Cerelia“Soren!” His name tears from my throat like a roll of razor wire, cutting me to ribbons. Why did he jump? My magic would have been faster than Arista once he warned me of her approach.If only I’d gone to find someone who could teach me about the healing side of my magic I’d be worth something right now. Hilda saved us, there wasn’t even any need for my defensive magic. Now she’s hovering on the other side of the veil and Soren’s life force is seeping into the earth and there’s nothing I can do for either of them.“Stop,” Soren whispers, his eyes fixed on my face. I’m pushing as much of my own vitality into his body as I can, but it’s not enough. The sword pierced his lungs and without a way to heal the internal damage, I’m only delaying the inevitable.“No. You won’t leave me Soren, not now.” I can feel my power weakening with each beat of my heart, but I refuse to give up. Surely my magic has to be good for more than undoing spells? I know I have some healing ability, even i
Arlo“King Arlo, you have to get some rest,” Percy tells me when he stops by the cabin and finds me still holding Hilda.“I’ll rest when my mate’s back. She’s cold and alone, I need her to know that I’m here,” I tell him shortly, tightening my arms around her body, as if I’m afraid she’ll be snatched from me.Who can blame me when for all intents and purposes that’s already happened? I’ve tried to find even a glimmer of our link, but it’s gone.Hilda is completely still, something she almost never was in life, unless we were basking in the afterglow of our lovemaking, or she was sleeping. It’s unsettling feeling no heartbeat and seeing no air entering her lungs. Her body temperature has increased, but it only lasts for as long as I’m holding her. The moment she’s on her own, it drops again.Cerelia has been by twice to assure me that there’s still no decomposition taking place and rigor mortis hasn’t set in, but I can’t find Hilda and I’ve never felt more lonely in my life.“I underst
SorenI’m still weaker than a newborn after 2 weeks. Barely able to get out of bed by myself. Cerelia managed to patch me up, but there’s no telling whether I’ll ever fully recover. The damage to my lung was quite extensive and it’s healed with scar tissue. In all likelihood I’ll lose some lung function and never be the warrior I once was.In the bigger scheme of things, it’s not even a sacrifice. I get to live. Most importantly, I get to share that life with Cerelia. My soulmate. The woman who was willing to offer her life to save mine. The last time that happened, it didn’t turn out so well.Heaviness settles on my chest when I think about Hilda. Twice now she’s selflessly decided to make the ultimate sacrifice to save the people she loves.She’s still dead for all intents and purposes, although according to Tara and Cerelia the fetus she carries is still growing. It’s impossible to understand where it’s taking nutrients from.Cerelia helped me to hobble over to King Arlo’s cabin an
HildaIt takes me a long time to force my eyes to open. My body feels foreign and I’m freezing. I try to roll over so I can snuggle into Arlo’s always warm arms, but I seem to be stuck in position like a beached whale.Pain rips through my abdomen as though a giant, serrated knife is cutting me open and Arlo’s suddenly by my side, staring down at me in wonder. “You’re awake,” he breathes, looking stunned.The pain abated for a second, but now it’s back with a vengeance and I screech helplessly. Arlo grabs my hand, peppering my face with kisses. “Hilda, you’ve been in a coma for nearly 9 months. You’re in labor, our baby’s being born.”“I’m going to help you through this, just try to breathe. I know it must be confusing. I was so worried you’d never come back to me.” I’m giving birth? Panic grips my heart. Tara said I wouldn’t be able to do that.Screw Tara, she won’t dictate my future. Veilbreaker didn’t kill me and Arlo’s been waiting for me. I never gave up before and I’m not starti
HildaI stare at Not Arlo and he looks so much like my soulmate that it shreds my heart. I want this to be real. The bit where I’m awake and I’ve just given birth to our son. Not the part where Arlo’s turned into an asshole.“You’re not him,” I say sadly, handing the baby back to him. “And this isn’t my child.” Chilling laughter fills my head.“Maelor was right, you would have been the perfect host. Zesty, smart and strong. You even have good taste in men. I would have enjoyed fucking this bucking bronco, but you couldn’t let me have that, could you?”I know immediately that the woman wrapping herself around Not Arlo is Morgana. He’s not my Arlo, I don’t give a damn what she does with this soulless carbon copy.Her hair is a cascade of dark curls, coiled like living tendrils around her shoulders, framing her impossibly lovely face. High cheekbones cast sharp hollows in the flickering light, her full lips curled in a knowing smirk as she eyes me. Her eyes, deep green, laced with gold,
DamonThe news reaches me before dawn, whispered in the ears of those who know better than to keep secrets from me. Soren is weak. Not just exhausted or wounded, but broken. The kind of weakness that lingers, that seeps into the bones and never truly leaves.I sit in my office, fingers drumming against the arm of my chair, the firelight flickering against the walls. The messenger, a thin, twitchy bastard from one of my outer patrols, whose name I can’t be bothered to recall, stands before me, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He reeks of nerves, and for good reason.“Say that again,” I order, my voice deceptively calm. He swallows hard. “Soren was badly injured during the King’s fight with the mages. He took a sword in the lung while trying to save Cerelia. He should have died. Cerelia kept him breathing with magic.”His lips press into a thin line, as though the words taste foul in his mouth. “But he’s not what he was. Won’t be for a long time. Maybe never from what I’ve heard.”
