Spencer’s POVThe gentle glow of red moonlight on my skin feels heavenly. I find myself letting out a quiet gasp as the soft rays wash over me. It shouldn’t be such a comforting sight to behold–after all, the moonbeams spilling from the sky like tears are a dark, vicious, fresh-from-the vein shade of blood red. After all the blood I’ve seen and smelled and tasted in this life, more blood should be just about the last thing I want to see. But something about this is different. Almost against my will, my eyes fall shut, suddenly too heavy to keep open for even a moment longer. My muscles fall limp, my body slack on the grass. As wicked as the red glow should be, I feel soothed. Put at ease. Like the universe is finally letting me rest. “What… what is this…” I murmur softly, the words drifting out on the cold night air. All around me, I can hear snippets of noise making their way in and out of my perception. More gasps of shock, of awe, of horror. The moon above is a deep blood red,
Ivy’s POVWhen the first rush of air fills my lungs, it feels like a lifeline tearing me away from some cold, terrible place. There’s a strange urgency to the feeling–that first breath is almost gentle, a soft gust of wind, the tender brush of a familiar hand against a flushed cheek. But the next breath that comes is a desperate, coughing, almost choking thing as my lungs do their best to remember how to take in air. The breath after that is even more ragged, and I can feel my chest heaving over and over again as I go through the motions of taking in air and expelling it even more rapidly. How is this possible? I should be dead. I died. My eyes are still shut tight firmly, but I can feel fresh tears pooling from the corners. At first I assume they’re tears of pain–after all, throughout this whole ordeal, the dreadful pain that’s torn my body apart, I’ve become quite used to tears of pain. But it’s only as I think about pain that I realize I’m not hurting at all. It’s strange, t
Spencer’s POV“Spencer, wake up!” When I hear Ivy’s sweet, beautiful, familiar voice coming from above me, I can feel my heart swell with joy. My eyes snap open. Upon seeing Ivy, her hand gentle on my face, tears begin to well up in the corners of my eyes. I can see her starting to cry, too, face breaking out into a wide smile as she gazes at me with so much love it feels overpowering. “You’re okay,” she says softly, brushing her thumb against my skin. I nod slowly, placing my hand over hers and pressing her even further against me. “You’re okay,” I reply, looking up at her in disbelief. Illuminated by the bright red moonlight, she looks almost otherworldly. She should seem like a mess–her clothes are matted with blood and dirt, her hair is a disaster, and her eyes have this shattered, distant look to them. I can see what this battle has done to Ivy, the profound effects it’s had on her. But seeing her like this, awake, alive… She looks like the single most beautiful being in t
Ivy’s POVMy Alpha fiancé is having sex with my best friend, in my room, on the day I'm supposed to become his Luna.For just a moment, I stand frozen in the doorway, staring at them. My fiancé Erick is still mostly clothed, save for the dress pants bunched around his knees, and my best friend Veronica’s skirt is bunched up at the hip as he thrusts into her roughly from behind. Erick’s got one arm wrapped around her waist, and he holds her tight as he fucks her. Veronica’s eyes are squeezed shut in pleasure, and she’s clearly enjoying herself–Erick has to clamp a hand around her mouth just to keep her from moaning. And they’re fucking on my bed. Somehow that’s the biggest insult of them all. “What are you doing?” I shout, snapping out of my shock and bursting into the room. My wedding dress nearly trips me up, and my cheeks burn as I confront the pair. Erick laughs cruelly. He doesn’t even have the decency to pull out–his hips snap lazily, thrusting in and out of Veronica as she c
Ivy’’s POVI’ve spent every day since my father’s death in excruciating pain. “Please!” I sob out desperately as a Thunderclaw warrior lashes a whip against my skin. I barely register the feeling at this point, I’ve become so used to it. They’ve whipped me relentlessly every day since my wedding went so dreadfully awry. My skin is made of little pieces of cracked flesh at this point. The sticky feeling of blood coating my body is inescapable. I feel like I’m coming undone.And after what happened to my father, I don’t think I’d mind if they finish me off once and for all. The Thunderclaw warrior raises the whip again, smiling evilly. Just as it’s about to hit me, a cold voice cuts through the room.“Stop,” Erick says smoothly, striding into my dungeon cell. I’m imprisoned in my own pack house’s dungeon. As if my humiliation could become even worse. The warrior lowers the whip. “Leave us,” Erick commands.The warrior bows his head once, then leaves the dungeon.It’s just the two
Ivy’s POVI sit naked in the bathtub as the Omega maid scrubs my skin pink, staring straight ahead. It’s Veronica and Erick’s wedding day–the day they’ve chosen to solidify my final humiliation. The maid gives me one last scrub, hauls me out of the water, wraps me in a towel, and dabs rose oil onto my skin. Wordlessly, she drags me towards my miserable rotting mattress of a bed, where a lacy bra and skimpy miniskirt have been laid out for me. I stare at the clothing in shock. “Where’s the rest of it?”The maid shakes her head sadly.My stomach plummets. The maid starts to dress me, and I struggle at first, but it’s no use. When the maid is done stuffing me into my clothes–little more than underwear, really–I look into the rusty old mirror before me. As I’m distracted by the plunging scooped neckline of the bra, the maid clamps shackles around my wrists and ankles. Even though I’ve already lost touch with my inner wolf thanks to the wolfsbane, it’s not enough.Veronica never misses
