Page 4 of Bound to Four Alphas (Silverthorn Alphas #1)

A pack.

The words reverberated through him, shock and anger coalescing into a deep rumbling within his chest. A pack.

A fucking pack.

Elian’s face, normally smug enough that Ronan wanted to break his jaw, was set in grim determination. The serious expression on the normally so mischievous Fae was enough to send a small tendril of fear through his stomach.

The magic, fizzing and crackling down his skin, was burning itself off, the silver glow sparking before fading away. The other alphas, the dragon king and the monster bastard, were staring in disbelief at their hands.

Let them. He would be getting answers one way or another.

“I already have a fucking pack,” he growled, stalking towards Elian, the slippery alpha jumping out of range of his fists, “so why don’t you tell me what the hell we’re supposed to do about this before I break your fucking —”

The fresh scent of fear, thick and choking, stopped him dead in his tracks.

He turned back to her. To the omega bound to the tree, eyes wide and limbs trembling as she tried to back as far away from him as her bonds would allow.

Well, fuck.

Ronan’s desire to pummel Elian into the ground faded, a sharp spike of anxiety replacing it at the distress of the little omega. She was hurt, cold, terrified of all of them. And that bothered him more than he liked for one who wasn’t a member of his clan.

Kaelen seemed to recover his ability to talk, pushing past Ronan to tower over the girl, eyes blazing with fury. “Did you do this?”

The growl that ripped free from Ronan’s throat at Kaelen’s menacing voice surprised even him.

The girl’s eyes darted back to him, and he realized they were silver.

“Back off, wolf,” snapped Kaelen, tearing his attention away. “She clearly has something to do with what happened, and I want to know what it is. I’ll be damned if I’m bound to the likes of you .”

“I d-didn’t do anything,” stuttered the girl, her voice hoarse, “I promise, I didn’t. Please, just … just let me go!’

“I’m afraid we can’t do that, sweetness,” Ronan said, crossing his arms over his chest, “not until we get this mess straightened out.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly at the pet name, and Ronan couldn’t help the grin that carved itself onto his face. So perhaps underneath all that dirt and fear, she had a spark of defiance within her.

“Do you think if I had any kind of power at all that I would be tied up to this tree?” The girl shifted, bristling, the action causing the hem of her thin nightgown to bunch up her legs. They were nearly blue with cold, harsh slashes of red from various injuries littering her skin.

Ronan growled again, and she shuffled back in fright. He nearly reached for her then, some strange desire within him commanding him to take her into her arms, to warm her, to say that he would never do anything to harm her.

He shook his head. It was like he was a pup again, drunk on the scent of some omega in heat, chasing after them and earning himself a smack across the jaw from an older alpha.

But he wasn’t a pup anymore. And he couldn’t deny the scent wafting from the girl in front of him was nothing short of intoxicating. He wanted nothing more than to bury his hands in her dark hair, feel her soft flesh beneath him, bury himself into her tight, wet —

“Fucking hell, Ronan, keep it to yourself,” muttered Kaelen, and Ronan glanced over to see the dragon’s eyes fixed resolutely on the omega. But he also saw the flare of his nostrils, the slight tense of his muscles. It seemed as if he wasn’t the only one entranced by the girl.

“Silver birch,” murmured Malek, and Ronan turned to see the monster staring at the girl with naked awe, his inhuman face earnest. “You’re tied to a silver birch.”

The girl stilled, and Ronan scented the thrum of fear as she stared at Malek. “So what?”

Malek didn’t reply, but he reached for her, claws extending. When she shrank back, he stilled, a frisson of sorrow running through him. Ronan had smelled that on him before. Sometimes, on his patrols of the woods, he came across the monster king at the border of his territory. Malek often paused, black eyes lighting up slightly at seeing him, but that excitement always died away as Ronan stayed in his wolf form, growling at him to back off the territory line.

Once or twice, he had gotten the sense that perhaps the monster would have liked to talk. But Ronan couldn’t risk it. If any of Malek’s nightmares sensed weakness, they would descend on the wolves like the fall of night.

So the monster always slunk back into the forest, melting into the shadows from whence he was born.

Elian clapped his hands together, apparently unable to go a single moment without being the center of attention, and the sharp sound stung Ronan’s sensitive ears. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Think of what?” snapped Kaelen. He normally had much more patience for the Fae than Ronan, but apparently, even the dragon had his limits.

Elian’s smirk was nearly feral with excitement. “Of course, I forget none of you were alive during the reign of the Forest God.”

Ronan snarled, fists clenching, loathing that Elian’s smile grew brighter at having gotten a reaction. “Spit it out, Fae.”

“All in good time, mongrel.”

When Ronan’s fist connected with Elian’s jaw, there was no spark of lightning forcing them apart, shocking them with pain. And Ronan decided to take full advantage.

To his credit, Elian didn’t melt back into the shadows, evading the attack. His green eyes flashed and then there were two wickedly sharp daggers in his hands, his arms raised in defiance. “Come on then, I know you’ve been desperate for this.”

Ronan took the bait. He lunged forward, teeth bared, ready to strike —

Kaelen intercepted him.

