated.He ignored Henry and was outside within seconds. Jeff was howling and pacing from inside him. He could see lights up ahead and hear shouts and cries.He shifted into his wolf and raced toward the gate, where he could soon make out the skirmish between the protestors and his security.Before he could reach the turmoil, he was flanked by Henry, who then turned to block him. Ansel growled and swiped him across the snout. Henry yelped.Ansel pushed on. It was chaos up ahead. He stumbled when a huge weight crashed on top of him. Teeth sunk into his shoulders. Henry.He tried to buck him off, but he was clamped onto Ansel with his fangs. Ansel swung around, throwing both him and Henry down on the ground, with Ansel colliding on
“You’re going to blow them away.”Zara beamed at Ansel.“Seriously,” she said. “Goosebumps.”Ansel shrugged. His brain felt cobwebby from the lack of sleep. “I used to have a knack for it,” he said. “Just keep the coffee coming.”“Well, you got your mojo back.” Zara’s silvery eyelids sparkled whenever she fluttered her lashes. “After you get on camera today - if we don’t see your poll numbers jump through the roof, I’ll eat my hat!”“Do you even own a hat?” Ansel smiled before leaning back in his chair.“Totally. A beret.”“Ooh la la.”Zara’s laughter sounded like the jingle of bells.Ansel’s stomach lurched. A moment from his dream last night
#Ansel’s Epilogue: A New Tomorrow Ansel and Karin waited together on the wings of the stage, listening to the cheers and booming voice over the microphone. Edwin had been removed from the election ballot. The next in-line for the throne, a cousin, replaced him. Ansel won in a landslide. Ansel looked at Karin. She was leaning against her crutches. Her raven hair fell down over her shoulders. Her brown eyes were warm and flecked with gold. “Did I ever tell you,” he said, “How proud I am of you?” A blush came over her cheeks. She raised her eyebrow. “What for?” “You llean into your confidence more and more everyday,” he said. “I always knew you were feisty as shit, but until the day of the attack, when I really saw you in action, I didn’t fully recognize just how courageous and strong you are.” Karin looked down at her feet, hiding a smile. “I was always scared of Ada’s power,” she said. She looked back up at Ansel. “I held her back constantly, but I think I’ve finally learned to
“Do not leave,” Ansel whispers. “Got it?” His voice is a command. I shake my head. Ansel opens his mouth to argue when we hear a cry. The hair stands up on the back of my neck and my stomach lurches. It’s Charles. Without another second, he is out of the room. Ada’s pacing, urging me to go. She pushes against me with such a force, I can’t ignore it. Quietly as I can, I slip out the door and begin to slink down the stairs. As I do, I pick up on the scents of multiple Weres. The alarm bells are ringing, but Ada keeps edging me closer. I hear Ansel’s voice as I continue creeping down the stairway. “Go on,” he shouts. “Give me the ‘bad guy’ exposition, Edwin.” As I tiptoe around the corner, I see Charles, lying still on the ground. Where I would have panicked, Ada is an intense calm. Ansel’s eyes dart over, likely picking up my scent. We make eye contact before he whips his eyes back, so as not to give me away. Then, he mindlinks with me. “Go upstairs.” I don’t argue back. Ho
Ansel Ansel’s eyes flew open and chaos ensued. Filled with adrenaline, he sprang up in the bed, grabbing a masked stranger by the neck. “Lorazepam!” Ansel could not place where he was or what was happening. The lights were blinding and painful. Blue gloves, blue masks, and eyes of strangers encroached him, swirled over him and around him. He felt overwhelmed and attacked. Hands pried Ansel’s hand from the neck. A dozen arms held Ansel back from flinging himself off the bed or doing further damage. Ansel felt something cold in his arm and it spread through his body. A voice chuckled. “I think the atro-corticoid worked a little too well.” Ansel’s fight instinct abated. His body relaxed. The glaring light dissipated and his eyes adjusted. He registered for the first time where he was. A hospital room, with whirs and beeps, white tile floor, the sound of footsteps outside in the hall, and the smell of sickness, chemical cleaners, and grief in the air. Ansel was surrounded by a conce
