It’s surreal to be back in London. Though I’ve only been gone a few months, it seems like a totally foreign place to me, despite having been my home for five years.Of course, the area we’re in isn’t exactly where I used to hang out. I hadn’t exactly been working with 18th-century-palace money.“Is it this deserted down here all the time?” I ask as we turn down a practically empty street.Nathan looks up from his phone, which has been pinging like crazy ever since we landed. “Hmm?”“The area… seems kinda… dead.” Which is fitting because the buildings we pass look like mausoleums.“I’m not sure. I’ve never been to the royal residence. I know it’s fairly close to the human royal residence, though,” he says. “Where did you stay, while you were here?”“Not anywhere you’d be familiar with.” I leave it at that, because we pull up to the curb of a not super impressive-looking house. In fact, it’s a bit dingy, compared to the other facades on the street, but it’s nearly four times as wide as
My whole hand came off but sure, I guess I wasn’t seriously harmed. As Harriet leads us upstairs and to the king’s “apartments,” as she refers to them, the housekeeper gives us a brief rundown on the history of the place. I don’t recognize any of the names she rattles off, but if Nathan is king, then certainly they must have been related to him, somehow. And I definitely don’t know much about the various aesthetic periods of English history, so the differences between “Georgian” and “neo-classical” fly right over my head.When I can get a word in edge-wise, I ask her, “How long have you been the housekeeper here?”“I started working for His Majesty, King Archibald, in nineteen-fourteen,” she states with some pride. “No gap in employment since.”“Pardon me if I’m committing a faux pas by asking,” I begin cautiously, then remember I’m the fucking queen and I can ask anything I want. “But why are you a housekeeper, and not a thrall?”Nathan surprises me by answering for her. “The Greater
The moment the morning sky lightens, my brain stops sleeping.“Do you think my uncle did this to us?”“Jeez!” I press my hand to my chest to stop my heart from leaving my body. “What the fuck, Nathan!”“I couldn’t sleep.” He’s lying flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling, barely blinking.“I almost peed the bed!” Speaking of which…I set my feet on the floor and head for the bathroom. When I come back, Nathan hasn’t changed position at all.“Are you having some kind of crisis?” I ask, sliding back in beside him.“My uncle didn’t trust thralls,” he murmurs. “Why would he turn to them to do anything against me?”“What if he didn’t mean it like a bad thing?” I suggest, with the caveat, “If he did it at all.”Nathan sighs deeply.I scoot up close and throw my arm over his chest. He still hasn’t gotten a haircut, and a curl falls into his eyes. I would move it aside, but I’m lying on my only hand. “Maybe it was an accident.”“I don’t think people accidentally put spells on other peopl
He takes a long, hissing inhale and pushes the duvet back. I grin up at him. “You’ll have to give me a hand here.”“I’m putting a perpetual moratorium on that joke,” he scolds me, but grips himself so I can keep my balance with my hand beside his hip. I dip my head down and give him a long, slow, swirl of my tongue. When I lift my head, his hand follows me up. When I take him back in, his hand drops down. We move together that way in a lazy rhythm, him stroking himself while I tease and suck. The veins in his cock throb against my tongue and his hips strain up; I know it’s time to stop.I sit back and push his hand away before he can finish himself off. I don’t think it would take more than a few strokes.“Settle down,” I say, pulling up my nightgown as I straddle his hips. “Try not to come the second you get inside me.”“How can you be so demeaning and sexy at the same time?” he huffs. “I’ll have you know I have incredible control.”But that seems debatable, judging from the way he m
Our arrival in London hasn’t gone unnoticed. I’m barely done with my oatmeal before my day is planned out for me. The biggest chunk of my time today will be taken up by a royal audience to receive members of the pack and introduce them to their new queen.I don’t have Hannah or Tara with me. Technically, Hannah’s job isn’t to be my stylist, but she does help me pick things out. And Tara knows all the flaws I’m self-conscious about, because they were put there by our mother. She’s never going to let me go out in something that makes my hips look big or my neck look short.Instead, I have a thrall who comes and tuts and frowns and tilts her head this way and that before finally giving up, I guess, and putting me in a mauve silk gown with an empire waist and a gauzy split overlay skirt. She gives me white elbow-length gloves that I have to politely explain will look goofy as heck on someone with no hand. In the end, she works a little magic with a curling iron so my hair falls in soft wa
I take them from him. Putting the handless one on is easier than the other, since I need an assist from my mouth. I’m wearing lipstick and I don’t want to get it on the fabric.Nathan steps in to help without a word. “When you need me, ask. I’m here for you.”Will wonders never cease?“The Marquess Dubois and his wife, Lady Hargrave,” a werewolf in some kind of military dress tells Nathan and me. There’s a majordomo announcing guests properly as they arrive, but we’re stationed in the receiving room where there’s no need for anyone to shout at us. Wyrding House doesn’t have a throne room, due to a spat that goes back to the Medieval period and an arrangement with the human English monarchy meant to soothe their threatened egos.Or, so Harriet has led us to understand.The Marquess and his wife bow and curtsey to us, and I have to ask, “I’ve never met a Marquess before. Is that a pack title or one you acquired in the human world?”The moment I ask it, I sense a shift in the interaction
