EllaA fine layer of mist covers the ground as I follow Commander Westfall down a steep embankment. Pockets of loose shale give way beside me, tumbling to the ground and shattering like glass. I pull my cloak tighter, grimacing as my feet slip and slide over the uneven ground. The sun hasn’t risen yet. Stars shine bright above us, the only light to be found. “We’re almost there,” he says gruffly. “Well,” I say tartly, glaring at the back of his big, fat head. “Those are the first words you’ve said to me in a kind tone since you died.”He says nothing, of course. He doesn’t want to be here. I don’t either, but Ryatt is calling the shots, and that means I have to go to the coven to take over–or whatever. I got one last night with Ryatt before we parted. He left Veiled Valley with Granger shortly before we left, the two of them decked out in leathers and weapons. He’d looked back over his shoulder and nodded at me. Then he was gone. Not having the mind-link with him anymore is weig
Ryatt“What the fuck is happening?” My hands curl into fists as I stalk toward the group of warriors–a gaggle of dirty, exhausted men and wolves–and stop a few feet away from their general, a young man named Tanner. His nostrils flare as he tries to stay upright in my presence, but his knees wobble. He’s resisting the urge to back away. “We were attacked last night in Fenwyrd Pass. We counted six rogues.”“Rogues don’t run in packs,” I counter, eyeing the young general. I don’t know him. He was put in his position by Artyom, who is currently speaking in low tones to Granger. “We came upon a campsite,” the young general grinds out, his teeth chattering with nerves as I lean in. He swallows hard then continues, “Two of my men were attacked from behind and hauled off into the woods. We followed and came upon a… feeding ground.”I raise my brows. “What exactly did that entail?”The general goes a little green, but clears his throat. “It’s about as bad as you could expect, my King.”‘Rog
EllaSilver manacles burn into my wrists. The hot, slippery metal slides over my bones as I curl into myself, trying to shelter myself from the pain. Water drips onto my filthy hair. It’s ice cold, which is a welcome relief from the sweltering heat radiating through the room made of sweating pale stone.There’s a single door and no windows, and I have no idea if I’m underground or high, high above in some tower. Everything from the brief moments of clarity I had after being pulled from the river to now are blurry. Flashes of being dragged by my hair through wet mud. The feeling of silver being sliced over my bruised skin. The sound of manacles being locked in place, and muffled voices lifted in snarling laughter at my expense.I woke up some time ago thirsty and in the worst pain I think I’ve ever felt. The pain radiates from my wrists and writhes a snake through every vein, over every muscle, setting deep in my bones.The worst of it lingers in my lower belly. A dull, cramping ache h
EllaThere’s nothing in my head but the sheer will to survive as Petra swings Ryatt’s sword. She miscalculates how heavy it is, and based on the way her arms tremble and bow, she’s never wielded a sword before, either.The gem-encrusted hilt slides out of her hands, the sword whizzing through the air. A screech of pain sounds nearby, and I spare a glance in the direction of the sound.A wolf—one of Petra’s warriors—is twitching on its side while blood pools around his body.I don’t hide the smirk that stretches over my cracked lip as Petra slowly turns her gaze back to me. I step to the side, then step again, putting a few feet of distance between me and the deranged witch. All around us, warriors, guards, and even some of her slaves are starting to gather to watch the fight.I mean to give them a show they’ll never forget.If I can muster the strength.Each step is painful. Each breath rattles through my lungs. My blank thoughts flash with images of Ryatt. He can’t find me without th
RyattThe village of Cerserne sits on the southernmost border between the Roguelands and Rifthold. Quiet, scant, and nothing but rolling, grass covered hills, it’s a peaceful place. The men quickly ushering their wives and children into the scattered pale stone cottages aren’t at peace, however, not with a band of wolves marching into their village. The burly man in brown leather who walks in my direction looks murderous, but his expression shifts to one of skepticism and concern as he recognizes the dark emblem of the Roguelands on the armor on the bodies of my warriors who are still in their human forms. I walk between the dozen or so warriors, Granger walking a few paces behind me. My warriors part to allow me to edge right up to the Alpha of Cerserne–an Alpha who once allied with Kane. “What do I owe the…pleasure?” he croons, giving me a dramatic bow. His thick black beard brushes against his chest as he rises to his full height and crosses his arms over his broad chest. I s
EllaThey follow me like baby ducks. I’ve counted thirty-eight of them so far, though several of the witches are barely able to walk on their own. Everytime I speak, thirty-eight sets of eyes light on mine, unblinking. If I stop walking abruptly, the dozen or so strongest unsheath blades and bows and arrows we stole from the dead warriors we left in the caves. The caves… well, the witches and I didn’t leave right away. Those strong enough to fight killed the rest of the warriors while the others went to free their sisters from the networks of cells hidden along darkened corridors. All of the strange pyres were staunched, and the walls…. I glance around at the witches setting up camp along the base of a cliff. Most of them are splattered with blood, and their hands are covered in it. They painted the walls of those caves red. I exhale deeply and continue poking the fire in front of me. Rain rips through the camp in sheets that pass as quickly as they come. A huge storm just tore th
EllaI’m not sure what time it is. Ryatt picked me up and carried me out of the tub hours ago, laying me in bed with so much tenderness it nearly broke my heart.We’ve been lying here ever since. My cheek rests against his arm while his other one cradles me, his hand tucked under my breast.He’s asleep. His rhythmic breathing is the only sound in the room other than the rain softly padding against the foggy windows. The fire burned out long ago, and the room is cast in silver gray light as the sun finally begins to rise.I want to stay here forever–in this room, with my mate’s warmth penetrating my skin. Outside the door leading back into the main rooms of the inn, our reality awaits. War, unrest, death and despair. I killed Petra, sure, but I know we have more trials to face. More enemies to conquer.Ryatt stirs as that silvery, stormy morning light starts to creep up the bed. His legs are tangled in the sheets, and the soft lighting makes his scars and roping, intricate tattoos all
IsaacI gently lift Sydney out of Maddy’s arms. He blinks, then a fleeting smile stretches over his face before he falls back asleep with milk dribbling down his cheek. Ryan is already sleeping in the double-wide crib tucked beneath the window in our bedroom, his chubby arms and legs splayed out like a starfish. Sydney likes to be swaddled but I’m terrible at it. I mumble curses under my breath as I try to adjust his swaddle and gently lay him down beside his brother, who is in nothing but a diaper, which is just the way Ryan likes it. Thank the Goddess it’s a sweltering summer night. I edge away from the crib with my hands out in surrender, grimacing as my foot catches that damned squeaky floorboard I keep forgetting to tell someone to fix, but the twins remain asleep. So does my wife. Maddy’s wine-red hair falls over her shoulder and back as she rolls over on her side and curls into the blankets. She whispers something to herself in her sleep, but it’s lost on me. I’m too focus