*Maddox*I walk ahead of the stretcher carrying Isla and try not to pull my fur out. If I had thumbs, I might’ve already pulled out enough fur around my forehead that I’d look bald.Images of a wolf with a receding hairline come to mind, and I almost laugh. But nothing is that funny right now.What the actual fuck was she thinking?I already know the answer to that question.As much as I want to blame Isla for all of this, it’s my fault. She left because I was rude and dismissive. She left because she was upset with me. What else could it possibly be? She hasn’t been feeling well, and I didn’t even check on her today while I was gone to look for the missing kidnappers.The castle comes into view ahead of me, and I’m glad to see it. I’m not as energetic as I was before, so I don’t leap over the fence in a single bound. Instead, I call ahead, and the side gates are open when we get there. Using the mind-link, I call for a servant to open the door for me as well, and I trot down the hall
*Maddox*I stare at Isla in bewilderment, not sure what to say to her. I should probably be down in the dungeon trying to break Alpha Jordan, trying to figure out where the hell his fucking daughter is hiding, but I came here because I wanted to talk to Isla to make sure she was all right.Apparently, she is not.Sighing I walk over to her bed and sit down next to her, my hip near her knee. “What do you mean?” I ask her. “Replaced… by who?”She runs a hand through her hair, blonde curls tangling around her fingers, before she grimaces and untangles herself. She likely forgot about the cut on her head. “I don’t think I need to tell you,” she says, folding her hand in her lap. Her eyes are wide as she looks up at me.Puzzled, I stare at her for a long time, trying to figure out what the hell she is talking about. Why is she mad at me exactly? I expected her to shout at me for being cross with her about the office. I don’t think I’ve done anything else.“What?” I shake my head. “Replaced
*Isla*I’m underwater again.This time isn’t like the last time, though. I know immediately that things are different.This time, I’m more angry than I am afraid, but I don’t feel the same pressure that I did last time either. I feel like I am storming off, running away, riding my white horse off into the sunset….But I also feel like it probably shouldn’t be a white horse. I know I’ve done awful things, and I know that I’ve screwed everything up. I’m not the hero in this story….I’m the villain.Normally, I’m okay with that. I don’t mind being the one who stirs up all of the trouble. But in the back of my mind, I can’t help thinking about what might’ve happened if my plans hadn’t gone awry. Perhaps I should’ve listened to my father and not messed with the situation so entirely.None of that matters now. Dad drowned. Mom fled the moment she found out what I was up to. I am pretty sure that Wylie is pulverized, and I have no fucking idea where the driver is.It’s just me now.Me… and m
*Maddox*Isla’s scent permeates every breath as I gain my bearings, doing my best to wake my sleeping mind. I have a vague recollection of talking to her earlier this morning, before I was fully awake.She’d given me some startling information, something I needed to look into today, though I’m not exactly sure what it was now….It’ll come back to me later.For now, my hand is resting on her soft, warm breast, and with her intoxicating scent rolling around me, I can’t help but keep the hardness I’ve awoken with growing in length.The recollection that she is injured comes to my mind, and I know I should leave her be. She hit her hard pretty hard yesterday, and she has a wounded shoulder, but her nipple is hardening beneath my palm, and I can’t seem to pull my hand away.Groggily, she says, “Maddox? What are you doing?” But her voice is sultry, not at all perturbed that I’ve awoken her by massaging her breast.“I’m kissing your neck,” I tell her as I do just that. My mouth sinks into th
*Isla*When I awake again, after Maddox left to go do whatever he was going to do to check to see if my dream was real, it’s to the sound of someone moving in my room. It seems like whoever it is is trying to be quiet, but when something makes a loud clatter, and I hear Beta Seth swear under his breath, it’s obvious who it is.“What’s going on?” I ask, groggily. I roll over, pulling the blanket up around me, and look at him.“Oh, I’m so sorry, Isla. I am just… King Maddox wanted me to put a phone in your room so that you can call your parents and they can call you whenever you want. But the phone jack is behind the bed, and getting to it is being a pain in the a–butt.” He stops himself short of swearing in front of me, like I am some sort of a delicate flower.“Thanks, Beta Seth,” I say to him, smiling at his kindness. “Is there anything that I can do to help?”“No, no, I’ve got it.” He grunts a little as he strains and stretches behind the bed for a second and then sighs with a succ
*Isla*“Can I come in?”I stare at the girl, not quite sure what to say. I’m taken aback that she’s even here. What in the world could she possibly have to say to me?And yet, it’s very difficult for me to tell her to leave. She looks so sad, standing there in the doorway, her bulging stomach protruding in front of her.“Of course,” I say, gesturing for her to come over to the sitting area where I have a couple of comfortable chairs in front of the window.We both sit, and I readjust my skirt several times, not sure what to say or do. Part of me wants Poppy to come in and say she has my breakfast, so I can at least have an excuse not to be able to talk. If my mouth is full of eggs, I won’t have to say anything to this doe-eyed girl who is looking at me like she thinks I have all of the answers to whatever ails her.“I’m… Isla,” I say to her, and she nods. I have to assume she already knows that, but since no one is saying anything, I thought it might be a good way to start the convers
