Ivy's POVEvery eye outside the pack house is locked onto Prince Spencer, breaths held in anticipation of his next move. Alpha Jameson grips me tighter, squeezing at my neck so hard my breath comes in strangled gasps. I can feel the tense fear in his stance. He’s well aware of the lines he crossed, the point of no return. He’s gone too far, and he knows it. No one has any idea what Spencer is about to do next. Standing a couple dozen meters away from Alpha Jameson and I, Spencer’s silhouette seems to melt into the night as though he’s made completely of shadows. His eyes pierce the darkness like blades, expression cold and inscrutable. With blood on his hands and that horrifying steely glint to his eye, he looks well deserving of his title as the God of Death. Everyone here should be afraid of what’s to come. “Ha!” Suddenly, Spencer lets out a disdainful laugh. Alpha Jameson jolts at the sound. His hand starts to tremble ever so slightly on my neck. As happy as I am to see Alp
Ivy's POVElder Jet quickly ducks behind Alpha Leo and several other werewolves like the coward he is. Still standing near Alpha Jameson, I follow Elder Jet’s movements with my eyes, bracing myself for whatever his next move is. Alpha Jameson–as I've already been able to ascertain–may be burly, but he also seems like something of an idiot. Elder Jet isn’t so dim-witted, though, and I’m afraid of what his retaliation may look like. He fixes his shrewd gaze on Spencer, eyeing him with caution. I can almost hear the gears whirring in his mind as he plots out his next angle, some other way to make Spencer look like the villain even as his own warriors threaten the very life of his mate. Suddenly, his eyes gleam with a menacing light. My stomach twists. “Prince Spencer showed our warriors that very same disdain the day he killed them!” Elder Jet shouts, cupping his palms around his mouth to project his voice. He speaks with the passion and fury of a luminary, but I can tell he doesn’
Ivy's POVAll I can do is watch helplessly as the werewolf warriors begin to shift. Their muscles swell rapidly, thick bands of sinew contorting unnaturally underneath their clothes and armor. As the werewolves shift into their wolf forms–now a horrifying mass of twisted muscle and matted fur–they expand to nearly the size of Lycans. The chilling sound of bones twisting and grinding fills the air as their skeletons grow to accommodate their newly bulked-up bodies. As I watch the transformations, fear flooding my body, scenes of the werewolves who’d chased me and Princess Sylvia earlier flash through my mind. I remember their mindless bloodlust, their utter lack of any reason or logic. I understand now that while these werewolves may gain immense strength under the influence of the potions, they pay a steep price: their sanity. The red potions aren’t any sort of so-called secret weapon. They’re a poison that will ultimately destroy any werewolf who consumes them from the inside out
Ivy's POVBy the time I look back at where I’d just been standing, Spencer has already been surrounded by werewolves. He’s locked in fierce, chaotic battle. Screams and howls flood my ears inescapably, and my nose fills with the bitter iron tang of blood. As I watch Spencer fight, though, my gaze suddenly drifts to the golden pillar, where Alpha Jameson is slowly struggling to his feet. Alpha Jameson looks like he’s in terrible shape–blood leaks freely from his mouth, and his jaw is bruised and clearly broken. The pain in his expression is both horrifying to see and impossible to miss. His eyes are dazed, suggesting a concussion, and the limb with which he walks makes me think he’s broken quite a few bones. His gaze fixates on Spencer, and I can see the burning loathing he’s harboring. He seems to be muttering something under his breath–curling swears and curses at Spencer, no doubt. He seems hell-bent on a revenge so vicious it makes my stomach churn. Suddenly, Alpha Jameson’s ga
Ivy's POVI’m shocked to learn that someone as reckless and shameless as Alpha Jameson could have such a tragic past. But I also don’t believe that Spencer or anyone else in the Lycan Royal Family would betray their allies. While certain parts of his story ring true–I certainly don’t doubt that his parents were killed–the rest of the narrative seems highly implausible, especially the Lycan Royal Family’s involvement. And considering all the despicable lies Elder Jet has told so far…Well, his words can’t be trusted. I have a feeling that, like Alpha Leo, Alpha Jameson has been led terribly, terribly astray. “You’re lying, Jameson,” Gamma Everly cuts in sharply. There’s a bitterness to her expression as she looks at Alpha Jameson that I can’t quite place. “The Lycan Prince wouldn’t betray his allies. And you know that Elder Jet has spent his entire life trying to stir up conflict between the Lycan Royal Family and the werewolves–are you really going to let Elder Jet manipulate you?”
