Ivy's POVSpencer and I are tangled up in the bedsheets, slowly cooling down together. His fingers stroke my shoulders gently, a soft, soothing motion that tugs at my heartstrings. Spencer kisses my body tirelessly as I breathe in and out, trying to pull my thoughts together. I’m still reeling from the waves of pleasure that swept through me, and it’s taking all my effort not to slip into slumber pressed against Spencer’s warm, reassuring body. As Spencer leans over me to kiss my forehead, my hands skim his back, and suddenly he lets out a sharp hiss of pain. My eyes widened. I sit up straight and look at Spencer’s back, and my heart drops. Now that all his injuries from the battle have been cleaned in the shower, his wounds are no longer mixed with grime–the deep cuts on his skin are fully exposed, revealing raw, red flesh that’s shocking to behold. It’s obvious that he hasn’t received any sort of medical attention for his injuries. “Oh my goodness, Spencer!” I cry out, pulling
Ivy's POV“You look beautiful.”I look up at Spencer with a grateful smile, fiddling with the long, flowing sleeve of my red dress. “You don’t look so bad yourself,” I say, admiring Spencer’s elegant black suit. His pocket square matches my dress exactly. “Unfortunately, considering it’s my family, this banquet is going to be dreadful no matter how dashing we look,” Spencer says with a long sigh. I laugh. “Oh, I’m sure it won’t be that bad. Let’s go.”Spencer reaches for my hand and squeezes it tightly as he leads me out of the room and into the hallway. Together, we walked to a wing of the palace that I’ve never seen before. We stop in front of a large set of double doors, a guard standing on either side. When they see Spencer, they both bow deeply before simultaneously drawing the doors open. Spencer looks at me reassuringly as we walk into the banquet hall. My sleek silver heels click on the marble floor with every step as Spencer and I approach our seats hand in hand. The Lyca
Ivy's POV“From here on out, Delilah will be Prince Spencer’s fiancée.”I feel like I’m in shock, the words replaying in my mind over and over again. I can hear a faint ringing in my ears, can feel the start of a headache splitting the base of my skull. Spencer’s fiancée?How is this possible? Judging by the stunned, angry expression on Spencer’s face, he’s every bit as shocked as I am.“Spencer can’t marry Delilah!” Princess Sylvia blurts out, looking at the queen with an expression of surprise that mirrors my own. “Ivy is Spencer’s mate, and the two of them share a special bond that can never be broken.”At Sylvia’s reminder of the Blood Oath Ceremony, I feel somewhat reassured. She’s right–Spencer and I share something that no one else could ever share with him. No one can take that from us.But even still, I’m terrified of losing him. The Lycan Queen glares daggers at me from across the room. “A she-wolf without a wolf has no right to become the Prince’s Luna,” she declares. Th
Spencer's POVAt the sound of Delilah’s words, I can’t help but wonder if maybe, like me, she’s only here because of the arrangements her parents made for her.After all, marriage alliances between powerful pack figures certainly aren’t uncommon, and Alpha’s daughters are the most sought-after girls in the world. Delilah’s youth, as well as her pack’s strength, put her in an ideal position to be used in the most optimal and high-strength alliances. An Alpha’s daughter is considered lucky if she gets a say in who she’s married off to, so it certainly wouldn’t come as a shock to me if Delilah is just as unwilling a participant in this whole scheme as I am. I look at Delilah’s wide, shining eyes. She wants to be friends with me and Ivy? I figure friendship is much more in Ivy’s wheelhouse than mine, but nevertheless, it’s a harmless enough request. I nod at her, granting her request. “We should leave now,” I tell Ivy quickly, grabbing her arm. Just as the two of us are about to leave
Spencer's POV“You need to reject your mate.” I look over at my mother in irritation, crossing my arms over my chest. We’ve only just swept out of the banquet hall and into a small private meeting room, but my mother is certainly not one to beat around the bush, and I can see from the steely look in her eye that she's absolutely made up her mind. She hates Ivy, and there’s nothing I can do to get around that fact. As much as I hate it, I might as well let go of the notion of my family opening up to accept her. For as long as Ivy remains in this palace, I know my mother will do everything she can to make her life a living hell. “You know I’m not going to reject her, Mother,” I say impatiently, already turning to leave. This is a waste of time, and I want to be with Ivy now. I don’t need to entertain her cruelty any longer, and I have no interest in seeing how many other people she can rope into her schemes. “Wait!” She cries out, grabbing my arm. I turn around and look down at m
Ivy's POVA day after the disastrous banquet, as I’m decompressing in my room, I suddenly hear a knock on my door. I set down the book I was reading and rush over to my door in a hurry, wondering who it could be. Spencer’s off training for now, and I know he’ll be busy for a while longer. I’m not sure who I’m expecting, but when I open the door to find Delilah Devereaux–Alpha Maverick’s daughter–standing in the doorway, I’m caught off guard. “Um, hello?” I say uncertainly. “Can I help you…” Delilah smiles politely, hands clasped neatly in front of her. “I’ll be in the area for a short while longer,” she says, voice sweet and lilting like bells. “And I was wondering if, during my stay here, the two of us could be friends?”“Oh!” I reply, slightly taken aback. It’s not Delilah’s fault–since arriving at the palace, no one here has made an effort to befriend me. More often than not, I’ve been met with upfront cruelty, especially at the hands of other women here. So Delilah’s offer is
