Page 15 of A Reign of Malice (Wolves of Lunara #3)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

SLOANE

G ods, what did I do?

It’s as if I’ve bathed in pheromones, and now I can’t scrub them off.

I’ve tried showering until my skin is raw, eating the most potent foods, and even drowning myself in unflattering clothes I own.

Nothing helps. Since I went to Aeson’s room, he’s not left me alone for long, and I’m starting to go insane.

The next morning, he showed up at my door with a tray of breakfast, insisting we eat together in the privacy of my room.

Clara, thankfully, burst in moments later, feigning an emergency with the pack.

Aeson hadn’t been pleased, but he’d left with a lingering kiss to my temple that made my wolf recoil.

Later, when I walked through the town to check on my people, he appeared beside me like a shadow, hand on the small of my back the entire time.

Possessive. Controlling. My pack watched with carefully blank expressions, but I’d caught more than one wary glance at Aeson’s public displays of affection.

They didn’t speak aloud, but through our mental link, I’d asked if there were any concerns, any whispers of mistreatment, anything they hadn’t wanted to voice with Aeson present.

Nothing, they’d all assured me. If anything, besides the side glances, my people seemed more settled than they had been in months. Food was plentiful, their quarters comfortable, and the guards kept their distance unless invited closer.

From the outside, everything looked perfect.

Now, thirty-six hours after I’d bitten him and collected his blood, he’s finally given me a sliver of space. Clara’s still buried in the books, chasing down every lead she can find on those damned runes. And me? I’m suffocating.

I need out.

My wolf, caged for days, pushes against my control, her restless energy making my limbs twitch with the need to move.

I stride through the castle’s dimly lit halls, each step lighter than the last as the grand front doors come into view.

The moment sunlight filters through the narrow windows lining the corridor, my chest loosens and my pace quickens.

Freedom.

We’re nearly there when the world plunges into darkness.

Harsh hands clamp down on my arms, yanking me sideways into a shadowy room. The door slams shut behind us, the faint click of the lock sealing my fate.

For a breathless moment, all I hear is my own pulse thundering in my ears. Then, Aeson’s scent hits me—dark spice and something colder beneath it, like snow melting over steel.

Instinct overrides thought. My wolf snaps to the surface, flooding me with raw, vicious strength. Canines extend, sharp and aching, while my fingers curl into claws. Before I can process the movement, my hand whips back, muscles coiling into a strike meant for his face .

Aeson catches my wrist mid-swing, slamming me against the wall with enough force to rattle the shelf beside us. My head pounds momentarily, but I blink away the pain, trying to process what’s happening.

“Easy, my queen,” he murmurs, voice smooth as silk. “It’s just me.”

I snarl, low and feral, the sound vibrating through my chest. My wolf doesn’t care who he is. He touched us without warning. He dragged us into the dark like we were prey.

Predators don’t take kindly to that.

I sweep my leg out, hooking his ankle and twisting. He stumbles, his grip loosening just enough for me to spin us around, slamming him against the cold stone. He might have six inches and fifty pounds on me, but I’ve taken down bigger threats with less adrenaline.

“Don’t grab me like that again,” I growl through gritted teeth.

His chuckle slides over my skin like acid. “Oh, Sloane. Come now. I was just trying to steal a moment alone with my mate. We’ve had hardly any time together since the other night.”

I don’t loosen my grip. If anything, my fingers tighten around his biceps, nails pricking through the thin linen of his shirt.

But I can’t. Not yet.

I force a smile to my lips. “I know. But once our guests arrive tonight and the ceremony is complete, things will settle.”

His expression softens into something dangerously close to affection, and that’s what unnerves me most. He truly believes that I’m his prize, his queen, his perfect pawn.

He catches the fabric of my flowing green dress, tugging me closer until his breath fans across my cheek. “We have right now, don’t we?”

My wolf lunges forward, and it takes everything in me to hold her back.

I press a hand to his chest, keeping my voice low and teasing. “Did you see how close I came to ripping your throat out just now? I need to run, Aeson. To burn off the edge before I snap at the wrong person.”

His lower lip juts out in an exaggerated pout. “I could give you a better workout.”

Don’t throw up on him, Sloane.