Ivy’s POV“Move!” A tall, thin werewolf barks at us as he shuffles us down the aisle.I shudder. I’m on my way to the Omega Auction with a huge group of other lowly Omegas, and I’ve never been so scared.As we move, the other Omegas glare at me, knowing full well that if not for my actions, Veronica never would’ve sent anyone to the auction. She’s hell-bent on destroying me, and doesn’t seem to care who gets caught in the crossfire. The thin werewolf in charge of escorting us finally stops shuffling us down the camped dirty Omega tunnels and stops in front of a short, stocky werewolf–the auction employee, I assume. With a grin that makes my blood run cold, the thin werewolf points at me. “Our Luna wants you to take good care of her,” he says to the stocky werewolf with a knowing glance, handing him a wad of cash.What does Veronica want to do to me?The short werewolf nods, malice gleaming in his eyes as he takes the cash and looks me up and down.The other Omegas are shuttled into
Ivy’s POVOn the day of the auction, they dress me up like a seductive lamb leading to slaughter. True to their word, they healed all my wounds externally, but I can still feel the pain under my skin.I saw myself in a mirror as I was led into the auction hall. I’m dressed in an outfit almost identical to the one they had me wearing at the wedding–a strappy bra and short skirt. My long auburn hair has been styled so it cascades down my face in soft, luxurious waves, and my makeup is heavy, shadowy and sultry. I look, objectively, beautiful. Seductive, alluring, even. But I also look far too revealing than I’m comfortable with. As I walk up onto the stage, all the Alphas in the shadowy audience seating stare at me with lustful eyes that make my skin crawl. Yet, as an Alpha-blooded she-wolf, all I feel is humiliation.My gaze lands on Veronica, arm-in-arm with Erick, seated contentedly in a side box.Scratch that. I feel nothing but humiliation and loathing. “And now,” the auctioneer
Spencer’s POV“Spencer, wake up!” When I hear Ivy’s sweet, beautiful, familiar voice coming from above me, I can feel my heart swell with joy. My eyes snap open. Upon seeing Ivy, her hand gentle on my face, tears begin to well up in the corners of my eyes. I can see her starting to cry, too, face breaking out into a wide smile as she gazes at me with so much love it feels overpowering. “You’re okay,” she says softly, brushing her thumb against my skin. I nod slowly, placing my hand over hers and pressing her even further against me. “You’re okay,” I reply, looking up at her in disbelief. Illuminated by the bright red moonlight, she looks almost otherworldly. She should seem like a mess–her clothes are matted with blood and dirt, her hair is a disaster, and her eyes have this shattered, distant look to them. I can see what this battle has done to Ivy, the profound effects it’s had on her. But seeing her like this, awake, alive… She looks like the single most beautiful being in t
Ivy’s POVWhen the first rush of air fills my lungs, it feels like a lifeline tearing me away from some cold, terrible place. There’s a strange urgency to the feeling–that first breath is almost gentle, a soft gust of wind, the tender brush of a familiar hand against a flushed cheek. But the next breath that comes is a desperate, coughing, almost choking thing as my lungs do their best to remember how to take in air. The breath after that is even more ragged, and I can feel my chest heaving over and over again as I go through the motions of taking in air and expelling it even more rapidly. How is this possible? I should be dead. I died. My eyes are still shut tight firmly, but I can feel fresh tears pooling from the corners. At first I assume they’re tears of pain–after all, throughout this whole ordeal, the dreadful pain that’s torn my body apart, I’ve become quite used to tears of pain. But it’s only as I think about pain that I realize I’m not hurting at all. It’s strange, t
Spencer’s POVThe gentle glow of red moonlight on my skin feels heavenly. I find myself letting out a quiet gasp as the soft rays wash over me. It shouldn’t be such a comforting sight to behold–after all, the moonbeams spilling from the sky like tears are a dark, vicious, fresh-from-the vein shade of blood red. After all the blood I’ve seen and smelled and tasted in this life, more blood should be just about the last thing I want to see. But something about this is different. Almost against my will, my eyes fall shut, suddenly too heavy to keep open for even a moment longer. My muscles fall limp, my body slack on the grass. As wicked as the red glow should be, I feel soothed. Put at ease. Like the universe is finally letting me rest. “What… what is this…” I murmur softly, the words drifting out on the cold night air. All around me, I can hear snippets of noise making their way in and out of my perception. More gasps of shock, of awe, of horror. The moon above is a deep blood red,