KarinThe dream flickers away, like a candle blown out. For a moment, I’m filled with terror, afraid that I’ve lost Ansel, but I feel his presence even if I can’t see or hear him. Still, the control and the energy I’m trying to hold on to is quickly fading. It’s twilight. I’m standing outside the sanitorium. I fight it, but I feel myself slipping into a nightmare redux.“My son tells me good things about you.” Sir David looks nothing like Ansel. His hair is gray, his body is imposingly muscular, and his face is weathered and scarred from fights, but it’s the menacing look in his eyes and the hardened expression on his face that’s the real difference.For once, Ada and are in complete agreement on something - we don’t like him. Sir David’s eyeing me. I pull my hair around, making sure to hide Ansel’s bite mark on my neck. I nod my head. “He’s very serious about you,” he says. “Did you know?”I hesitate. A swallow chirps nearby. There’s no one in sight and he scares me. Ada jumps i
Karin“Tick tick tick…” The jet of a sprinkler shoots water across the green lawn, painting a rainbow in the shimmer of water droplets against the morning sun. Henry wakes up to the sound of his wife crying against the closed bathroom door. “Mags?” Silence. Apathy. Untouched plates of food.Henry sits on the porch, wearing a faded Hawaiian shirt with a surfboard print. Maggie’s in a chair across from him, almost unrecognizable with greasy, unwashed hair and wrinkled clothes. He’s made her iced tea. “With a dash of mint,” he says, his tone gentle. Maggie stares ahead. There’s a dead look to her eyes.Leaves crunching. Greased palm. Black car. Maggie’s hollow eyes torment him. He misses when her eyes were alive, when they sparkled with joy, and even when they sizzled in anger at whatever dumb things he did. It’s her eyes that flicker in his mind when he’s approached. ‘I can be a rat,’ he thinks. He says “yes,” without asking the obvious: “Why me?” Later, he will ask himself
The sea is outside. We’re in the bedroom of a small cottage. The door’s open and I can see his mom’s old piano is tucked into the corner of the living room. My ballet shoes sit near the bench.He looks beautiful in the dim light.Everything about Ansel is strong - from the tenor of his voice, his height and broad shoulders, to the muscular lines of his body and the chiseled features of his face.It’s all there - the power of him, the hard lines I resented because he had changed, but his defenses are stripped away, revealing the totality of him and the gentle warmth inside.We’re shoulder-to-shoulder. He tilts his head over to me and smiles, and I like the way his eyes crinkle when he does. I let my head fall against his shoulder. He hums in my ear and loops his index finger around mine.“Is that a new song?”“Just a bit of a melody that popped in,” he says, shr
I stay frozen in my spot. The dream version of Ansel sweeps back a flyaway strand of hair from Zara’s face. My stomach knots itself into a pretzel when she leans in to kiss him. His arms are around her. Her hand is in his hair.My Ansel is as awkward as I’ve ever seen him. He’s looking down, and seems to be holding his breath.Dream Ansel puts on the brakes, pulling back.“What’s wrong,” Zara asks. “Did I… do something?”“No.” He looks frustrated and runs his hands through his hair. “Not at all.” He clears his throat. “I think we need to stay focused,” he says, standing, “On the task at hand.”“That was the extent of it, mostly,” Ansel says next to me, wearing a guilty expression. “This was as close as it got to a rebound.”“I don’t have room to talk,” I say, thinking ashamedly about kissing Ethan. “And, we were broken up.”I blush. “We are broken
“Really?” My heart kicks up a notch. “Why… Why do you want to take me on a date?”“Because you wanted me to,” he says. “Remember?”There’s a lump in my throat as we walk down the sidewalk together.We stop at a cafe. He holds the door for me. I pause just inside, marveling, wide-eyed at the very 1970’s Americana-style diner.I’m in a fringed, suede miniskirt and blouse. Ansel seems to appreciate the skirt. He raises his eyebrows and smiles.He’s wearing an orange, short-sleeve shirt and mustard-colored pants with flared legs.“Think I can pull this off?” He looks down at his clothes.I think he could pull off a flour-sack, but I’m not going to tell him that.We sit down at a table. The booth is vinyl green and the table is
“Final boarding call for Pioneer-Blue, flight 105.”Shit.The gate check-in counter is in sight. I dash to it like I’m in an Olympic relay, ticket in hand. With the other hand, I clutch the duffel bag slung over my shoulder to keep it from clobbering me as I run.I weave my way around other passengers, milling about during their layovers or filing to their own gates, and I race past emergency workers trying to revive Ethan. He’s lying on the floor of the airport, muddied and limp.Ahead, and just to my left, a little boy is watching. He looks small and scared. There are grass stains on his jeans. A bike is laying on the ground next to him.“Last call for flight 105.”“I’m here,” I say, shoving the ticket in front of the worker.She radios to the flight crew and sends me down the jetway