It’s so late it’s beginning to qualify as early when we leave Wyrding House, and we sneak out like grounded teenagers. We’re definitely not dressed with a royal vibe; I’ve got on an impossibly short, super clingy long-sleeve mini-dress in an obnoxious lime and fluorescent yellow print, and Nathan is wearing gray track pants, a plain black tee shirt, and a black denim jacket with a gray hood.“You look like an undercover cop,” I whisper, leaning on him so I don’t fall off my ridiculous Lucite heels. My ponytail is so high and tight I feel like my scalp is going to pop off, and I’m fairly certain I can feel the night air on my butt cheeks.When I slide into the leather passenger seat of the waiting car, I whoop with shock at the cold.“And you look like you belong on a sleazy reality dating show,” he quips back. “At least one of us will fit in.”Nathan pulls away from the curb and doesn’t turn the car’s lights on until we’re a few streets away from the square.“Is this dangerous?” I ask
My douche-o-meter can’t handle the overload and explodes.“Werewolves,” he says, looking us up and down. “In my club.”“Dan sent us,” Nathan says.“Yeah, of course he did. Jonah.” He sticks his hand out for Nathan to shake, then offers it to me before noticing mine is missing. He snatches the offer back quickly.Hook, I think, giving Nathan a knowing look.“So, you’re the royals.” Jonah tucks his thumbs through his belt loops. His pants are riding low enough to expose a cut of muscle plunging from his hip to beneath his waistband. “Guess that qualifies you for the VIP room.”It strikes me then that he doesn’t sound English. As we follow him toward the back of the club, I say, “You have a west coast accent. Like, the west coast of North America.”“Good ear,” he notes. “Vancouver, British Columbia.”“I’m from Ontario!” I declare excitedly, and way too loud. Some people we pass give me a withering look.“Yeah, got that from the whole Toronto thing.” He pushes a swinging black door open,
We plan furiously, and fast. Xiao secures a location, a tiny cabin that’s way off the grid in Manitoba. We’ll be isolated from the world, but most importantly, from the pack; they don’t know that our thralls have hideouts all over Canada.Even though she only has to make a few calls, we decide not to chance letting anyone know that we’re leaving. Yet again, we’re bugging out. We’re leaving our kingdom because our subjects want us dead.It’s almost midnight when Nathan and I go to my bedroom, and I start hauling out all my luggage.“You don’t have to pack tonight,” he says gently.I don’t look at him. “I don’t have to. But I’m going to.”“You’ll tire yourself out. We’ll have a long drive tomorrow.”I shake my head. “Then I can sleep on the drive.”Nathan comes to my side and puts his hand on my arm. “Bailey… don’t do this to yourself.”“Don’t do what?” I snap. “Take anything with me to fucking Manitoba? Just resign myself to dying in the wilderness, ripped apart by polar bears?”He doe
“Bailey and I won’t change. We’ll remain here, under guard, at Aconitum Hall,” Nathan declares, and my heart sinks. I’ve gotten to be in my werewolf form once. Just one time. I was looking forward to transforming again.But Nathan’s right and I can pout about it later. We will be more vulnerable in a dark forest with potential traitors.“That will keep the two of you safe, but what about the rest of the pack?” Hannah argues. “Two werewolves have failed in their attempts to kill you, the objects of the thralls’ spells. The thralls know about it. So, who’s to say that they’ll even allow us to turn? We’re interfering in something they thought they’d kept secret. They could easily poison us, trap us, do anything to us when we set foot on that ceremonial ground.”“If all of us stayed home, they’d get suspicious,” Ryan says. “Maybe they’d believe we were against them.”“Aren’t we?” I ask. “They’re working magic on us against our will, without our knowledge or consent. They’re working agains
The thralls want to exterminate werewolves? “That doesn’t make any sense. They need us—”“Needed us.” Tara stresses the past tense. “They have all the arcane knowledge they need now, except for one thing.”“Dominion over life and death.” Nathan stands and paces the length of the room.The earlier sense of proactive hope sucks from the room.“They basically forced you two to breed,” Hannah says. “Dominion over life.”“There’s more.” Tara steers us back toward her research. “After the gods fall and the earth is submerged in water, life begins again. Two humans survive Ragnarök: Lifthrasir and Lif.”“How do they survive the end of the world,” I ask, silently tacking on and who would want to?“They hide. They run away to the woods and hide until everything is over,” Tara says with a shrug. “And when they come out, they repopulate the world.”“That would be dominion over death, wouldn’t it?” Nathan suggests. “Rebuilding anew on top of that destruction?”“Are the thralls acting out Ragnarök