*Maddox*Blood coats the floor in the entryway. I could see it before I even kicked in the door. My warriors, still in their human form, join me as I walk into the house.The body of a young maid, legs prone, arms over her face, is positioned off to the side of the door. This blood is hers. She has bite marks and deep scratches from claws on her chest, neck, and face. I can see that from here, but when I step closer to her and roll her over, I notice that the blood is coagulated. She has been laying here for a while. I’m no medical expert, but I’m guessing it’s been a few hours.I have seen my fair share of bodies on the battlefield from warriors who have died early in the fight, ones we gathered much later, and the blood is similar.Her cold, empty, green eyes stare up at me. I close them for her, careful not to step in the blood as I walk away.“Be careful,” I tell the men with me. “This is a crime scene.”A whiff of the air tells me that this isn’t the only body we are going to fin
*Isla*“So she just waltzed right into your room, had a seat, and proceeded to ask you how to get with your man?” Poppy asks me as I stare at a plate of food I’m probably not going to eat much of. My stomach is still churning, and I don’t know if it’s because of the odd conversation I had with Sydney or if it’s something else.“Not exactly,” I tell Poppy because I don’t want her to think I didn’t tell Sydney she could come in. And she didn’t exactly ask me how to get with Maddox… well, maybe sort of. “She just thought I was a professional breeder or something. She was looking for advice.”“But… what about her current baby? Can you imagine her just hauling that kid around from one Alpha to the next while she tries to get knocked up again? And then she’ll do what? Leave a long trail of babies behind her?” Poppy shakes her head and sits down at the table with me, as if she is my friend, not my maid. She is my friend and my maid, but it seems so strange that she’s just sitting across from
AvivaSilverhide is in absolute chaos. I race toward the packhouse, still wearing pajamas, of course, but yielding my gilded bow, sending my arrow flying toward the molted beast trying to get inside. Claw marks mar the door–vicious and wide–and the beast, once a wolf, I believe, but now sporting four rows of massive, sharp teeth and multiple eyes, thrusts its entire weight against the door, causing the wall around it to splinter on impact. My arrow pierces the small of its pack through and through before whizzing back to me. I catch it, prime my bow, and send it flying again. This hellhound… it’s fresh. There’s nothing old and tired about it. Magic pours off its body, and blood stains its mouth and claws. People are screaming inside the packhouse. People–mostly women and children–who’d been enjoying their breakfast before this creature came over the valley to rain terror on my pack. If I’d left the packhouse only a few minutes earlier, I would have known why Ryan and Evander weren
MistyI snatch Addy from Kenna’s arms and break into a sprint, Aviva hot on my heels. Kenna’s voice behind us, calling out to her kids, fades as I burst through the doors of the packhouse and race across the village. The healer’s cottage rises ahead, but my lungs are burning when I finally reach the front door, which is ajar, and shove my way inside. The smell of herbs and spices hangs in the air… but that’s it. The cottage is totally empty. “Hello?” I shout, clutching Addy for dear life as dread overwhelms my senses. “Cole?!”Aviva skids to a stop behind me, panting. “Where are the guys?”“I have no idea,” I tell her, scanning the room. There’s a single door along the wall, tucked between two ceiling height bookshelves full of jars and small wooden boxes likely filled with more herbs. Aviva hisses in frustration and turns for the door, murmuring something about finding Ryan and Evander, and leaves me in the cottage alone. I step toward the worktable, noticing the fine coating of
MistyCole moves through our little kitchen in a hurry. He practically jumped out of bed this morning, grunting and bumping into the dresser and the doorframe in his haste to get dressed. It’s not even light yet, and the usual dense morning fog that swirls through the village hasn’t yet lifted, but Cole is making so much noise that Addy wakes up in a fuss, his little face twisted as he begins to wail in my arms. I’ve been up with him for an hour now, at least. Cole, who’s been amazing with divvying up the nighttime wakings so we each get a few hours of sleep, didn’t even stir. In fact, when I rose from bed to take Addy out of his crib, Cole rolled over and covered his head with his pillow. I shouldn’t be angry, but I am. He acted strange all night–distant, and quiet. More quiet than usual, I should say. It was like he was in a trance, and after an hour of trying to talk to him when he returned from dinner at the packhouse, he’d simply laid down in bed and passed out cold. I hate t