HildaI’m trapped. Not dead, not alive, just...here. In purgatory with a jealous witch. The frustration this rouses in me is consuming me whole. It’s not fair. I want to kick and scream and rail against fate and magic and all the rest of it. I want to be with my mate, celebrating my pregnancy.The one that isn’t doomed at all. Morgana orchestrated that entire situation. If I could kill her here, she’d be dead already.Morgana paces, graceful as a panther, though there’s nothing idle about the way she moves. She’s watching me, gauging me, waiting. For what, I don’t know yet, but I won’t give her the satisfaction of showing how unsettling it is to be under her scrutiny.“I can see the wheels turning,” she murmurs, amusement curling at the edges of her voice. “Trying to find a way out?”I don’t answer. Let her think what she wants.She gives an exaggerated, mocking sigh. “You’re wasting your time. Do you think I haven’t spent centuries doing the same? Trying, failing and trying again? I
ArloI keep my hand over hers, my thumb tracing slow, idle circles against her skin. It should be warm. She should be warm. Instead, it’s cool to the touch, too still, too lifeless to be the dancing flame that is Hilda.I lean forward, pressing my forehead to the back of her hand, inhaling deeply, searching for any lingering trace of her scent. It’s there, just barely, faint traces of something floral, something uniquely her, but it’s fading. Like everything else.Weeks. It’s been weeks. She doesn’t breathe. She doesn’t stir. There’s no heartbeat, no sign of life. The bond, our bond, disappeared the moment she fell. It should have killed me. It almost did. The absence of it is a void I can’t escape, an endless chasm swallowing me whole.That’s how I know she isn’t gone. There’s more proof in the slight swell of her belly. Where our child is still growing inside her against all reason. Somehow kept alive through magic I don’t understand. But if our child still exists, then so does she.
AshRedgrave is sprawled across her settee, twirling a glass of whisky in one hand, watching me with that gleam in her eye. The one that says she thinks we’re sharing secrets, building a future, falling deeper into whatever twisted version of love she believes this is.I play my part. “There’s something you need to do,” I say, leaning forward. My voice is low, serious enough to catch her attention without sounding like I’m issuing orders. I’m not that careless. She likes to be consulted, not commanded.“Oh?” she purrs, raising a brow, clearly expecting me to suggest something erotic.“Malcolm will ask you to sign over the money to him soon. He’ll tell you he needs it in order to finalize the logistics. But what it really is, is the last step before he makes his move.”She frowns, sitting up straighter. “What move?” I meet her gaze. “He plans to kill you.” There’s a beat of silence, then she laughs. “Please. Malcolm doesn’t have the spine.”“He doesn’t need spine,” I say softly. “He has
HildaThe water in the creek is cold enough to make me gasp when I slip beneath the surface, but I don’t mind. It’s clean and fresh and I like the way it wakes my skin up. Besides, I’ve got a six-foot-five personal furnace about to follow me in.“You’re making that face,” Arlo says from the edge of the creek, voice low and amused. “What face?”“The smug one. The I know I look like a goddess in the moonlight face.” I swim backward a few strokes and lift my chin, hair slicked back, droplets sliding down my shoulders. “The only reason I believe that is because you keep telling me I do, so it’s all your fault.”He grins wolfishly, slow and appreciative, and steps into the water. It only takes him two strides to reach me. I get a full, brazen look at everything before the water hits his waist, and it’s a very enjoyable view.“You always get smug when you’re naked,” he murmurs, closing the space between us. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”“It’s not.” His hands find my hips beneath the
AshThe moment we’re back in Isadora’s bedroom I close the door behind us and she presses her body against mine.She’s still wearing that flimsy excuse for a nightgown. Blood-red silk barely clinging to her hips, one shoulder falling in a way that’s clearly meant to look accidental. She reaches for my chest, fingertips tracing the edge of a fading bruise, but I step back.“Darling,” she purrs, tilting her head. “Surely you’re not in a rush to leave this room? I thought we could—”“I think we’re running out of time,” I cut in, sharper than I intended. Her pout falters. “We’ve only just been reunited. You don’t want to celebrate?”I force a smile, trying not to let my frustration show. “Believe me, I’d like nothing more than to lie in bed and let you distract me. But something tells me the wolves aren’t going to sit around and wait for us to finish indulging our passions.”She sighs and stalks to the chaise lounge, throwing herself down with the flair of a silent film star. “You’re righ