“In which case, why would the thralls give her the magic she would need to throw a wrench into their plans?” Nathan grimaces and curses under his breath.“I’m going to write this…” Hannah says, uncapping a new marker and turning back to the whiteboard. “…in blue… so we know… it’s unsubstantiated…”When she turns back, the “moonstone” entry has a color-coded bullet point that reads: “humans”.“Fantastic,” Ryan exclaims. “This gives us a direction to move in.”He reaches across the table and grabs a notebook and pen. “Make fun of Hannah all you want, Bailey, but look. She brought paper.”“Paper can be destroyed,” Nathan muses. “Good idea, Hannah.”She gives me a playful little smirk.I laugh and gesture at the board. “Okay. Now, let’s talk about this Tyr and Fenrir thing. I admit, I’m not the expert in mythology here, but they never boned down, that I can recall. What’s the point of symbolically making them have a baby?”“Good point.” Hannah writes, “Not literal symbolism” as a bullet po
Two days later, we have a secret meeting in the conference room at Aconitum Hall. Just Nathan, me, Hannah, and Ryan, and of course, Xiao, who stands by, guarding the door.Hannah has us all set up, with a white board and different colored markers— “to stay organized!”—as well as notebooks, pens, highlighters, all types of stuff we don’t need.“You just wanted to take a trip to the office supply store,” I accuse her.“I can neither confirm nor deny,” she answers, contentedly stroking a pack of gel pens.“While the abundance of stationary is impressive,” Nathan begins, “Let’s start with what we know so far.”He turns to the white board and writes “wwksf” in the upper left corner.All of us, even Xiao, make alarmed noises at the chaotic shape of the letters.“How about someone with better handwriting?” Ryan suggests, tacking on a hasty, “no offense, Your Majesty.”“He doesn’t get to take offense in here,” I remind Ryan. “Remember, this is informal.”“Well, who has better handwriting?” Na
The doctor tilts her head. “It’s still very early. How did you know?”“I could tell,” Nathan answers while I try to figure out how to phrase, “He tasted it in my pussy juice.” He’s much more tactful about it. “She smelled different.”A smile touches the corner of the doctor’s mouth. “A lot of males know first, if they’re especially in-tune with their mates.”I’m not sure we can describe Nathan as being “in-tune” with me, but I smile back weakly, anyway.The doctor runs me through a barrage of questions: am I experiencing morning sickness? have I noticed weight gain? what about swollen feet, dizziness, fainting?Every time I answer, I wonder if it means something, if my answers will reveal that surprise, I’m not really pregnant at all.I must not be the first person to worry about that in this office, because Dr. Campbell says, “Relax. This is just a thorough record of your symptoms. We’re establishing a history for you and baby.”“Oh. Good.” I feel a little silly. “I know it’s weird,
Somehow, in all the ugliness of pack politics and multiple attempts on my life, I totally forgot about pre-natal care.I’m just not sure how to get it, at first. Thralls are in charge of all of our medical care, and I don’t know how much we want them to know. But Nathan and I decide that we can’t take a chance with the baby’s life.As we wait in the exam room, looking at all the posters of werewolf fetal development and the plastic anatomical model of the baby’s head in the birth canal—no thank you—I find the situation becoming more real by the second.“Did you ever think you’d have kids?” I ask Nathan, who’s looking over a pamphlet about the first trimester.He lifts his eyebrows and folds the pamphlet before neatly tucking it into his inside jacket pocket. “I assumed I would. In a hypothetical, detached kind of way. There’s so much pressure to find a mate and breed right away. That’s never appealed to me.”“It’s not so appealing to me, but here I am. In a paper gown.” I laugh nervou
“They’re not thralls?” She’s just as bewildered by the information as I was. “Like, thralls that ran away from the pack or—”“Just humans who use magic.” Since I don’t know the details of how that all works, and since that’s not really the point of the conversation, I go on. “We needed someone outside of any pack, who could examine the spell objectively and tell us what we needed to know, without any investment in the outcome.”“What did he find?” The fact that Tara is talking to me now, not just looking for ways to snipe at me, feels like a cheap thing to be happy about. It doesn’t mean anything other than that she’s interested in this particular conversation.But I’ll take it. “I’m bound with runes from Tyr’s aett.” I don’t have to explain what those are; Tara’s always been a bit of a mythology nerd. “And Nathan is bound with etheric chains.”“Like Fenrir,” she says, referencing the wolf held captive by the gods. She glances down at my stump. “Wait. Nathan didn’t—”“No, Nathan isn’t
Tara is dressed all in black, seated on the sofa in the parlor adjoining her room and Clare’s. That door is closed, draped with black bunting.I sit in the chair perpendicular to the sofa and silently will my sister to look at me, to speak to me beyond the mumbled, “Your Majesty,” I got when she curtseyed formally at my entrance, or the offer of a beverage, which I refused.“How are you?” I ask finally.“It’s very lonely here,” she says flatly. “It was different, with Clare. More like when we lived at home, before we were mated. We didn’t see each other much when you were away.”“Because you were newly wed?”She nods.“I understand that,” I try, hating myself for even attempting to link my experience with hers. “Getting caught up in your mate’s life and drifting away from your own.”“It’s a bit different for you. You’re also caught up in being queen.” She finally makes eye contact with me. “Do you think that maybe you got too caught up in it? And that’s why…”She doesn’t finish her se