Ivy's POVIn just a split second, Alpha Jameson shifts into a monster. The transformation is uncannily quick this time–in a surge of muscle and flesh, all of a sudden a massive brown wolf stands before me with blood dripping from his fangs and murder in his endless eyes. Alpha Jameson shakes his head back and forth, clearly adjusting to his new, well-muscled form, and a chill runs down my spine when I see the ease with which he’s moving. It’s as though the red potion has cured all his injuries. Or–that’s not quite right. Looking at him a little more closely, I can still see the evidence of Alpha Jameson’s wounds, except they don’t seem to be hindering him anymore. The potions, full of power as they are, must have somehow numbed his pain. Alpha Jameson stands before me. I tremble, taking an involuntary step forward. His massive body is even larger than Gamma Everly’s. He throws his head back and roars, releasing a thunderous howl that echoes all his pent-up fury. I feel stunned b
Ivy's POVAlpha Leo looks shocked to find me sprinting through the middle of the battlefield. His gaze fixes onto me, lips pursed in confusion. He’s looking at me like a question he doesn’t quite know how to answer. I can tell that he’s weighing his options, and whatever he’s deciding seems to be quite the tough choice. Hoping I can slip past him before he makes up his mind, I do my best to step around him, but he quickly mirrors my motion, blocking me off. My heart sinks. But deep down, Alpha Leo seems like a kind soul. Maybe all hope isn’t lost. After all, he hasn’t tried to grab me yet. “Leo, please,” I beg. My instincts are telling me that Alpha Leo isn’t a cruel person–on the contrary, he seems to be upright and kind-hearted, just led astray but Elder Jet’s scheming. But even in the middle of combat, I can see those glimmers of a good person shining through the battle-hardened rebel personal Elder Jet has forced onto him from what I assume was quite a young age. At this po
Ivy's POVAlpha Jameson charges at me with his fangs bared and his claws extended. My adrenaline kicks in, acting for me. I draw in quick, labored breaths as I scan everything in my vicinity. Moving faster than I ever thought I could, I quickly slip into a gap to my right that was created by a fallen stone slab that must’ve been knocked over at some point earlier during the battle. Shards of marble dig into my skin, drawing tiny pinpricks of blood. As my sweat drips into the wounds, they begin to sting even more fiercely. Inside the crack in the stone, I can feel rough marble edges pressing into me. The gap is just big enough to fit me, but will no doubt be too small for any wolf to get into–let alone Alpha Jameson or any of the other potion-jacked werewolves outside. Still, though, the stone walls are fragile, and no doubt they’ll be able to find their way inside sooner or later. For now, though, I’m safe.Even if it’s temporary. Alone in the darkness, I rock back and forth, trem
Ivy’s POV“Are you ready?” I whisper the question to Spencer as we stand behind a huge set of double doors. I’ve known him as the Lycan King for several weeks now, and been referred to as the Lycan Queen since our wedding, but today is the day it becomes official. Today is the day of the coronation. And I couldn’t be more excited. Every citizen of the Lycan Kingdom physically able to be in attendance is seated just beyond those double doors, dressed in their finest attire. I can hear the waning sounds of the band playing our anthem triumphantly, can hear the heavy steel-toed footfalls of our military as they carry out their grand display. It’s a show of strength and endurance–everything about today has been structured to portray power and confidence, from the massive outdoor ceremony in the palace’s courtyard to the full military regalia on display. “Ready as ever,” Spencer replies. “This is what I was born to, after all.” There’s a firm set to his jaw and iron in his posture. E
Spencer’s POV“Congratulations, Colin!” My mother is the first one to acknowledge the news, smiling gleefully as she looks towards her son and his fiancée. Now that their secret is out, Delilah is positively beaming as she slips the engagement ring out of her pocket and onto her finger, waving her hand back and forth. I chuckle lowly as the happy couple kisses tenderly. I just know they’re going to have the most unnecessarily extravagant wedding possible, and they’re going to adore every second of it. “I’m telling you, they’re only together because Delilah and I were engaged,” I murmur to Ivy out of the corner of my mouth. She rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning. “If you say so, Spencer.” “Must be something in the air,” Sylvia remarks. “I heard Gamma Everly and Captain Leo got engaged, too!” At that news, I smile genuinely. After all the heartbreak she’s endured over the years, I’m glad Gamma Everly has finally found a man who can match her. It seems that my wedding to Ivy was on
Spencer’s POVIt’s been a couple days since I returned from the Sunclash pack and Ivy began recovering from the plague, and things have finally had a chance to settle into a routine. Beta Wilson and Doctor Danbury have been working restlessly to distribute the antidote to those in need far and wide. We’ve eradicated it completely from the Lycan kingdom and have almost finished scrubbing it from the outer packs. All of Elder Jet’s rebels have been placed in our custody, with trials pending. Based on the reports from other packs as well as the newly-formed Werewolf Council, it seems as though Elder Jet’s toxic ideology has been defeated for good. We still have lots to do to repair our relationship with the werewolves, of course, but we’re in a good place to begin that work. And as soon as Ivy returns to her full strength, I’m excited for us to begin that work together. I set down the last stack of papers on my desk and push open the door to my office, wandering back into the main bo