His grip tightens possessively on my waist as he nips at the sensitive skin just below my jaw. “My patience will only last so long, Sloane,” he warns, his voice a breathy growl. “I hope you don’t intend to keep teasing me.”

I smile sweetly, even as dread coils like a serpent in my gut. “Of course not.”

Finally, he releases me, stepping back with a satisfied smirk. Light spills into the room as he unlocks the door, and I realize we’re in one of the smaller, unused offices off the main corridor.

“Sloane,” he calls as I step into the hall, my heart already racing toward freedom.

I glance back, finding his expression wiped clean of charm, replaced by something colder. Emptier.

“I know you like running things your way,” he says, voice measured. “But you’re going to have to start giving more. After everything I’ve done for you, I expect a little more… appreciation . Do you understand?”

I swallow hard, my wolf growling in protest. “Of course, King Aeson.”

He nods, satisfied. “Good.” A pause. “I’ll be unavailable this afternoon.

Make sure you’re dressed properly before our guests arrive.

You should wear something fitting for the future Queen of Venaris.

” His gaze flickers over my simple silk dress, disdain curling at the corner of his mouth.

“I’ll have my choices laid out for you on your bed before I go. ”

On my bed.

My heart stutters. He’s going into my room.

The room where I’ve hidden the bloodied shirt. Wrapped in plastic, drenched in perfume, stuffed between the mattresses, but still hidden in my room .

I force my lips into a tight smile. “That’s really not?—”

“I insist.” His smirk grows, smug satisfaction oozing from every word. “Enjoy your run, my queen.”

Like hell that’s happening now.

He’s not giving me space. He’s hunting.

And if he finds what I’ve hidden, this game will be over before I’ve made my first real move.

Turning on my heel, I head outside as if his invasion of my privacy means nothing. As if the idea of him choosing my wardrobe is even remotely acceptable.

My fingers twitch with the urge to reach for my wolf, to let her tear through him and end this twisted game. But I force myself to walk—calm, composed, the picture of an obedient queen-to-be.

“Clara, I need you to run to my room and get the shirt,” I command through our mental link. “And move faster than you ever have. You might only have seconds.”

“On it.”

Her reply is swift, and I feign joy and confidence to the people of the kingdom as I walk through the castle grounds toward the forest. I know this could go wrong, that I’ve just put my best friend in grave danger.

As the seconds tick by, my pace falters. I should turn back. Should’ve pretended to forget something and returned to my room myself.

Clara is more than an advisor. More than a friend. She’s family. If anything happens to her…

“I want a raise,” she pants through our connection, breathless but triumphant. “That was damn close, but I think I’m in the clear.”

My heart slams against my ribs as I pause at the tree line. “What happened?”

“I got the shirt and hadn’t quite made it to my room when he came around the corner. Instead of slipping inside and ignoring him, since he’d already seen me, I cracked my door open, dropped the shirt behind me, and kicked it away, acting like I was just leaving to find you.”

Gods, I don’t know what I’d do without her.

Her voice sharpens. “He told me you were out for a run and that he was picking out your clothes for dinner. Then he said I’m to steam each item, shine your shoes until they glimmer like the gods damned stars, and make sure you’re the picture of perfection’ by sunset.

How did we never see this side of him before? ”

“Because he didn’t want us to,” I grumble. “Now, he has the upper hand. Or at least he thinks he does. I’m going to take this hour to run, but we’re not waiting any more, Clara. As soon as I’m back, we’re going to that hallway again.”

“During the middle of the day?” I can hear her disagreement, but I don’t care anymore.

“Aeson said he’ll be unavailable this afternoon, and if someone wants to question what their future queen is doing in her castle, I wish them luck.”

Clara laughs. “Oh, I hope they do.”

I call my wolf forward, and it doesn’t take much before my bones are breaking and reforming into my animal half. “You and me both. ”

With claws extended, my wolf takes off into the forest, a howl building from deep within her.

She’s mourning all the things we’ve lost and what we might not find when we get through the runes.

I don’t try to spin anything in a positive light—because she has a right to her own emotions, but also because I fear the same things.

If our mate isn’t the good guy, if he’s a monster who’s been rightfully locked away and we’re left with Aeson…

What the hell are we going to do then?