“Get off me,” Ronan roared, shoving Kaelen from him, desperate to reach that smug little Fae prick so he could finally knock some sense into him.

“Back off,” yelled Kaelen, bracing to stop Ronan’s lunge. “If Elian’s right, we’ve just been bonded together. The magic is fragile, you could be killed if you attack him.” Kaelen narrowed his eyes, glancing over to an incredibly smug Elian. “Not that I blame you for wanting to.”

Ronan snarled at Elian, fully intending on ignoring Kaelen and attacking the Fae, magic be damned, when a soft, floral scent broke him from his rage.

He turned.

Malek had used the distraction to creep to the girl’s side, and he was currently removing the last of the rope that had held her with a gentleness Ronan wouldn’t have believed him capable of. The girl stood with shaky legs, rubbing at her shredded wrists, her sweet gratitude thick in the air.

Then, with speed and aim impressive even by his standards, she swung her arm around and punched Malek square in the jaw with a rock. And took off running towards the trees.

They stood in shock for a brief moment, Malek touching a clawed hand to his face with something akin to wonder, before Elian burst out laughing.

“Fucking hell, she’s got fire,” he managed to stutter out. “Is one of you going to get her, or should I?”

Ronan was just about to step forward before Kaelen pushed past him with a set jaw, the irritation clear on his face. “I’ll do it.”

Ronan hung back as the dragon King stalked after the retreating figure of the girl, his quick strides more than fast enough to catch up with her, limping and injured as she was. Ronan squashed down the feeling of discomfort at the thought. He didn’t like that she would be hurting.

“How long before we help him?” Elian asked, still chuckling. “How’s the face, Malek?”

Malek just blinked, his gaze not leaving the girl’s form. “Incredible.”

Ronan rolled his eyes. “Come on, before Kaelen lectures her to death.”

He took off at a steady stride, Elian and Malek following, the former pestering the latter with incessant questions about the Forest God and the monsters and the magic of the land. Malek didn’t answer, and Ronan could smell his apprehension. That didn’t stop Elian, who it seemed was making up for centuries of being denied an audience with the monster king.

It was no surprise, really. Not when it was an open secret what the Benellane Fae did to any monsters they caught.

As they reached the tree line, they were greeted by shouts and scuffling.

“This should be good,” said Elian. Ronan ignored him.

When they finally reached Kaelen, he had the girl gripped by the arms. She was hissing and scratching at him like a wild cat, writhing in her attempt to get free. Kaelen was avoiding the worst of her strikes, his large form easily subduing her. Ronan couldn’t deny his amusement at the look of strained impatience on the dragon’s face.

“Need a hand?” asked Elian, and the girl bucked harder, Kaelen wincing as her elbow clipped his side.

“No, we’re quite alright here, thank you.”

The girl screeched in outrage and redoubled her efforts, battering her little hands against Kaelen’s chest, the metal buckles on his leather doublet catching her injured wrists and reopening her wounds.

“ Omega ,” roared Kaelen, and the girl instantly stilled in his arms, limbs freezing as if enchanted, “you are injuring yourself. Calm down before I make you calm down.”

The girl hissed, but settled in his arms, her eyes narrowing as her gaze swung between Ronan, Elian, and Malek.

The Fae stepped forward, and the hair on Ronan’s arms stood up. Malek, too, seemed to bristle, shifting his weight. Kaelen reared back slightly. And then Ronan saw why.

Shadows were gathering at Elian’s feet, swirling and reaching out in dark tendrils, his golden skin practically glowing through the darkness. The air thrummed with magic.

He’d heard rumors. Everyone had. Elian, heir to the throne of the Marble Halls, son of Phaendar the Blight, commanded a dark magic beyond anything the realm had ever seen. Ronan had only witnessed the shadow magic when Elian used it to make mischief, flitting in and out of trees, teasing and roguish. Not this. Nothing like this.

The girl turned deathly still as the shadows reached her neck, curling around her, almost caressing her chest. Then, as quickly as they appeared, they retreated, and Elian’s mischievous smile was loose on his face.

“So, it seems our little dove here isn’t officially a member of our pack,” said Elian brightly, skipping over to the girl, boyish curls falling into his eyes. “But she is the root of it. It’s official!’ He spun around, raising an eyebrow at Ronan. “I’m out of my depth. We need an expert opinion.”

“What the hell do you suggest?” asked Ronan, eyes flitting to the girl still locked safe in Kaelen’s arms.

“The temple,” said Malek suddenly, “to the south. The temple of the Forest God. The priestesses still worship there. They might know what to do.”

“Excellent suggestion,” said Elian. “I suggest the five of us travel south to the temple. Any objections?”

Ronan glanced at Kaelen and the dragon glared back, his mouth pressed in a thin line.

“No? Wonderful! In that case, we should set off right away.” Elian turned back to Kaelen and the girl, a strange glint in his eyes. “But there’s one more thing.”

He sauntered closer to the omega, and Ronan fought to subdue the growl rising in his chest, but Elian merely crouched down so that he was at eye level with the girl.

“What’s your name, little dove?”

The girl hesitated, fear and pain and anger flashing across her face. But then she released a breath, and instead glared at Elian with almost haughty displeasure.

“Selena. My name is Selena.”