Page 4

Lars repeated the word silently in his mind.

Resist.

He wanted to believe that he could control his body's urges, that he had some power to resist the pressing, aching, primal want that arose during heat. He especially wanted to believe that no one, especially that monster, could influence him. He'd received some training for resistance, mental exercises that were meant to keep his mind strong. But he'd never had to actuallyusethe skills he'd learned.

The air changed and he was no longer walking on gravel. He was indoors, and he tried to retain some sense of where he was by noting every corner they forced him to turn and how many steps he'd taken. But his brain was rattled. Had it been three lefts and a right? Fifty steps? Why did it feel like they were going around in circles?

A door unlocked and banged shut behind him. More walking. Then the whir of an elevator.

A final door opened and Lars was marched inside. Someone shoved him sharply on both his shoulders. He tumbled forward and tried to catch himself, but momentum sent him stumbling over his feet. He fell, braced to meet the floor, but instead was greeted by the embrace of a soft mattress. Boots clomped, a door slammed, and then there was silence. At least, for a moment. As his ears adjusted to the softer volume, he picked up the sound of trickling water from somewhere in the room. Then the soft tick of a clock.

He struggled to sit up—it wasn't easy with his hands still bound behind his back. The damn hood wouldn't come off either, no matter how hard he tried to shake it loose. Shifting wouldn't do him any favors; the binds would break his arms in the process, and what would shifting do to his estrus? Would entering his wolf form make it worse?

He sat on the edge of the bed—at least, he was fairly sure it was a bed—and listened. He could just make out a rumbling sound coming through the ceiling. He was underground. When he sniffed the air, he caught the scent of varnished wood. Books, too? It reminded him of his father's study in the palace, a thought that brought a stab of pain to his heart.

I failed you,he thought.Mother, Father, I'm so sorry.

Lars felt even more remorse for his countrymen, the people of Ekdol. It was his duty to protect them as crown prince. If he had made it over the border, he would've been made king. He could've gathered his allies and done something to strike back. He could've done something to help. But in the end, he'd done nothing but flee.

Standing, he shuffled around in an attempt to find a way out. He tripped over something on the floor and landed back on the bed, his face slamming into a heap of pillows. Through the fabric of the hood he could smell a deep, warm scent that caused an immediate shiver to course down his spine. It proceeded to run through his entire body, moving deeper and deeper into his belly until it struck the humming cord there and sent it vibrating with even greater energy. His head spun. The feeling was so unexpected, it caused him to cry out.

He took a lungful of that intoxicating smell again. What was that? Why did it smell so incredibly good?

The vibration inside of him grew and grew, and it sent ripples of heat out from a spot deep within. His skin tingled and grew sensitive. He felt a deep and primal urge to burrow, to make a den where he could be mounted and filled so that this damn rising ache could be satisfied.

He took deep breaths to try and calm himself and slow the onset of his cycle, but the heat was well on its way to becoming a flame.

The lock clicked and Lars froze, alert. The door swung open and heavy footsteps entered the room. Not just one pair. Two pairs of footsteps. The door shut. He readied himself to lash out; he'd kick and bite if he had to. But then he smelled them. He recognized Griffin's scent, except now it felt different. It wasn't putting fear into him, but something else. And the other scent... It was the same that lingered on the pillows. The man it belonged to slept here.

Both intermingled and sent his senses into overdrive.

No!

He had to center himself. He had to remember the lessons and apply what he knew to quell the urges, otherwise...

The hood pulled free from his head, the light momentarily blinding him. As his vision slowly adjusted, a bunker of a room came into focus, one that was hastily constructed with exposed dirt walls supported by crisscrossed wood and metal beams. As temporary as the construction was, it was furnished with a massive bed, a metal bookshelf jammed full of books and files, and a large wooden desk with a map unfurled on its top.

Lars's attention quickly shifted back to the two men standing in front of him. His captor, the Colonel Griffin Greers, stood to the rear, his arms folded across his chest. Dangling from one fist was the royal pendant that he’d stolen from him, and it sent a surge of anger through Lars's body. The other man had leaned over to pull the hood from Lars's head. Also dressed in the Xyletian military uniform, this man's collar displayed the rank of commander. He was the colonel's brother, then. Lars could see the resemblance. The same dark hair, the same vicious eyes. They were unlike any eyes that Lars had seen before. A monster's eyes.

Griffin handed the pendant to his brother, and the man dropped into a crouch in front of Lars. He cradled the necklace in his palm, examining it pensively. Then he looked up, and Lars’s heart jumped as their eyes met. He wiggled backwards as Phoenix came closer to him.

"What's your name?" Phoenix asked. His voice was sharp and precise, less coarse than his brother's. He held the chain and let the pendant dangle in front of Lars's face.

Lars glared and said nothing.

"That's fine. We can call you Omega. So, Omega, tell me what you believed you could accomplish by crossing the border. Did you actually believe that you would be safe? Is that what your advisors told you? You would need to run further than Atlas if you wanted that."

"That is not what I was doing," Lars snapped. "Running away."

Phoenix glanced over his shoulder at his brother, who did nothing except cock his head slightly.

"Were you not?" Phoenix asked, sounding amused. It only made Lars angrier. "Then tell me, Omega. What were you doing?"

Lars kept his mouth shut this time. He fought to keep control over his senses as they were assaulted by the overwhelming presence of the two Alphas. He could smell Phoenix's scent, even more intoxicating than what had teased him on the bedsheets. He felt dizzy, like every lungful he breathed was a swallow of sweet liquor that was slowly altering his mind, making it soft and pliable to any suggestion. It was like a part of him was slipping away and being replaced with someone else. Someone who didn't want to run away, someone who didn't care that these two men were officers in the Xyletian military, someone who didn't care at all about what they were planning on doing with him.

The healers and advisors had never warned him it would be like this.

Phoenix stood, towering over him. "Alright. Allow me to hazard a guess. You were told that the government of Atlas would provide you with a safe haven in the capital, that if you could cross the border you would safely reunite with members of your royal house—members who would guide you in the restoration of your country. Is that about right?"