Ivy's POVOnce Delilah has left the palace and Spencer has returned to his training, I walk through the winding palace halls to invite Princess Sylvia to the picnic. I knock on the door, rocking back on my heels as I wait for the princess to let me in. When the door finally opens, Princess Sylvia looks surprised to see me. “Ivy!” She exclaims. “Um, is there something you need…?”“Hi, Princess Sylvia. Spencer, Delilah, and I were going to throw a picnic,” I explain. “I was wondering if you’d like to join us?” “Delilah–oh, that Alpha’s daughter?” The princess seems utterly shocked by the invitation. She hesitates for a moment, staring at me with wide eyes. I wait patiently for her answer. Her surprise makes sense, I suppose–after all, virtually every one of our interactions have involved her bullying me in some way, shape, or form. She’d even gone so far as to accidentally get us dragged into the enemy’s trap. I can tell Princess Sylvia doesn’t dislike me anymore, after everything w
Ivy's POVThat evening, just after Beta Wilson was wrapping up his patrol, I ran into him in the garden. Bathed in the pale moonlight, he looks like the calm, stoic figure of contemplation. The announcement of Sylvia’s pending engagement caught us all by surprise–I wouldn’t be surprised if ever since he heard the news, Beta Wilson has been downright tormented.And I’m almost positive that that’s why things have been so strained between him and sylvia. “Beta Wilson!” I greet kindly, jogging along the terrace-lined cobblestone path to where he’s standing. I look up at him with a cheerful smile. “I was hoping I’d see you tonight. I was wondering if you’d like to join me for a picnic at some point this week?”Beta Wilson hesitates, seeming confused by the invitation.“Sylvia will be there,” I add brightly.His eyes narrow. “No,” he refuses right away. I tilt my head, realizing that Beta Wilson has been purposely steering clear of Sylvia’s path. Not even any awkwardness or tension or a
Spencer’s POVThis time, as I walk out onto the almost-still battlefield, I can feel the full force of my power returning to me. Heads swivel in my direction as I approach the center of the battleground. My Lycan aura crackles around me, a silhouette of pure power that follows behind me everywhere I step. Thanks to the Moon Goddess’s blessing as well as Ivy’s rejuvenation, I feel good again. Strong. I know I could control everyone on this field right now if I wanted to, but I don’t need to. Not yet. Right now, the gentle coercion of my Lycan aura around me is all I need. Ivy follows behind me. I can tell by the rhythm of her gait that she’s anxious to get out of here as soon as possible. I can’t see her, but I know her well enough by now that I can guess her gaze is darting around anxiously, eyeing every enemy in sight. But the longer I walk, the more confidence in my step, the more the sounds of battle start to quiet. Soon enough, the only sound to be heard is the soft pad of my f
Ivy’s POVWhile the scattered sounds of combat continue to fill the air, by and large, it seems that the battle has begun to come to a close. The last werewolf rebels are continuing to attack every Lycan warrior they see, but our enemy’s numbers have been considerably thinned. Now, the rebels are few and far between, sticking out like sore thumbs as they attempt to take down our ranks. It’s clear that we could still lose quite a few more lives at this point, but it would be meaningless. The battle has been won. It’s over. Anything else that happens now is just tying up the loose ends. “What happens now?” I ask Spencer softly, taking a look around. Wilson is still on the ground, writhing in agony as the silver spray continues to worm its way into his skin. My heart twinges with sympathy for him, but there’s nothing Spencer or I could do to alleviate the pain. Nearby, I can see Gamma Everly kneeling over Alpha Leo’s unconscious–hopefully unconscious, that is–body. Everywhere I look
Ivy’s POVI leap towards the witch without a moment’s hesitation. She lets out a shrill scream and tries to angle her antlers towards me. The side of one of the antlers cuts into my left arm, but it’s a shallow enough wound not to faze me, and I’m able to use the momentum against her and send her tumbling to the ground. The witch’s body is cold, uncannily so, and I can feel shivers starting to run through me as I press my paw against her throat. But the blood spilling from her severed hand is warm, and beneath all the strange magic etched into her being, she does seem to be alive. Which means she could, feasibly, be killed. “You’ll never get away with this!” The witch shrieks. Her voice seems to be going up to unnatural heights that I’m only able to hear due to my enhanced senses. “Jason is my son. You’ll never understand him like I could. He’ll never belong with you! You’re sentencing him to life as an outcast. Put your own cruelty and selfish wants aside for just one second. The
