“Oh? Are you playing host now, Alpha Raphael?”
He swallows, his eyes once again sliding off to the side. What little confidence he’d gathered is gone with a mere sentence, leaving me disgusted once again.
“I apologize if that came across poorly. My people are still… adjusting to the Lycan presence.”
“Are there complaints?”
“No, of course not.”
The lie reeks more than the alcohol being passed around, his pack is desperate to drown their sorrows, if only for a few hours.
“It’s an honor for the Blue Mountain Pack to host the Lycan King.”
Lie, again.
A cold smile stretches across my face. This pup has rebellion brewing behind those eyes, even if he isn’t strong enough to shoulder the will. Perhaps I should have cut the head off this pack entirely when I had the chance, leaving no successor.
The temptation is real, but I remind myself of Jack-Eye’s nagging and Fenris’s order. My rule will not be marred with death. I am more than my bloodlust.
As much as I want to tear this pup’s throat out for daring to have once coveted my human, I am capable of stepping back and allowing rational thought to take over, damn it.
A breeze drifts through the open windows, carrying Rafe’s scent toward me. Distinctly wolf, with a strong scent of forest pine, but underneath…
Blueberries. Sweet, faint. Unmistakable.
My vision hazes.
Her scent. On him. 2
My fingers curl into a fist, tattoos burning across my skin as Fenris howls inside my head, no longer locked away.
Power pulses out in a crushing wave, and unsuspecting shifters fall to their knees. Beer and wine soak the grass as their grips fail. Their new golden-haired alpha prostrates himself at my feet, his forehead and hands pressed against the ground and body trembling beneath the force of my rage.
“Why?”
I ask, clenching my fists at my side. I want to crush his bones, but manage to hold back.
“I-I don’t understand.”
His words are muffled against the ground.
“Did we do something to offend you, High Alpha?”
My hand shoots out, grabbing his hair and yanking his head up until he can meet my stare.
“The girl,”
I snarl.
“Why do I smell her on you?”
His eyes widen.
“It’s a misunderstanding.”
“Don’t.”
My grip tightens.
“I can smell your lies.”
“I visited her,”
Rafe admits, his words admirably steady compared to the pallor of his face and wide eyes.
“To explain we were over, and to give her a final goodbye.”
Lie.
“Did you touch her?”
“No.”
Lie.
“You touched her.”
CAINE
“No! I didn’t. She-she wouldn’t let me get near her. I swear it, High Alpha.”
Fenris growls low in my head, but Jack-Eye’s hand grasps my shoulder, squeezing hard.
“Caine,”
he says. Just my name, but his tone is full of warning.
I killed the last Alpha. Killing his successor is going to bring more trouble and headache. These are all facts I understand, but my brain is screaming, howling for a blood payment to ease my rage.
“That girl is mine,”
I whisper, forcing my clenched fingers to relax. The moment tension is released, his face slams to the ground again, still victim to my dominance.
Kill him, Fenris says, as if he wasn’t the one to force a promise of pacifism out of me earlier. 2
I shake my head, fighting to clear the red haze of bloodlust clouding my vision. The struggle is visceral-a war between my baser instincts and whatever shred of civility I’ve managed to maintain since ascending the Lycan’s throne.
It hasn’t been this hard since… A long time ago, in memories I refuse to recall. 2
My foot comes down on Raphael’s outstretched hand. Not an accident. Not a mistake. A deliberate, calculated expression of my fury.
Tiny bones crunch beneath my heel, bringing me a sliver of satisfaction, though my face remains blank.
Raphael grunts, jaw clenched tight, fighting to maintain dignity through the pain.
I’m not satisfied with this small display. Digging my heel in deeper, I grind against already fractured bones. Something inside me-something darker than even my normal temperament- wants to hear him break completely.
When Raphael finally releases a high, shrill scream, I feel the barest hint of satisfaction.
“Who does Grace Harper belong to?”
My voice drops low, barely above a whisper. The question hangs in the air between us, loaded with threat.
“You,”
he groans.
“She’s yours, High Alpha!”
The fury inside me ebbs slightly at his admission. The submission in his voice calms the savage beast clawing at my chest, at least enough to lift my foot from his hand.
My gaze sweeps across the clearing, taking in the mass of prostrated wolves. Some have their faces pressed so hard against the dirt I wonder if they’re still breathing. Others tremble visibly. Terror and fury mix in a bitter, pungent odor, overpowering even the smell of burning corpses brought in by the breeze.
“Keep your filthy hands off the girl. All of you.”
The crowd is frozen, without so much as a twitch in response.
Something nags at the edge of my consciousness. A detail I’ve missed. I scan the gathering again, more carefully this time, cataloguing the faces, the scents, the postures.
That’s when it hits me. Raphael never appointed a beta tonight. It’s a glaring oversight for a succession ceremony. While it isn’t required, it is certainly unusual for a beta-less pack to leave the position empty.
There’s always the possibility his first choice of beta died, but it’s a potential sign of trouble, leaving me uneasy. Especially when I also realize the scent from the girl’s room, the strange wolf who’d challenged Fenris in the forest, is missing.
Fenris.
My wolf responds instantly to my silent call, the tattoos on my skin burning as he materializes beside me, saturating the immediate vicinity with a faint haze of blue light.
“Check on the girl,”
I order him, keeping my eyes on Raphael.
Fenris doesn’t hesitate, bolting toward the main building with supernatural speed. The sight of him-manifested separately from me-sends another wave of fear through the crowd.
I kneel in front of Raphael, grabbing his hair to once again bring his face level with mine. His eyes are glazed with pain, his breathing shallow.
“Who else visited Grace tonight?”
My voice is calm now, almost conversational. The contrast to my earlier rage probably makes it all the more unsettling.
“Caine,”
Jack-Eye says again, with a sigh.
I can feel my subordinates standing with him, but they remain silent, probably disapproving. I’m bringing more trouble and work onto my shoulders, but it’s impossible to hold back the rage in my head, the whispers of vengeance driving my every action.
Raphael’s eyes slide off, and I shake his head until his gaze meets mine again.
“Who is it, Alpha Raphael? Which of your people went to her room tonight?”
“No one,”
he says, his voice hoarse.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.