When Leona Austel, a rogue pretending to an alpha's daughter, finds her mate she immediately wishes she never had. Her mate is the King of Werewolves, the ruthless ruler of Utrif, known for his contempt for rogues. And now that he has her, he has no plans of letting her go. Their fate is a cruel one. He can't know or she will have to kill him. She can't be found out or he will kill her.
View MoreWe are in Noah’s office. A spacious dark room with rows of tall book shelves lining the right, a wide desk with tall stacks of paper in the middle right in front of yet another glass wall, and a plunged in sitting area in the middle with more stacks of files. It would look like any other office it wasn’t for the enormous painting of the former King both sides of the entrance. Six people sit in the middle and pale a little when Noah slowly walks in behind me. “Leave,” is all he says and they all comply, dropping whatever files they had in their hands or whatever conversation they were having. I get a very strong urge to join them but stand my ground, waiting for the door behind me to shut and for my very visibly frustrated mate to say something. “You have a habit of doing the worse possible thing at the worst possible time.” He finally faces me, his brows furrowed and lips in a thin line. “I got useful input,” I offer.
There is a dark shadow looming over Haze’s face as he inches down Noah. The realisation of whose presence he is in dawns on him the moment the presence entered the room. There is more eye in his pupils than his eyes. The fear there, it makes me proud as much as it makes me sick. I do not dare to look at my side. I can feel the scorching gaze pinning me in place, but I do not have time to entertain it or fear it. Stepping aside Elma, I slap my hands onto the table. "Speak!" I do not mean for my voice to come out like I am a wild boar, but it does. And it startles Haze enough to snatch his widened eyes from my mate back to me.‘Speak before I kill you.’I feel Noah stepping closer to me, not just because of the increasing waves of thundering pleasure but because of Haze inching away from me every second. Noah comes to stand right behind me, the flurrying heat from his body making me feel things I should not be feeling in a prison. I still do not turn around. My mate makes use of tha
Haze does not look up as I enter the room. He does not seem to even notice as I take a place at one of the chairs in middle, until I say, "You seem comfortable." He looks up at me lazily, through heavy lashes, thickened with sleep and wolfsbane. Silence. Then his eyes crinkle, his head tips back and all I can hear is the ricochets of his loud, reverberating laughter. I grit my teeth, willing patience in my nerves. If I kill him here, how much questions will that raise? Many, a voice says. I don't think killing someone would be an ideal position for me to gain trust of my new found mate's court, whose resources I very dearly need. So I quietly settle for a glare and gesture him to take a seat. His gaze narrows but he obeys, standing with poorly hidden lethargy and dropping down with a careless thud. "I should've known you would weasel your way out." "I should've known you would be such a pain in the ass." "Well, we need some catching up to do then," he drawls, rolling bac
No elevator leads to the interrogation rooms—a glorified name for a torture cell, in my opinion—so we climb down an infinite number of stairs. The atmosphere grows heavier with each step. The concrete walls here are thick and cold, with the faint echo of dripping water occasionally punctuating the silence. Finally we reach a heavy steel door, its surface scratched and worn from use. Malcolm pushes it open, revealing a dimly lit corridor. The light flickers intermittently. The air is dank, carrying a faint scent of iron and decay. But I can see everything, further confirming my senses are now intact again. Malcolm leads me down the corridor, past several heavy doors, each marked with a small, scratched metal plate indicating different sections—Interrogation, Holding Cells, Evidence Storage. We pass a few holding cells, their barred fronts casting long shadows in the faint light. Inside, the cells are bare, save for a single cot and sorry excuse for a toilet. The place is practica
Malcolm serves me looks full of pity and genuine sorrow as I amble aimlessly through the empty corridors, passing by various rows of offices in the palace. During this time I find out that the palace is divided into three core sections that further branches into wings. The first section is the public square, where the whole kingdom's affairs are handled. The throne room is also present there. The second section is the pack square, where pack affairs are handled. It is where Noah's and his court is located—War room, meeting rooms, guest rooms, offices, everything. The third section, crooned into the bed of a mountain, is where I just came from. I have now walked almost every empty lane in the pack square, as most pack members are dispersed and distracted in work as their superiors are occupied in the war room with my mate. Malcolm does not meet my eyes, wordlessly following wherever I go, and only speaking when I turn to a section of the palace
