Page 43 of A Reign of Malice (Wolves of Lunara #3)

I drive my forehead straight into his nose.

The crack is satisfying. Blood spurts down his face as he stumbles back, clutching his nose.

“You bitch,” he snarls.

I smile, wild and unbroken. “Yeah. I might be. But I’ll never be yours.”

Energy builds within me like a storm caught in a bottle. My wolf thrashes against the confines of my skin, her energy clawing at the ropes that bind me. She’s seething—wild and primal—and there’s no magic strong enough to keep her caged when her fury ignites.

Then it happens.

The shift comes fast and hot, fire coursing through every vein as my body gives way to the beast inside. The magical bindings crackle then snap with a sound like dried branches underfoot. The ropes disintegrate into ash. My wolf surges forward, free and vicious.

I waste no time. My vision locks on Aeson, and we strike.

Our aim is true, my claws directly in line with his throat, but he’s ready. He lifts his arm to block, and we slice into flesh, just not where I was hoping. For the briefest moment, I feel victory.

But then…

His blood hits my paw like boiling oil. He’s become his own personal brand of poison.

He laughs, the sound a bitter symphony of pleasure and madness. “Haven’t you learned by now?” he taunts, voice reverberating like a curse. “I’m not the same man I used to be.”

I circle him warily, my wolf wounded but not broken. We’ll recover, but we’ll have to be smart about it.

The burning stops before it reaches my flank, and we can put some pressure on that leg, just not enough to charge forward aggressively a second time.

Aeson saunters toward me like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Are you understanding yet, my queen? Can you see how this ends yet?”

I’d rather be dead than his queen, but something tells me my death isn’t his goal. At least not yet.

Moving as swiftly as I can, I lunge for him once again with jaws snapping. I go low, aiming for the flesh of his thigh, but he’s faster than I expect for someone filled with toxins.

He dodges, seeming unconcerned that his wounded arm is still dripping, not healing as it would for a normal wolf. There’s something unholy holding him together. It’s not adrenaline. It’s not instinct.

It’s dark magic. Just as Estee warned.

Aeson shoves me back, and I skid across the floor, my claws scraping stone as I slow my momentum.

He comes for me again, the grin of a devil on his face as he raises his bloodied hand. Before I can react, he wipes two fingers across my right eye .

The effect is immediate.

Agony erupts through my wolf’s head as the darkness soaks into my vision. My right eye goes blind. We howl in pain. I stumble, thrashing. For a terrifying moment, the world is lopsided. Sight and shadow merge, and I can’t tell up from down.

“Shift!”

I hear the word, and I can’t tell where it comes from or who said it, but I listen anyway before the poison can reach my brain, ending all this before it’s even truly begun.

I change back, the magic from the transformation covers my body, slowing the shift. Its warmth seeps into me as if cleansing my body. By the time I’m on two feet again—well, on my knees—the burning has subsided, but my vision is still blurry in the right eye.

I clutch my face, fresh blood on my cheek that feels like tar. Is this my own or Aeson’s? I reach for the tablecloth, yanking it toward my face even as dishes crash on the floor, and wipe furiously and just when I think I might be okay, a shadow falls over me.

“You didn’t really think I’d let you touch me without consequence, did you?” Aeson taunts, his voice low and nearly as sharp as the blade he draws from his suitcoat pocket.

It gleams silver under the golden light, and I feel his intent.

My life is no longer safe.

He means to end me. Now.

He stalks closer, slowly, savoring it.

Then—

“Don’t!” Dasha’s voice shatters the tension like a lightning bolt. She’s moving, fast and desperate, her hand clamping around his wrist. Her fingers shake, but they hold. “You need her, Aeson. If you kill her, you destroy yourself. You said it yourself. You needed her to balance…”

Aeson’s glare is enough to have her words trailing off as he replies. “I don’t need anyone.”

His arm moves in a blur.

I think it’s meant for me, but then the dagger slices clean through Dasha’s throat.

Time stops.

A choked gasp escapes her lips, blood spilling down her chest in a crimson arc. Her body falls forward onto the table, her lifeblood soaking into the feast below. It splashes against my skin, hot and metallic.

“No!” I scream, lunging forward.

But it’s too late.

Aeson steps past her without a second glance, the blade still gleaming in his hand, his steps soaked in the gore of the only ally I had within these walls.

Behind him, her body slumps from the table to the floor, lifeless.

In the silent seconds that follow, I think this is all but over, that I’ve lost, failing my mate, my pack, everyone…but then the howls begin.

Distant, at first, but quickly coming closer. Growing louder. Dozens of voices in unison. War cries.

My heart leaps at the sound, but it sinks just as quickly.

Because I know what Aeson is thinking. I see it in the way his grin returns.

They’re too far to get to me in time.

“Don’t let those sounds fool you.” His smile widens. “I’m not done with you yet.”

He raises the dagger again, eyes glowing with something inhuman. Something sinister and made from darkness.

He has nothing left to fear .

I brace myself, knowing I have to do something. Quickly. Not only to keep the fight going but to survive.

Because my pack is coming, and they need me just as much as I need them.

I just have to live long enough for them to find me.