Spencer’s POVIvy and I exchange a single look, and it’s like we can read each other’s minds. Without even having to speak the words aloud, we turn away from Elder Jet’s corpse in unison and rush towards the ongoing scuffle. After having spent so long stuck on this battlefield together, and thanks to the months we’ve spent learning more and more about one another, strengthening our bonds, it feels like we’ve moved past typical forms of communication in so many ways. Ivy and I don’t need to tell each other our strategy–as I make my way behind the witch, and as Ivy swiftly leaps in front of her, I know what she’s trying to do. Ivy throws her body between the witch and Wilson. “Stay back!” She snarls, teeth snapping wickedly. Her snow white fur is streaked with blood, like berries crushed underfoot on a cold winter day. “Elder Jet is dead now. His cause is ruined. There’s nothing for you here.” “Foolish girl,” the witch rasps, extending her free hand and pointing one long finger towar
Ivy’s POVAs I scan the battlefield impatiently, doing my best to figure out where I could be the most helpful, all I can see is need. Spencer’s announcement on how to best take down the rebel werewolves has certainly been incredibly beneficial to the Lycan warriors. As I watch the battle continue to play out, the warriors are now employing tactics more or less reliant on grace or dexterity to make sure they can have the upper hand as much as possible. And while it’s encouraging to see the warriors continuing to make the best of the situation they’re in, adapting to the difficulties of such ruthless and magically enhanced opponents, there’s still so much death here. The Lycan warriors are getting more and more exhausted with each second that passes, and one side effect of those blasted potions seems to be enhanced stamina. Despite all our efforts to make sure the warriors have as much support as possible to do what they need to do and conclude this battle once and for all, we’re sti
Spencer’s POVThe skin of Elder Jet’s throat splits like silk beneath my claws. The last sound he ever makes is a small gasp, as though even after everything he’s said about accepting his fate, he’s still somehow surprised that I’d actually do it. For just a few moments, blood gushes liberally from the ragged wound in his throat–his weak heart pumping out blood with its last bits of strength. But as soon as his heart gives out, the blood flow stops its torrent. I raise my gaze back up to Elder Jet’s face. I want to feel something as I look over him–the wounds marring his features, his matted, stained fur, the glassy lifelessness in his eyes–but I don’t feel a thing. I pull away from Elder Jet slowly, staring at his corpse splayed out on the grass. This is the man who tried to kill me. Who tried to kill Ivy. Who succeeded in killing my father. He’s twisted and manipulated the minds of countless young werewolves, many of whom are no doubt dead thanks to him. Every action in his miser
Spencer’s POVWhen I see Elder Jet pinned beneath Ivy’s strong hold, the first thing I feel is pride. Over the course of knowing her, I’ve seen Ivy reclaim her own strength and power against all odds. When no one else believed in her, she believed in herself, and she’s been able to accomplish amazing things because of it. The sight of her now, able to so easily control such a powerful and influential man despite having been teetering on the verge of death so long ago… I’m so proud of her. I stalk towards Ivy and Elder Jet with a bold grin. “Thank you for taking care of him, Ivy,” I say. “Would you like me to handle things from here?” “It would be my pleasure,” Ivy replies. She strikes him across the face–just once, swiftly and harshly enough to open up a rather sizeable welt on his upper right cheek. As Elder Jet is still reeling from the blow, Ivy releases her hold on him and allows me to take her place. Before Elder Jet can even register the switch, I’ve got him firmly in my gr
Ivy’s POVThe sensation of Elder Jet’s skin tearing beneath my claws is one of the best things I’ve felt in a long, long time. Elder Jet lets out a sharp cry of pain as my claws rip into him. I can feel hot splashes of blood splattering up onto me, and I only curl my talons deeper. Elder Jet’s cry bleeds into a shout as I rip my paw back, tearing a ragged hunk of flesh out of his shoulder. “You,” Elder Jet snarls, looking up at me with an expression of profound loathing as he curls his lip at me and takes a step back. “Me,” I repeat with a smug grin, shaking the bits of viscera out of my claws. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Gamma Everly doing her best to limp away. Elder Jet doesn’t pay her any mind, though. His gaze is focused on me like a laser, and I can tell I’m his only focus right now. “You should be dead right now,” Elder Jet stammers out. His speech is already starting to slur from the blood loss. “After that potion we gave you, after the injuries, after–I killed
Ivy’s POVThe moment Spencer gets tossed back into the throes of battle, I know the final wave of combat has begun. I don’t waste a moment before shifting into my wolf form. I can feel the familiar surge of power rushing through my body. Every flex of my muscles, every arch and twist of my graceful limbs seems to be crackling with barely-restrained strength. My fur is as white as pure snow right now, but I know it’s only a matter of time before it becomes stained pomegranate red. My razor-sharp fangs, sharp as knives, are bared menacingly as I look around expectantly and grin. “None of you could kill me!” I shout, muzzle turned upwards towards the sky. I let out a victorious howl. “No matter how hard you try, you can’t stop me!” I pad back and forth, feeling the clots of dirt beneath my paws. Out of the corner of my eye, I can spot the wrought-iron cage that was used to hold me. I lunge towards it, a growl rumbling in the base of my throat, and twist its metal bars until the cage i