The communication office is a spacious room with numerous screens and numerous people sitting in front of them. Malcolm walks swiftly, leading me from behind the booths before any one of them turns and notices us. We saunter to the right end where an open door awaits me. When I enter, a man, with grey streaking his hair from the sides and a stoic expression on his face, bows low. "Your Majesty," he says, his voice hoarse and heavy. "The line is ready. Do send for me when you are done." Just like that he slips to the side and leaves. I swallow an invisible lump down my throat as I pick up the thing. Would Rey want me to call him? Or would he tell me how stupid I am for doing so when he clearly told me to stay away? How did he react to me being mated to the king? A million questions swirl around my head, the answers nowhere to be found unless I call. My grip on the phone tightens. Leave, he had said. But I did
"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Your Majesty," the boy stutters uncontrollably, "I am Malcolm Hale, Beta Elma's aide and a senior healer at the palace. I will be escorting you to the communication's office." "Nice to meet you, Malcolm," I say, smiling. "I hope you can forgive me for holding you hostage." He is frantic, looking at every other place instead of me. "I-it's fine." "I won't do it again." He nods, but doesn't look convinced as he opens the door and spreads his arm to the right, flinching when I pass him. "This way, Your Majesty." The doors open up to an indoor balcony-like area that acts like an antechamber, where glass walls encase the entire floor—a panoramic vista of the rest of the palace and beyond it, the city, thickens my vision. We descend the broad staircase right in front and it splits around a central glass-enclosed tree that goes up and through the top of the roof. It i
Rey and I were both attacked. We were both targeted. Which means that they were not just there because they were after me, but the treaty Rey mentioned Alpha Renier had with the rogues, it is at play here too. The gears in my head start to turn. Haze, someone who had no connection with rogues, suddenly joining them. Rogues, who had very rare contact with people ever since the rogue trials started, suddenly starting to attack. And finally the cardinal sending Valis to get me to kill the king, who the rogues previously would not even dream of coming close to. The wheels of something very dangerous are creaking here. Why are the rogues so confident all of a sudden? As I am scouring through every piece of information I have and connecting whatever estranged dots I can, my mate grows restless. "Answer me."
“It was because of the wolfsbane." Noah sighs, running a hand through his hair. Something that does little to help him. "The kalhyi's claws were lined with wolfsbane. That is why your wound has still not healed. You were dying. And your wolf was already halfway to the other side." At his words I dive into my link. And I sense the truth of his words. My wolf breathes. Barely. But she is still not awake. A heavy weight settles right in the middle of my chest. "Your link was severed. You were mortal. And you were going to die. The only way in the moment was getting your wolf to live. Being the luna to the cardinal pack connects you to the land. With that comes power. You are my mate, but you were not the luna yet so—“ "You made me accept the mate bond," I say the unsaid words. Noah does not look me in the e
"All accept ksei, Noah Silverton as their King?" Noah knew he could be challenged for the throne any moment. Then he would have to fight and kill, only to land back at the dais, in front of the Elders of Vermiculo Pack. A pack Noah would be made Alpha of a day after. The coronation before the marking demonstrated that he was to be a King before an Alpha. And challenging the strongest werewolf on land would be folly, yet there was a moment of silence for anyone to arise one. On his knees, with a wolf's bane flower and a moon stone in either hand, Noah held his breath. He was only eighteen, being handed the throne three years after his father's death, from the clutches of a hungry council who enjoyed their interim rule over Utrif. He was not prepared for this. But now he had to pretend he was. And he could take on a challenger, couldn't he? Uncertainty clouded his vision for a moment. He shook it away. The coronation was something made to be after the first kingdo
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