Spencer’s POV“I love you, I love you, I love you, please tell me you know just how much I love you—“I’m sprawled out on the ground, a wreck of a man. My body trembles hopelessly, shaking and shivering at the slightest breeze rippling across my skin. I feel cold—colder than I’ve ever felt in my life, the sort of all-encompassing cold that you feel in your chest and in your skin, the kind that feels like it’s stealing away right down to the bone. The cold is going to take me. It’s going to take over every last part of me. I’ve got one arm sprawled over Ivy, pulling her as close to me as she could ever hope to get anymore. I can feel her blood pooling through the already-bloodied fabric of my sleeve. She’s not actively bleeding anymore—that stopped when her heart gave out. But there’s so much blood left anyways. She’s dead. Ivy is dead, and that thought will haunt me all the way into my final moments, until I’m dead too. There’s something comforting about this, though. Knowing she’
Spencer’s POVI can’t find a pulse. My hands trace over Ivy’s pale throat, the blue veins visible and inflamed just beneath her skin. I press my fingers into the soft crook just beneath the left side of her neck and move them around frantically, searching desperately for any sign of life. Ivy’s heartbeat has become so familiar to me over time, almost like a part of me. An extension of myself. I’ve always been able to feel it. To know her in that intimate way, the rush of her blood. But now I’m met with complete and utter silence. It’s tearing me apart from the inside out, but I can’t find a pulse. Tears fall from my eyes in large droplets, and the lump in my throat feels like it’s choking me. The pain tearing through my body only grows as I continue to run my hands over her delicate pale skin. I want her to blink, to gasp, to shiver—anything, please, any sign that there’s still some trace of life left in Ivy’s body. But there’s nothing. “Ivy,” I say quietly, running my hands thr
Spencer’s POVAs I stare down into Elder Jet’s cold, uncaring eyes, I’m suddenly struck by an unbearable agony unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I let out a ragged, choking gasp as I sink to my knees. My hands clutch at my chest desperately in a feeble attempt to do anything to relieve the terrible pressure lurking there, but it’s no use. My vision blinks in and out of focus, and all the noise of the outside world is replaced with a dull ringing, a sharp twinge that seems to seep into every nook and cranny of my brain. “No!” I scream. The word is nonsensical and useless in the face of everything that I’ve been through, nothing more than a shout into the void, but I say it nonetheless, over and over again. “No, no, no—“It feels like I’m dying. It really and truly feels like I’m dying. This here, now, this sheer burning agony like countless razors have slipped under my skin, like everything I’ve ever known has been burnt to a crisp before my very eyes, this sensation that I am u
Spencer’s POVI think seeing Ivy like this is the worst thing I’ve ever seen. I approach her slowly, cautiously, the way one might approach a wounded animal. I’m scared of hurting Ivy even more than she’s already been hurt—I feel like if I were even to breathe on her too hard, she’d shatter into a million tiny pieces, just shards of glass splayed out on this battleground. I want to scoop her up into my arms and take her away into a better place, somewhere much safer than this, but would I be able to do anything at all to save her? Or would the simple movement of picking her up be enough to do her in?I did this.A wave of self-loathing hits me as I look Ivy over again. Her bloodstained clothes, her ghastly pale face, her ragged, hollow breaths. She’s the picture of near-death, if she’s not already dead. Every so often her eyes flicker open, and I want to believe she’ll be okay, but I know it’s a lie. All of this is my fault. I did this to Ivy. Despite all my attempts, all the measur
Ivy's POVWhen I see Elder Jet rise up behind Spencer, claws poised for a deadly attack, it feels as though the entire world freezes. My breaths, already crackling and ragged and drenched with blood in my failing lungs, seem to stop. I’m aware of my heartbeat as a dull pulsing in my eardrums, but it suddenly slows, a distant ringing in the back of my mind. The pain wracking my body for all of its fiery hot intensity seems to shrink itself down into a tiny parcel. All at once, Spencer is the singular focus of my world. I can feel the panic surging through me. What do I do? What can I do? I can’t say anything—if I opened my mouth, blood would pour out in thick rivulets, and I feel like I’ve swallowed a great many shards of broken glass. My vocal chords are damn near torn. I know I’d just rasp, a gasping sound that would only intensify the weight of Spencer’s focus on me, and Elder Jet’s attack would land true. ‘Think,’ Venetia says softly in my mind, a gentle urge. ‘This is it, Ivy.
Ivy's POVI think I can feel my last breaths rattling in my chest. I don’t know how much longer I have left at all. I thought I’d be long gone by this point, if we’re being really honest. I feel like I’m mostly gone—my vision has gone completely, since I no longer have the energy to keep my eyes open, and I can barely breathe at all. My heartbeat feels like it could stop any moment. I’m aware of the pain wracking my body, that red-hot agony tearing me apart. It sizzles and simmers on my skin. It feels like it’s tearing me apart. But at the same time, I can’t feel anything at all. I know there are things I should be feeling. Grass beneath my body, maybe. The blood that’s seeped into the soil. The grime and metal residue on my skin from having been locked in that cage. I can picture all of these things, in a vague, spun-out way. I can remember what they'd be like. I can simulate the feeling. It’s not the same as actually experiencing it, though. ‘Please, Ivy, try to hold on,’ Venet