Marko’s harsh landing on the car’s engine caused the hood to cave in, halting the car instantly. A mistake, he realised belatedly when the car’s contents, Alba included, rocked forward due to inertia, but something held her back.Relief filled him at that ‘something’, even though it did not save the driver as an airbag popped, bending his neck quite awkwardly.He didn’t care.The car was inches from flying off the cliff; if the crash hadn’t killed him, he would have done it personally.For a moment, he let the night wash over him as her scent filled the air.He could smell the pharmaceutics lacing her blood, but through his bond, her aliveness pulsated.He had finally found his heart after days of fighting, days of killing, days of reeking, nothing but blood that did not belong to him.His hands reached for the car’s roof, prying it open as one would the lid of a can.Her pulse was the first thing he reached for, but her neck was bandaged with a few bruises scouring her cheek, eyes an
Marko’s gaze turned left to right before confirming that the question was meant for him. “They-” He began, confused by the sense of authority she held over him. “They are not your people! Red Graw is not where you belong!” He uttered. Had his mark been replaced? Had he failed to catch her in the nick of time that she would refer to them as ‘her’ people? “Not where I belong.” She repeated with a light laugh that seemed to echo in the open space. “A thousand lifetimes, and my moon has still not learned to love or control his temper.” Her words filled him with a sense of melancholy that he could not place. “Every wolf kind is my own.” She uttered before stretching her hand, palm upwards. A light shot from her palm that pierced the smoke clouds filling the sky. Within seconds, the light widened, covering everything before it vanished, and the sky remained clear for a few moments before dark clouds followed at high momentum. The glowing Alba stepped down from the podium with r
His mouth moved, but nothing came. She had said once that he reminded her of Red Graw or something along those lines, but…surely things were different between them. He genuinely loved her; unlike those examples the fragment gave. As if sensing his hesitation, she continued. “I do this hurtful thing to you because I love you…because I want to protect you because you cannot do this on your own because you need me to think for you, to save you. Because you are not capable. Because you are weak. Because I Love you. Because I love you. Because…I love you.” She uttered in the silence that followed, leaving him, for the first time in his life, speechless. His mind racked hastily to find words that would defend him. “I would never hurt Alba in the way the Alpha did.” He uttered. “I would never justify violence against her or leave marks on her.” “Mm…you would never hurt her. You would never leave marks on her.” She repeated. “Why not say you would never hit her or leave visible ma
“I am fine, Marko. You don’t need to visit me every day.” I utter for the nth time as he strokes my hand over his. He has been oddly clingy of late, a part of me believes that he thinks I will leave in the middle of the night or transform into someone else, all possibilities, but it could just be that he is under stress; after all, thirty-six of our warriors were declared dead, while another two missing in action, all in the chaos that ensued in Red Graw. In other words, all because of me. I hate to say or think it, but his life will definitely be a lot easier without me in it. Then what of ‘ugly’? Will I burden him too? Marko’s silver eyes peer at me for a good long while, so I smile. A part of me wants to welcome him on my hospital bed so we lay together at least before we have to face the future, yet, another does not want him to stay too long. I do not want him to show me sides of himself that I will miss. “Do not worry; I will be with you during the national funeral tomo
The tightness of my black dress does not ease the hole in my chest. Sharon has declared me healthy; she has neither spotted nor noticed anything odd. Kaisa has come back to me, but the feeling of Jax in my arms, rapidly losing warmth, has not left me. Then again, neither have the nightmares, the constant vigilance even in situations that don’t require it, and the flinching every time someone mentions Red Graw. It is as if the kidnapping was not the worst part; my body still does not register that I am safe. Am I safe? Safe from assassination attempts and from more suicidal drivers? Good god, I used to own a boutique in simplicity; my only danger was catching feeling and now… cannot even sleep. Violet’s hand laces in mine before she rests her head on my shoulder. “I am sorry.” I whisper. I do not know why, but I feel as though I betrayed our friendship either by having the powers he wanted or introducing them when we first moved to the city together. Then again, killing him sho
The car pulls up to the entrance of the warrior funeral home, which is disrespectfully surrounded by a sea of reporters looking for their daily scoop. The adjustment of my black dress after I step out of the car and into the cool crisp morning air is quick; the press makes it mandatory, for I have no wish to flash the entire world. ‘Your majesty….” “Your majesty, any word to the bereaved!” “Your majesty, any lament about healing those killers!” ‘Your majesty healing the kidnappers is a sign of Stockholm syndrome…” “Your majesty…” Your majesty…” “When is the wedding…” “Your majesty...” The guards make quick work of providing a smooth path for me to walk on as I hold Violet’s hand and do my best to avoid or not take any of the questions personally. Unfortunately, the ‘smooth’ path is not flash or soundproof, so the annoyances continue until we reach the reception, which is oddly and soothingly quiet. “Your majesty.” Again, that burdening title. “Yes?” I turn to the attenda
The speeches went on as protocol dictated, and despite the sombre nature of the events, I could still see a sea of people curiously awaiting my turn as if they could ask questions like in a conference. This is not my first time speaking publicly, but perhaps due to my inability to answer the question of what keeps me in Ketria, they are more than curious about my speech now that people have actually died in my name. Or perhaps I am over-reading this. Either way, I hate this. I…do not think I am worth thirty-six or thirty-eight lives; I do not think anyone is. To add to that, I have no formal plans to be their queen, but this is hardly the time or place to confirm or deny that. But honestly, I must hint; otherwise, it will feel like a betrayal when I finally find a decent excuse to leave Ketria. “I welcome Alba Crane as the representative of the temple of Ketria to offer some words of comfort.” I almost wink at Mother Magdalene for her smooth introduction of me as ‘High Priestes
“We represent the United League of Werewolves based in Chrysalis.”The man that introduced himself as Fredric begins.“Have you heard of us?”The league was akin to the council, only they worked for all werewolves and sometimes in tandem with humans and other leagues like witches, vampires, or dragons to maintain a good relationship between the two.They were bigger than a kingdom or pack, contained mostly geniuses or highly gifted individuals, and were somewhat above laws because they were the law.After placing the flower on the eighth coffin and paying my respects, my gaze turns to the two men.They were young, far too young to be part of an organisation that has existed since the primitive years.“Go on. It might be in your best interest to speed up the conversation; after all, you only have …”I turn my gaze to my basket, and…it is still full.Great“Thirty flowers left?”Benson adds before straightening his glasses.“You give each coffin approximately two minutes, and by that ra