Ivy's POVI’ve never been more grateful for Beta Wilson’s presence than I am at this moment. I allow myself to lean on Beta Wilson as I regain my bearings. My back is still bleeding, and the muscles in my legs and stomach burn in agony, worn and overworked. My joints ache and creak. I breathe in and out slowly, trying to sort myself out. Something about seeing me in his arms causes Princess Sylvia’s facade to slip entirely. She fixes Beta Wilson and I with a look of profound hatred, and I quickly realize what this is all about. Princess Sylvia is jealous of me. Her reasoning is absolutely ridiculous, of course. I certainly have no intentions of stealing Beta Wilson away from her, and he doesn’t seem to have any feelings for me. We could be friends, maybe, but certainly not lovers. There’s nothing between us–my heart belongs to Spencer. I just wish Sylvia would stop taking out all her frustrations on me. “What are you doing, Sylvia?” Beta Wilson asks with a disappointed shake of
Ivy's POVBeta Wilson looks utterly heartbroken as he leads us away from Princess Sylvia’s chambers. “Let’s go to the garden,” he suggests quietly, moving quickly through the hallways. “I need to… I need to clear my head.”I nod in agreement, allowing him to guide the two of us to the palace gardens. As we step into the lush mazes of roses and lilies, past terraces dripping with wisteria and fountains sending gorgeous arcs of water into the sky, a strange sort of calm seems to settle over both of us. We walk between archways and fruit trees laden heavily with fruit for a bit, but soon, the muscles in my legs start to protest. Still sore from everything the maids and Princess Sylvia put me through, I take a seat on a stone bench beneath an orange tree. The sweet scent of citrus envelops us. “Beta Wilson,” I say carefully, “Can I ask you something… direct?”“Go right ahead,” he replies with a defeated sigh. “Do you love Princess Sylvia?”Beta Wilson’s mouth falls open in shock, expr
Spencer's POVThe two rebel packs aren’t too far from each other. Which makes them a fearsome foe, perhaps, but also makes for light travel. Gamma Everly and I, along with the rest of the warriors, stop our travels about ten kilometers from the first pack’s border. “We’ll camp here!” I call out to my warriors, surveying the landscape. We’re at the base of a small hill–not so tall the rebels would get the upper hand on us if they attacked, but tall enough to block us from being immediately detected. The woods nearby are lush with life and should provide easy hunting so we can travel light without having to worry too much about rations. Judging by the current angle of the wind, the smoke from our fires shouldn’t drift towards the rebel pack. All in all, it’s the perfect place to begin our siege. “Prepare for a lengthy campaign, men,” I say, gaze sweeping across our makeshift campsite already beginning construction. “This area will serve as our base for rest and training. We’ll dra
Spencer's POVI find Gamma Everly in the middle of the camp, surrounded by a swarm of warriors. “Make way,” I commanded immediately, pushing through the crowd. As I approach her, I can’t see any visible injuries, but her expression is one of profound shock. I narrow my eyes, examining Gamma Everly a bit more closely. Shock is exceptionally unusual for her–the more I look at her, the more I realize I’ve never seen her look this rattled before. I’ve fought alongside her countless times, and haven’t seen her usual calm, wise, put-together attitude slip once. But Gamma Everly looks shaken to her very core. An underlying pressure seems to be seeping into the camp. This time, our enemy may be more formidable than anything we’ve faced before. “Are you alright?” I ask Gamma Everly softly. She nods once. “May I speak privately with you, Your Highness?”“Of course.” Gamma Everly brushes herself off once, as though trying to rid herself of the memories of everything she’s seen, before st
Ivy's POV“I’ve scheduled you for a medical checkup!”I look up at Princess Sylvia in annoyance as she storms into my chambers, arms crossed impatiently over her chest. She stares down at me as though waiting for something. “Who let you in here?” I mutter, stretching out slowly on the loveseat. “A maid. I’m the Lycan Princess, remember? I go where I want,” the princess boasts, tapping her foot impatiently. “Now get moving.” “Which room is it in?” I ask, standing up. “I can head there myself when it’s time.”Princess Sylvia grins. “Oh, it’s not in the palace.”My stomach falls. “I… don’t know, Your Highness,” I say carefully, sitting back down. “My wounds aren’t all that bad, and the medicine has been working. I don’t need a checkup.”The princess scoffs. “It’s not for your wounds. Since you’re Spencer’s mate and potentially the bearer of his heir, it’s crucial that you’re in good health. But because you don’t have a wolf, and Moon Goddess knows what else is wrong with you, it’s im
Ivy's POV“No one is coming to rescue you.”The princess is right, is the worst part. I agree with Princess Sylvia completely: no one will be able to rescue me. But that doesn’t mean I can’t rescue myself. My chances may be positively abysmal. I don’t have an inner wolf anymore, and I’m not particularly skilled in combat, but I’d certai\nl\y p]ucked -up at few tricks from my father over the years. I’m not about to let Princess Sylvia’s scheme succeed without putting up a fight. I won’t give up easily. I have to try. I curl my hands into fists as I climb to my feet, staring the princess in the eyes. As I’m still figuring out potential ways to escape, though, a massive black SUV rams into the car in front of us, taking the maids with it. Princess Sylvia and I leap back in shock, looking up at the huge vehicle in shock. Wordlessly, we duck into a cluster of bushes at the base of the mountain. A silent understanding passes between us: we’ll go back to dealing with our problems aft
