Page 90
Story: May the Wolf Die
“How dare you say that about him?” he seethed.
“Shifters live in camps, Ezra!” I replied. A flash of pain wiped across his face, but he quickly recovered, like a robot rebooting. “And he wants to ethnically cleanse both the worlds of vampyrs, for fuck’s sake. I’m sorry, but neither of those things sound like the makings of a benevolent ruler. I will never,everlove or follow a demented sociopath like him!”
A sharp pain erupted from my stomach, and I doubled over, gasping for air and relief. Alaroth’s eyes narrowed, fire and hatred growing in his cruel gaze as I fell to my knees, tears streaming down my face, my mouth open in a silent scream.
The pain was… indescribable. Like I was being flayed alive from the inside. I could barely breathe or think.
He crouched down next to me, pushing my hair out of the wayso he could whisper in my ear. “I warned you about your temperament, beloved. Apologize, and I will forget this little tirade of yours.”
I gulped air like a fish out of water, trying to form the words.
“Fuck…” *gasp* “you…”
The pain intensified and I fell completely on the ground, curling into the fetal position. Maybe I’d overestimated my value here, and he really could kill me if I proved to be too much trouble.
He stood over me and watched, Ezra growing more and more desperate behind him. “Please, Your Majesty, you told me…”
“I know what I told you!” he snapped. “But you vastly understated her bold recalcitrance. Such open disobedience and slander cannot go unpunished.”
It was hard to know how much time had gone by, the agony consumed me entirely. I couldn’t even find reprieve in dissociation—he’d somehow gotten inside my head, forcing me to relive my worst memories over and over in a sick loop.
“Your Majesty, let me take her place. I will bear this punishment, please…”
“Silence!” Alaroth shouted. “You may endure this by watching her or joining her, but she will receive it either way.”
Blood coated my mouth, my vision fading to black as my heart finally gave out.
33
CAMDEN
Iran a vacuum over the rug again, taking out all my frustration on whatever dirt that could be found in James’s pristine home.
Before, when we’d been waiting for the Rite, all I’d wanted to do was distract myself and kill time. Video games, TV, whatever would allow me to turn my brain on autopilot just so I could get through those three days as quickly as possible.
Now, I couldn’t even sit still. Every second I was doing nothing was a second wasted. A second that could be spent searching for her, helping Archer with his research, getting my revenge on the alphas who’d tried to fight us for her. And when I wasn’t doing any of those things, I was cleaning. I couldn’t concentrate if I saw dust, dirt, clutter, crumbs, smudges…
Nolan, Archer, and Elias at least knew how to pick up after themselves, but Julian was a Moon-damned tornado, leaving work for me wherever he went.
When things were better, when Marlowe was home, safe and sound, I’d smack him upside the head and teach him how to use a broom. But until then, I’d let it slide. He’d fought like hell for Marlowe twice now, and at least his mess gave me something to do until we left tomorrow.
Tomorrow.I had no doubt tomorrow was the day we’d finally be crossing over into that stupid fae world so we could get her back from her brother and that king, whoever the hell he was.
I didn’t know how we’d beat them yet, but we had Marlowe’s magic running in our veins. It was better than nothing.
So far, Elias was the only one who’d been able to produce anything, though, and he still couldn’t really manage it. After his first outburst, he’d only been able to shoot out a small sputter of fire or two.
I assumed it was like our wolves. At first, we couldn’t really control when or where we shifted. But with time and practice, it started to become second nature. So much so that it hardly felt like my wolf was a separate entity anymore. We shared more thoughts than not, which came in handy when hunting down alphas who had fought in the Rite.
Satisfied there wasn’t a speck left, I turned off the vacuum and started wrapping the cord when my phone vibrated in my pocket.
I took it out and scowled at the number on the screen. I’d specifically told Trish to make sure no one from work contacted me until Marlowe was back, but apparently some asshole didn’t get the memo.
“This had better be real fucking important,” I snarled.
A female coughed nervously on the other end. “Hey, Camden, this is Kate, from IT. I know you’re, uh, off the clock, but Patricia suggested I call you with this.”
That traitor. Seriously, what the hell could be so important from IT?
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