AvivaI barely slept that night. Actually, I didn’t sleep at all. I paced the living wishing for the first time since Lexa was born that she’d stop sleeping through the night to give me something to focus on other than the fact Logan saw two white wolves. Sure, some wolves have white fur. Like Sarah, for one. Misty, too, is a pale gold, but neither of them have sightless, silver eyes. Another chill snakes up my spine as I pace across the living room again, rubbing my eyes. I did my best to convince Logan he’d seen some of our pack members, but I know without a shadow of a doubt that’s not the case. The last time I saw two white wolves was before the war, and I now consider them a warning. A warning of things to come, of trials coming my way, of the threat of death. Part of me hopes it was just Maddox and Isla paying us a visit, but the creeping sensation in my chest makes me think otherwise. I don’t have powers. I don’t have visions. But I see these fuckers when no one else can…
AvivaTo say I’m relieved to be home is an understatement. Our group is greeted with enthusiasm, especially after it’s revealed that we snagged enough deer and elk to see us through nearly the entire winter, and a huge banquet is held in celebration. Notably absent from the dinner is Misty. Lexa sleeps peacefully in my lap while my gaze drifts across the packhouse. I sweep past Ryan to a new face in the crowd. Well, not entirely new, but new to the dinner held here every night. Kyra, wearing a dark green cloak, stands close enough to Cole that I feel a sudden jolt of unease as she reaches into her cloak and pulls out a vial, pressing it into his hands. Cole nods in thanks, but the line between his brows is evident. He looks like he’s in pain as he turns away from her, his skin slightly pale and eyes watering enough that I feel myself rising from the bench in an effort to walk over and ask what’s wrong, but then he turns back to the conversation he was having with a group of men an
MistyCole groans against my neck as I reach between, running my hand down his chest to the deep V of the muscles of his waist. He kisses me again, hungerly this time, his tongue sweeping over mine in a slow dance that has sparkles of pleasure rippling over my skin. I sigh against his mouth as he grinds his hips against mine, rocking us back and forth, his hands drifting down my sides and settling on my ass with a squeeze. He slides his hand beneath my shirt, revealing how naked I already am. “I didn’t bring any pajamas,” I admit, my voice pitched with excitement as he smiles against my lips. There’s no panties in his way tonight. A dull, throbbing ache radiates through my lower belly. My inner folds are already slick as he drags his fingers through them, lowering his head against my shoulder and trembling with anticipation. “Fuck, Misty, you’re soaking wet.”I close my eyes and arch when he presses two fingers inside of me, his thumb stroking slow, teasing circles over my clit. I
Misty“Aviva, stop!” I shout as she begins to turn toward the woods, her bow raised and arrow primed and ready. My powers ignite, stronger than they’ve ever been, and explode through the clearing in bright, blue light that sizzles into the ground. I swear, somewhere deep in the swirling, blue ether, I hear what sounds like a lock clicking–like I’ve just jammed a key into a padlock and wrenched on it until it turned–and then the ground shakes violently, a crushing, grinding sound beginning to echo through the clearing. Red eyes appear near the tree line–three sets–barreling toward us. Aviva roars as she pulls back on her arrow again, but then she… disappears with a surprised scream. “Aviva?!” I shout, then choke on her name as the ground beneath me falls away. My powers burn out. I’m falling through the darkness, reaching blindly for anything to grab onto. Something beneath me hits the ground with a crunch, and then I’m landing on top of the object, which turns out to be Aviva. We
MistyLogan is quite gaunt. That’s the first thing I notice as I linger in the doorway of the healer’s cottage, watching Cole check Logan’s ears. Cole is amazing with kids, and it shows, because Logan cracks a smile at something Cole says and Aviva interprets. But Cole’s eyes are heavy with concern when he turns away from the boy, his eyes scanning his notes before closing his notebook and setting it on the counter. Aviva, wearing Lexa on her back, takes Logan’s hand and leads him out of the healer’s cottage, closing the door behind her. I watch through the window as they walk away, into the rolling, morning fog. It’s a chilly late summer morning–the first truly cold morning since we arrived last week. It’s been four days since almost everyone fell ill, but thankfully that’s over. And, Kyra isn’t here right now. She’s off doing something in Endova, according to Cole and Ryan. I feel immediately more relaxed in her absence. “So? Is he going to live?” I try to tease to break the t
Aviva“What’s your name?” I ask in the old tongue as I lead the boy through one of the pastures, shoving chest-height strands of wheat to the side to give us a path.He doesn’t speak for a while. I don’t press him for information, either. The fact that he’s following me is enough.“Logan,” he says after a moment, his voice calm and cool like the breeze coming off the rolling hills in the distance.“How old are you?”“Twelve.”“I thought so.” I look at him over my shoulder, smiling, but he doesn’t return the gesture. Dark circles line his eyes, and he’s incredibly thin, even for a boy his age, who all seem to be gangly and lanky. His dark, nearly black hair is pin straight and sticks up at all angles, rustling in the breeze, and he’s pale with freckles across the bridge of his nose.A scar wraps fr