Ivy’s POV“What is it?” Those are the last words I hear, spoken in Spencer’s soothing, familiar voice, before I slip into an uneasy half-sleep. I can feel blankets being shifted and jostled around me, the vibrations from wheels being rolled across a bumpy floor. But my mind is distant, dreaming. I see fire. Magic. Blood. Frantic voices cry out, but there’s someone else, promising that I’m stable–just exhausted. My body is lifted up from the uncomfortable mattress and laid down somewhere much more soft and padded. There, finally, as the terrible burning recedes from my skin, I’m able to fall into a quiet, restful sleep. I’m not sure how much time passes before I finally come to. As my eyes plink open slowly, blearily, the first thing I see is Spencer sitting at the edge of my bed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Good morning, Sleepyhead,” he says softly. I let out a quiet chuckle. “What time is it actually?” I groan, dragging a hand down my face. Suddenly I realize that everythin
Spencer’s POVAs I push past the double doors and into the hospital’s foyer, I’m struck by the absolute chaos everywhere. There are patients being pushed and shuffled in every direction, and the entire hospital staff looks criminally overworked, worry lines and downcast expressions almost completely hidden behind thick airtight filters. I realize the yellow suits all the staff are wearing match the protective suits Doctor Danbury gave us when we were investigating the Sunclash pack. And if everyone is in plague equipment now…I can only hope we’ll have enough of the antidote to deal with all the infected. That’s an issue for later, though. Right now, my focus is solely on Ivy. “Where’s the queen?” I shout, looking around the foyer frantically. A nurse rushes over towards me hurriedly, gaze darting back and forth. “She–she’s in the quarantine wing, Your Majesty,” the nurse says. “Quite a few patients are, unfortunately. Before I can take you there, I’m going to have to ask you to
Spencer’s POVAs soon as I pass the threshold of the Lycan Kingdom, I hear a frantic message from Captain Leo echoing in my mind. ‘–and they’re here!’ Comes the call, which has surely been repeating over and over again for ages now, if I’m hearing it as soon as I’m able. Captain Leo’s voice is frantic and desperate. ‘Please, Your Majesty, we have to get this under control. We need you here.’ I grit my teeth and keep my gaze peeled on the road ahead. We’re on our way to the palace now, to deliver the antidote to Ivy and whoever else may need it, but we’re still a matter of minutes away at least. ‘We’re in the kingdom now,’ I assure him. ‘Who’s here?’‘The rest of Elder Jet’s rebels, Your Majesty. It seems they were waiting for you to leave.’ I scowl in displeasure as I watch the scenery continue to blur around us. Of course that was the witch’s final plan, coward that she was. To poison my wife and lure me out to the middle of nowhere knowing how desperate I’d be to cure her… It’s
Ivy’s POVAs I lay in the quarantine room, I can feel the growing sickness continuing to spread through my body. Alongside all the typical postpartum symptoms, which would be horrendous enough on their own, the burning is horrible in its unrelentingness. The pain meds feel more like an empty consolation than anything else now. I’m more fatigued than I’ve ever felt before, but I can’t bring myself to fall asleep, because the agony simmering just beneath my skin is impossible to ignore. Am I being punished for something? ‘What am I going to do?’ I ask Venetia hopelessly. There’s no one else to talk to but her. ‘You’ll pull through,’ Venetia assures me, though I can hear the reluctance in her tone. ‘You heard the rumours–Spencer is out there right now, searching desperately for a cure! He loves you. He’s not going to let you die. You matter too much to him.’ I chuckle bitterly. ‘At a certain point, it doesn’t matter how much he doesn’t want me to die. I’ll die or I won’t.’ Venetia
Spencer’s POVAs my claws tear through the ice-cold flesh of the witch’s body, a bloodcurdling scream suddenly pierces the air. With a fierce cry, the witch tries to wrench herself from my grasp, but she only succeeds in dragging her body along my claws, worsening her own injuries. Blood splatters on the ground and onto my paws. It doesn’t feel like blood normally does, though–it’s cold like freshwater and feels oddly slick, almost oily. I pull my lips back over my teeth and growl viciously, searching for the witch’s neck in this darkness. “You beast!” The witch wails like a banshee. I can see her eyes glinting reflectively like a cat’s in the darkness. As we hit the ground, one of her antlers breaks and falls off. “Do you have any idea how powerful I am? You don’t have the faintest whisper of a chance against me, you brute–” I curl my claws inward, deepening the wounds further, and the witch lets out another ragged scream. Suddenly, the darkness in the room all seems to slither t
Spencer’s POV“Run!” My warning to Alpha Fierro echoes through the darkened office seemingly unheard. As the shadows continue to creep around my field of vision, obscuring everything from view, my heart thuds in my chest. Never before had I been scared of an enemy until encountering the witch. I shift fluidly into my wolf form, powerful arms and legs rippling with muscles, fangs and teeth sharp as daggers. My growl is a low, warning rumble in the base of my throat. Despite my heightened sentences as I continue to peer ahead, ears trained to detect the slightest sense of movement, I still have no idea where the witch is. “Reveal yourself, coward!” I shout, my voice echoing through the room. “You betray your honour by slinking around in the shadows.” The witch’s laugh, low and melodious, fills the air. There’s a haunting coldness to it. “Honour is a werewolf construct,” she says. “And it’s so unlike a proud, foolish warrior to consider it a cowardly action to win a battle with intel