Page 13 of A Reign of Malice (Wolves of Lunara #3)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

SLOANE

T he castle feels colder tonight as I make my way to Clara’s room. A chill runs down my spine and my wolf perks up, but when I look around, I don’t see anything off-putting. Only the flickering of shadows thanks to the late hour and the sconces on the walls.

Squaring my shoulders, I continue, and when I enter Clara’s room, I find her perched on her bed, cross-legged, surrounded by scattered books. Her hair is mussed from hours of reading, but her eyes are piercing as they lift to meet mine.

“I found it.” Clara grins, holding up a leather-bound tome, its cover splintered with age.

The sight of the ancient book stirs something inside me—a mixture of hope and dread. I cross the room quickly, my chest tightening with every step. “Tell me.”

Clara flips through brittle pages, her fingers gentle despite her urgency. “The runes we saw? They were traditionally used for two purposes: to cleanse a place of dark energy or to strip power from an individual. The spell itself doesn’t choose. It only follows the intent of the caster. ”

My stomach knots. “So, it’s not just about what the runes are doing. It’s about who set them and why .”

Clara nods grimly. “Exactly. They’re either holding something dangerous back…or they were meant to destroy a being’s power entirely.”

I inhale slowly, trying to keep my thoughts in order. This confirms what I’d already suspected, but it doesn’t answer the most pressing question: Who’s the true monster here—the man beneath the castle or the one ruling it?

I glance toward the window, the moons hanging low over the distant treetops. If Aeson was truly hiding something this dangerous, why hadn’t he been more careful? Why leave the runes exposed, where any curious wolf could stumble on them?

Clara slides out of bed, and I follow her to a table.

She sets the book down, giving me an opportunity to peek through it as she grabs another.

There are hundreds of pages here with information about runes—how to set them, what sacrifices are needed to do so, and the ramifications of using such magic—but there’s nothing about how to break them.

“How are we supposed to get him out of those chains?” I ask, still not taking my eyes off the ancient text.

“Blood.”

I tense. “Whose blood?”

She points to another book, this one frailer than the first. “Whoever cast the spell. We need their blood to open that door. I don’t know if it will help with the chains, but it will get you physically inside instead of just projecting yourself into the room like before. Something I still can’t explain.”

She doesn’t need to. I don’t know how that happened either, but I know why, and that’s all I can concern myself with for now. That man is my fated mate. I was drawn to him so I can find peace with my choices. Nothing more, nothing less.

“So, I need Aeson’s blood.” I close the book and cross my arms. “I could challenge him to a friendly sparring session, but I doubt he’d agree just days before our bonding ceremony.”

Clara’s eyes cast down, and I already know I’m not going to like what she says next. “You could bite him.”

The suggestion slams into me like a punch. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Hear me out.” She raises both hands, palms up in mock surrender.

“If you bite him in the heat of the moment, he’ll think it’s instinctual, not premeditated.

Let your wolf rise during…whatever you need to do, and no one will question it.

Use your shirt to catch the blood, feign embarrassment, and get the hell out. ”

Revulsion twists in my gut, but I can’t deny the logic. There’s no way to stab him without raising suspicion and asking for his blood would be laughable.

“I hate that this makes sense,” I mutter, running a hand down my face.

Clara reaches for me, squeezing my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Sloane. I can’t imagine how difficult this is for you, but I know you can do it.”

Gods, this sounds like the worst idea ever, but also like the only option. There’s no way I can stab him and get away with it being an accident. Biting him seems the most logical, even if it’s the most repulsive.

“I have to do this now,” I tell her, beginning to pace. “We can’t wait any longer. Not with the ceremony just days away. I need to talk to my…that man again before the others get here and getting through that door is the best way.”

She grins at me. “It’s okay, Sloane. You can call him your mate. I’m not judging you, even if he turns out to be the monster. It’s not like that would be your fault.”

I’m not worried about her judging me; I just can’t allow my heart to think of him as mine. Not until I have my answers, at least.

“Go back to your room and get into your pajamas.” She points to my emerald dress. “You won’t be able to soak up blood if you have to lift the hem. You need a loose shirt, preferably a cotton one.”

My lips thin. “What if it’s not Aeson? We have no clue how long those runes have been there. It could’ve been his father who laid that spell, or someone else who’s no longer around to take blood from. If we’re wrong, and I raise Aeson’s suspicions too much…”

She grabs both my hands, her face stoic. “Something tells me he needs you more than you need him. Even if he questions your intentions, his end game seems to be power. Without your pack and bond, he’ll be no better off than he was before.”

“Unless he kills me and takes over anyway.” It’s a possibility I’ve tried not to dwell on, but one I know could happen. Well, I know he could try anyway. He’s not the first man I’ve had to defend my place against, and he won’t be the first to win either.

Clara’s dark chuckle fills the room. “And how’s that worked out for those who’ve tried before? You can handle Aeson. You’re the Queen of Alcaris, an alpha who hasn’t ever bowed to anyone. You’re not going to start now.”

No, I’m certainly not.

“Okay. If we’re wrong,” I tell her, “then we’re no worse off than we are right now. Either way, we’ll figure this out.”

