Blue-Blooded

The timer sounded, and Sapphira jumped up from the sofa to rescue her dinner from the oven. Her cabin was small enough that the smell of roasting sweet potato and spices had been taunting her for 20 minutes. She slid the wedges onto her plate before settling back in front of the TV. Flicking through a few channels, she put on the latest drama, something about sexy fire-fighting werewolves—anything to take her mind off the coming week.  The cabin had been offered to her by the Alpha of the Bridgewater pack after she had begged him to take her in. Alphas were under strict instructions by the King to prevent wolves from going rogue, or they had to offer homes to wolves seeking refuge. The cabin was small and needed work; the sink leaked, and some of the floorboards were coming loose, but it was warm and dry.  The weeks that she had spent travelling through the kingdom of Venelia to get here had been long, and she had spent many nights huddled under a t

The week was passing in a blur. Irina, the packhouse matron, had been ordering grumpy wolves around all week. It was the first Mating Ball to be held by the Bridgewater pack in 5 years, and everything was going to be perfect. "Cleaning duties at the packhouse" had become "preparation for the Mating Ball", with flowers and food and decorations arriving every afternoon. The main hall was usually empty unless pack members needed chairs for meetings, but now tables lined the walls, with a stage at one end to accommodate musicians. Pink and orange oriental lilies hung in giant wreaths from the walls, with lights strung through them, twinkling and sparkling. The enormous windows that stretched floor to ceiling on the east side of the building were draped with a delicate silvery mesh, reflecting the light from the cast iron chandelier that hung low in the centre of the room.  And Irina was not finished. "Don't you get mud on my floor!" Clutching her cli

The only sounds in the room were the slow drip of her blood onto the floor and her racing heart. The tangy smell of her fear became consuming. "Easy. I have no desire to hand you over to your family." "Why?" She rasped. His answering smile was breathtaking. "Because I want you for myself." Her soft snort reverberated off the fractured windows. The sword slid back into its sheath with an easy sigh as the warmth of his chest disappeared. If he wanted to kill her, the sword was unlikely to stop him. His wolf was a shadow to his human form; its presence seemed to lurk in the corners behind him. Watching and waiting. The Beast, indeed. Her skin crawled, and she shivered, suddenly aware of the chill. "My brother will kill me." "I know," the desk groaned under his weight. "Which is why I want you to come back with me." Outrunning her family was madness. But she wasn't sure she had any other choice. If she stayed here, the news

Sapphira's ankle gave way and she tumbled forward into the dark. The ground was cold and gritty under her, the air pungent with mildew and ... more jasmine. This place was old. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and her vision sharpened, her wolf sensing for threats. But the air was still. The only movement was a trickle of water running down the wall. She turned towards the direction she had fallen from, her eyes adjusting in the dark as Evander materialised behind her. He dusted his shoulders and adjusted his cuffs before extending a hand towards her. "Sapphira, darling. The floor is no place for a beauty like you." She snarled gently and heaved herself up, pointedly ignoring his hand. He shrugged and flicked his fingers, a golden light erupting from the candelabra on the walls. Her jaw dropped, the relatively small room was full of dark mirrors. Some had sheets thrown over them; others stood on their own, more huddled together in groups as though they were conversin