Ivy's POV“Follow me!”Princess Sylvia’s voice crackles through the woods like a gunshot as she roars the words at me. She flees quickly into the nearby treeline with perfect grace and impossible swiftness, leaving me following her close behind. I can hear the heavy footsteps of the attacking werewolves as they chase after us, crushing twigs and leaves underfoot. They whoop and holler and roar as they pursue us, acting like they own these woods. Clearly, they’re not worried about anyone else being able to detect us. Where are we?I’m not sure how long we run before my stamina begins to wane. My muscles burn, and my lungs are screaming for a break. Every inch of my body is wracked with excruciating pain and exhaustion. My heart feels like it’s about to beat out of my chest. My steps start to slow, and I find myself lagging behind the princess. “Hurry up!” Princess Sylvia hisses at me, rounding a sharp bend and pulling us into a dense patch of trees. “I… I can’t…” I trail off and st
Ivy's POVAt first, Princess Sylvia’s Lycan Aura seems to be working. But it’s not long before the cracks begin to show themselves. Slowly, shakily, the werewolves all reach into an inner coat pocket and pull out small red vials. I don’t know what they are, but just seeing them makes me feel uneasy. “What’s happening?” I whisper to Princess Sylvia, but she’s too distracted by maintaining the power of her Lycan Aura to answer me. Princess Sylvia glares at the werewolves, face gone red as she continues to hold up the aura. The burly werewolves all down their red potions simultaneously, one of them looking up at me and winking. My stomach curdles. Princess Sylvia’s hold on them slips away suddenly, and they climb back up to their feet without hesitation, something wicked and corrupted glinting in their eyes. The werewolves all turn their muzzles up to the sky, suddenly howling up into the air like madmen. Their powerful roars fill the woods as their bodies begin to swell and conto
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
Spencer’s POVAs I rise to my feet, I can feel the full effects of the Moon Goddess’s blessing, and I feel much better than I’ve felt in a long time. It’s odd–ever since this whole fiasco with Elder Jet began, I’ve felt myself constantly on edge. There's been a strange underlying tension to my life. Everything I’ve done in my mad scramble to protect Ivy, every bad decision, every misguided sacrifice I’ve done… All my actions, whether they were right or now, were the result of trying to dodge invisible looming threats. The threat isn’t invisible anymore, though–now, it’s everywhere I look. But there’s a sense of relief to that. I can tell that Elder Jet is finally giving his all now. He’s played every last card he has left to play. And as scary as that may be, considering the magnitude of the threat I’m up against now, I can also feel my resolve building. This is it. The end of the line. The final surge. If we can defeat Elder Jet now, we’ll never have to deal with him or any of h
Spencer’s POVThe battlefield is erupting into chaos all around me, but right now, all I can think about is how beautiful Ivy is. Thanks to the Moon Goddess’s blessing, she seems to be glowing now. There’s a light in her eyes, a fire that’s been ignited deep in her soul. I can sense the strength radiating through her. All her glory, all her grace, all her willingness to fight…I know what Ivy is capable of now, and I’m never going to underestimate her again. “How do we want to do this?” Ivy asks. Her gaze continues to dart around the battlefield frantically, and I can tell that she’s sizing everything up, trying to figure out the best way for our forces to win. I feel an odd sensation of pride, knowing that Ivy is now able to navigate this scene with tact and poise. I trust her instincts. I purse my lips, watching yet another one of my Lycan warriors get picked out by the group of potion-enhanced werewolf rebels. He puts up a fierce fight, but it’s too many opponents for him to fe
Ivy’s POVAs the last beautiful sliver of that eerie red moon vanishes behind the clouds, I suddenly become aware of the eerie silence that’s overtaken the entire battlefield. I look around slowly and am shocked by the sight before me. My lips are still tingling with warmth from the feeling of Spencer’s kiss, but my focus has shifted to the unsettling quiet of the battlefield. Everywhere I look, the combat has seemed to cease. Lycan warriors and rebels alike have gone still, gazes all fixed upon the sky with expressions of profound shock and wonderment. I can understand the sentiment–the blood red moon has been a wonderful thing to behold indeed. But enough to stop an entire battle? I squeeze Spencer’s hand to get his attention. “They’ve all stopped fighting,” I murmur to him. “What’s going on?” “I don’t know,” he replies. Spencer seems every bit as puzzled as I am, gaze flitting around the battlefield restlessly. I follow his focus, though it’s hard for me to dwell on the sight
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