“There’s my queen.” She nods toward the door. “Now, go get sexy. You have a king to seduce. ”

“I hate you some days.” My grumbles follow me all the way across the room.

“And yet you still keep coming back for my expert opinion,” she teases. “Have fun!”

There’s no way that could happen, but maybe, just maybe, making this man bleed won’t be the worst thing to happen this week.

A quick change in my room, and I’m back in the hallway, headed to Aeson’s room. This time, I have no doubt someone’s following me. I still can’t get eyes on them, but the faint sound of a heartbeat never seems to get further away.

I could take this as a bad sign, but at least I know now. It will change my plans for when I leave Aeson’s room. While I was hoping to go straight back to the painting, that will have to wait until I can be sure nobody is trying to trail us.

My heart pounds as I round the corner and spot Aeson’s door. Every muscle tenses, but I don’t try to calm myself. I need the flush in my cheeks, the quickened breath, the trembling fingers. He’ll think it’s nerves. Desire. He won’t question it if I sell the act well enough.

You’ve survived worse, I remind myself, lifting my hand to knock. You can do this.

The door swings open faster than I expect.

Aeson stands there, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

There’s a flicker of irritation on his face, though it’s replaced by curiosity in an instant.

His gaze sweeps over me, and the corner of his mouth lifts in a knowing smirk.

“Sloane.” His tone is indulgent, like he already knows why I’m here.

I push past him, brushing against his chest as I enter .

Let him think it’s boldness, not desperation.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I murmur, turning to face him as he closes the door. “Dinner was…nice. Too nice. I tried to go back to my room, but all I could think about was you.”

It’s disgustingly easy to slip into the role.

My fingers find the hem of my loose button-up shirt, toying with the fabric as if trying to steady myself.

His gaze drops to the movement, heat flickering in his eyes.

I force myself to look at his mouth, not his eyes.

I can’t risk seeing the darkness I know lurks there—the reminder of everything I’m fighting.

Aeson’s hesitation lasts only a moment before he steps closer, sliding his hands around my waist to tug me against him. “I wondered if my kiss earlier had pushed you away,” he murmurs, voice low and smooth. “But I see now it only left you wanting.”

My stomach churns, but I lift my head, letting my lashes flutter. “It was exactly what I needed. It’s just been so long since…” I bite my lip for effect.

His grip tightens, one hand tangling in my hair to pull my head back, exposing my throat. “Don’t you worry about a thing, my queen. I’ll remind you exactly what you’ve been missing.”

I swallow the snarl rising in my throat. He loves control. Let him think he has it.

His lips trace a path down my neck, and I shudder, but not from pleasure. He reaches for the buttons of my shirt, working them loose with practiced ease. I groan softly, and his movements quicken, interpreting my discomfort as eagerness.

“Kiss me,” I demand, voice low and rough, before I lose my nerve.

He obliges instantly, mouth crashing into mine. I lean into it, letting my wolf snarl quietly in the back of my mind. For the truth, I remind her. For us.

The moment his tongue brushes mine, I let my canines extend, pointed and unforgiving. I moan loudly, tilting my head as if surrendering further, and he growls in response, fingers digging into my hips.

Now.

I snap my jaw closed, catching his bottom lip. Hard. The coppery tang of blood floods my mouth, sharp and metallic. He jerks back with a hiss, hand flying to his mouth as crimson streaks down his chin.

“Damn it, Sloane!” His eyes flash with surprise, not anger.

I stumble back, feigning horror, my hands flying up to cover my mouth. “Gods, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to. I got carried away. I didn’t realize my wolf?—”

I reach for him, dabbing at the blood with the hem of my shirt, heart hammering. The cotton soaks through quickly, dark red spreading across the pale fabric. My hands shake, not entirely an act.

His gaze tightens, suspicion flickering there for the first time.

I duck my head, avoiding his eyes, playing the flustered lover instead of the scheming queen.

He catches my chin, forcing me to look up. His thumb brushes over my lower lip, smearing blood. “I like seeing you unravel,” he murmurs, voice dark with satisfaction. “You should do it more often.”

The revulsion crawling up my throat nearly chokes me, but I swallow it. “I—I can’t,” I stammer, stepping back, clutching the bloodied fabric to my chest like a lifeline. “I’m sorry. I thought I was ready, but it’s too much. I need a moment. ”

Aeson’s brows draw together, confusion clouding his expression. “Sloane?—”

I don’t let him finish. I spin on my heel, yanking the door open and practically sprinting down the hall, ignoring the low chuckle that follows me.

Let him think it’s nerves. Let him think I’m weak.

Turning the corner, I catch a flash of movement. Dasha. Her pale face peeks from the shadows, lips pressed into a thin line. So it was her following me. Her gaze drops to the crimson stain on my shirt, and something like panic flickers across her face.

I ignore the meek advisor. She’s not my concern right now.

Slamming my bedroom door behind me, I lean against the wood, chest heaving as I let the tremors take over. The taste of his blood lingers on my tongue, bitter and vile.

“I did it,” I say to Clara through our mental link. “But I’m being watched. We need to wait another day or two before we go back to the portrait.”

Clara’s response is immediate, laced with worry. “Are you okay?”

“I am.” For now, at least.

There might be consequences for tonight’s show, but I have to hope they’ll be worth it.