Less than two hours later, I return to my room, lungs burning and hair wild from the wind. Freedom clings to me like dew, but it evaporates the moment I see the gowns spread across my bed.

Three of them. Each one a deep purple, almost black, with intricate silver embroidery. The color of Venaris, of Aeson’s reign.

His mark.

I spin around and leave without a second glance.

I’d almost forgotten the nightmare I was returning to. But Aeson, ever the calculating bastard, never misses an opportunity to remind me.

I never should’ve signed that contract.

The memory of that night burns brighter with each step I take toward Clara’s room. I’d told myself to wait—to give it a moon cycle, to think with my head, not my heart. But then came the dream…

The one filled with strong hands, whispered promises, and piercing blue eyes.

Only now, with clarity realized by time, I understand the truth :

The man in the basement—the one shackled and broken—is the mirror image of Aeson.

Was my dream not of the king, but of the prisoner?

Hope flares, bright and treacherous, but I shove it down. Fated mate or not, I can’t let myself believe in fairytales. Not until I have answers.

I need to stand before this man eye-to-eye. To hear his story, to weigh the truth in his words, not through the hazy veil of whatever it is I’m doing without knowing how.

Clara meets me at her door, looking every bit the warrior advisor I’ve always trusted. Her blonde hair is pinned back, her black slacks crisp, and her emerald blouse— Alcaris green —glows like a beacon against the drab stone walls.

The color of home. Of hope.

“Ready?” she asks, already locking the door behind her.

I nod then frown. “Where’s the…key?”

She smirks, plucking at her loose blouse. The bloodied shirt peeks out from behind the fabric. “Safe and sound.”

We move quickly, steps silent against the polished stone. I scan the hallways for Dasha. I haven’t seen her since that night, but her absence only makes me more suspicious. She’s watching and waiting, I’m sure of that.

But I don’t care.

When we reach the southern wing’s lowest level, the air thickens. The silence is absolute. Clara and I exchange a glance but say nothing as we approach the painting. The heavy frame looks undisturbed from the last time we were there, its centuries-old landscape depicting a Venaris long forgotten.

We work together to get the frame down, and as soon as the runes are exposed, they glow. My heart races, and I lift my fingers to touch them, but Clara smacks my wrist. “We need to use the shirt first. ”

Right. That’s why we’re here.

She unbuttons her blouse and slips the ruined pajama shirt free before covering herself again. I take the bloodied cotton and step forward. I hold my breath, my entire body tense as I raise a hand and press the heaviest spot of blood to the stone.

With bated breath, I stare, unblinking. There’s a roaring in my ears as I wait for the drawing on the wall to become an actual door, but it seems sheer will isn’t enough. Nor is Aeson’s blood.

I glance at Clara, keeping the shirt in place. “Does it need to be fresh?”

There’s a deep crease between her eyes. “It shouldn’t matter—blood is blood—but maybe.”

My stomach sinks. “Or maybe it’s not Aeson.”

Just a week ago, I told myself not to twist things into something they weren’t, yet since finding the runes outside, I’ve continued to think the worst. Have I been painting the king as the villain without just cause?

Sure, he’s a misogynist, but he’s also done a lot for my people.

Does that give him an excuse to use his kindness against me?

No, but that doesn’t mean he’s responsible for trapping a man beneath this castle either—even one who looks just like him.

A rumble builds in my chest. Gods, why is this so confusing?

“Sloane?” The concern in Clara’s voice hits me just as my knees start to weaken and my vision falters. I’m thrust back into the darkness, but this time I know what’s happening and there’s no pain as I’m once again transported inside the cave.

My astral form stays standing, and I waste no time walking toward the water where he’s trapped. His bright blue eyes are on mine as if he’s been expecting me and his chest heaves as he struggles against the chains that bind him .

Water moves around his waist even once he stops moving. “You came back.”

I cross my arms as if that will calm my pounding heart. “Did you think I wouldn’t just because you told me not to?”

He smiles, and my chest tightens. The pulsing of our shared bond wraps around my heart, demanding I touch him, but I remain where I’m at, near the water.

“I’m glad you didn’t because I was wrong.” He stands taller, pulling against his shackles. “I’m getting out of here, and when I do, my brother’s going to pay for what he’s done and then I’m going to show you I’m not the monster he’ll try to convince you I am.”