AshTara won’t look at me. It must sicken her to see me in such a dishevelled state with Isadora. I tried to convince her we should bathe and get dressed first, but I suspect she wants Tara to know what we’ve been up to.I’ve never had any trouble sexually pleasing my partners. I’m an inventive, attentive and insatiable lover under normal circumstances. Last night was the first time since becoming human that I had to close my eyes and pretend.I imagined Tara was the one in bed with me. The one I kissed. The one who sucked my cock with such exuberance. The one I fucked until she was exhausted and passed out in my arms.I didn’t offer Isadora pleasure with my tongue this time. Exceptionally talented as I am at cunnilingus, I know she was hoping I would. I haven’t had the pleasure of tasting Tara, but I know she would burst on my tongue like some exotic fruit. Intoxicating my senses. I couldn’t suckle Isadora’s clit and keep lying to myself about who I was with.“Tell me how to break th
TaraI feel violated and ill when I wake up the following morning. Ash certainly doesn’t have human stamina, based on the information gleaned from the books I’ve read. Human males apparently require a period of recovery between one bout of mating and the next.“Thank you for the books,” I tell the serving girl when she brings my breakfast. She glances at the bedside table and her eyes briefly meet mine before darting to the floor again. “That one’s good, but the other one is better,” she says quietly.So these aren’t from Redgrave at all. “I’ll make sure to hide them when I have visitors,” I promise her quietly. She lowers her head, “I don’t think she’ll know. She doesn’t pay much attention to the house. You can just say you found them in a drawer.”“My name is Tara,” I tell her gently. She looks at me again with a faint smile, “I know. The mistress cursed your name repeatedly when you took Sir Ash from her before.” Right. I wonder how Redgrave believes I managed that. It’s all to t
TaraAsh seems to have accelerated healing abilities like we do. He told me he’s never been sick and he doesn’t think he ages, but he has no idea if that’s pure luck or if he’s not as human as he seems.The black eye took a bit longer to heal than the lacerations from the whipping, but it was still much faster than a human would have mended.I wish I could see him. Just for a minute. Just to be sure he’s in the same shape physically that I am. Logically I know he has to be, but I need to see with my own eyes that he’s fine. Or at least as fine as it’s possible to be while pretending to be enchanted by a completely delusional woman.If Isadora Redgrave hadn’t shown up when she did, I know exactly what would have happened to me next in that cage and I despise having to feel grateful to her, but I can’t deny that I am. I’d rather be beaten for hours on end than sexually violated by Malcolm.I know the only reason I’m being kept in this beautiful room and fed like royalty is because
RedgraveAs much as I despise Tara, seeing her spread-eagled, bloody and whimpering in pain doesn’t bring me any pleasure. I’m not a cat, who needs to play with my food before I deal the final blow.“Do you no longer need her to get you across the border?” I ask with a raised brow. Malcolm frowns as though the question makes no sense. “I do. She’s not dead,” he responds sullenly.“I gather she attacked you?” His jaw clenches, “What are you getting at, Isadora?” he asks irritably. “I’m trying to understand why you’re torturing her. What’s the point?”“She came here to spy on us before. My men only caught her this time because she was chasing down your precious Ash. She may have important information that could impact the mission,” he informs me dryly. Like I’m a silly child asking stupid questions. I wonder whether he knows that the thin layer of ice that he’s standing on has already started to crack.“Have you asked her?” I enquire. I can hear his teeth grinding together before he
MalcolmEither I was incredibly unlucky with the first werewolf I captured, or this one is very weak for some reason. Maybe because she’s linked to the human.I need to know whether most of them are more like Arlo, or like her. It’s going to make a huge difference in the size of the force I need. Arlo bent steel bars and wouldn’t go down until he was peppered with tranquillizer darts.I wouldn’t have stepped into Arlo’s cage for all the money in the world. Not even when he’d just been knocked out. This little female is completely different. One shot puts her down and she hasn’t attempted to shift once.Maybe I don’t even need to keep putting up with Redgrave. I’ve acquired an arsenal of weapons because Arlo refused to bloody die. Something tells me if I shoot this one in the head, she’ll expire immediately.As tempted as I am to test out my theory, I need her to get me into the werewolves’ territory. Her screams are like the most beautiful symphony. Ringing out loudly with each e
TaraArlo’s advice definitely helped. I’ve been drifting in and out of consciousness from the one dart that hit me, but I never fully went under. I’m abruptly pulled from my dreamy state when pain explodes in my head and my left eye starts throbbing.Ash. What are they doing to him? I want to hurl myself at the bars of the cage surrounding me and demand that they set him free, but we have to maintain our cover.“What the hell are you yipping about?” one of the guards stationed around my prison asks. I hadn’t realized I was making small sounds of distress.Based on the sheer volume of armed guards surrounding me, it’s clear King Arlo gave them a lot of trouble. Pride swells in my chest. He truly is a worthy leader for our pack.“Did she just hit herself?” one of the others asked, gaping at what must be significant bruising around my eye.“Crazy bitch,” the first guy mutters. “I’ve been watching her, she didn’t do it to herself. Her head rocked back and then the bruise was there.