Page 77

EZRA

The stench of battle thickened the air, constricting my lungs as I took my first swing towards the fae king, cursing the moment I’d ever met the bastard.

I had stood at his side for years, had killed for him, had bled for him, had offered up my sister to him, thinking I was acting of my own will.

Now, I knew better, and I would spend the rest of my life making up for the horrific acts I’d committed under his influence.

Or I’d die, because I refused to ever be under his thumb again. To ever let him control me again.

“You’ve aligned yourself with a vampyr? Allowed him to sully your mind? You imbecile!”

I didn’t bother answering, and I took another swing, aiming for his jaw. He moved at the last second, the barest shift of his head, and my fist flew past him. Before I could adjust, his knee slammed into my ribs, fast and brutal.

Fuck!

Pain erupted through my stomach, but I’d had worse. At least this was physical. Tangible.

I grabbed his arm before he could slip away and twisted, dragging him down into my next strike. My elbow smashed into his face, landing perfectly.

Alaroth staggered back with a wheeze, and I went for his throat. But he was ready for that one.

A hand snapped up, catching my wrist, and his fist rammed into my gut, driving the air from my lungs. Before I could recover, his other hand gripped my temple—and the world shattered.

A guttural scream ripped from my throat as my body exploded with agony. I knew it wasn’t real, but that didn’t stop it from feeling real.

His magic sunk its claws into my skull, conjuring a pain so complete it felt like my bones were splintering, like my skin was peeling from my flesh, like my organs were melting inside me..

I hit the ground hard, my body convulsing. My vision blurred and darkened as I gasped for breath, but even that didn’t bring me any relief, because my lungs were on fire.

“You fucking idiot.”

His voice dripped with disdain. I could barely make out his form as he crouched beside me, tilting his head and sneering. “You think a vampyr can shield you? Your mind is mine, Ezra. It always has been.”

I grit my teeth, gathering what little strength I could.

“No,”

I snarled. Flames burst from my palms, searing into his chest.

Alaroth hissed as the fire engulfed him, magic wrapping around him like a cloak. I pushed myself up onto four shaky limbs, and tried to force my body into a shift.

Before I could make the transformation, he gripped my head again, sending another onslaught of magical agony, crashing into me tenfold. My form flickering, I bellowed and my fire died. My mind began to bend under his will, twisting, darkening—

Kneel.

The command slithered through my thoughts like a chain reforging. A vice of pain tightened around me, driving me to my knees, and my vision blurred.

I knew this feeling. I knew this collar.

I choked on my own breath. No—no, I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t allow him to control me again. Canna and Marlowe were on the line. Two worlds were on the line.

But his magic was stronger than my will.

My body betrayed me, and my head bowed before the king once more.

He gripped me by my hair, tilting my head back. “You smelly mutt. You really thought you could fight against me? You and your sister are mine. You will take this world and the next, and whatever other realms we come across, because I have claimed you both. You will kill Marlowe’s pack, and…”

Another voice spoke in my mind. A slow, deep growl.

You’re not his bitch anymore, Ezra. Now get the fuck up and fight.

The air shifted, and the scent of dominance crashed over me like a tidal wave, swallowing up the king’s commands and bringing them back out to sea. My mind returned and my body was mine again.

I gasped, my lungs filling painlessly as my eyes snapped open.

Alaroth reeled back, stunned. I smiled as the cracks in his perfect mask began to show, the disbelief clear in his cold, aqua eyes.

His lips parted, struggling to find the words. “That’s—”

He couldn’t finish the sentence, the understanding hitting him.

I was no longer the alpha of alphas.

The presence behind me—heavy, absolute—was.

I forced myself to my feet, trembling but free, and turned towards the figure standing in front of the shifter army.

Camden.

His blue eyes burned with authority, his stance unyielding. He emitted pure power from his frame in a way I don’t think it ever had with me.

“Surprise, asshole,”

Camden said, his voice edged with fury.

Alaroth fumed, unable to speak as he recalculated his plans. How could he fulfill the prophecy to his heart’s content if it was no longer true?

I breathed in, feeling my magic surge back to life.

My fists clenched, and I prepared myself for round two when the king threw his head back and laughed. Alpha shifters moved around us, like river water parting over rocks. They poured into the haven, ripping the fae guards apart with their bare hands.

“Oh Ezra, do you know what this means?”

the king finally said.

I didn’t reply.

“If you’re no longer the alpha from the prophecy, it means I have no use for you.”

He snapped his fingers, the bars keeping the Berserkers contained disappearing, and they headed straight towards Camden, snarling and foaming at the mouth.

Then he held out his hand and a deep shot of pain hit me right in the chest, radiating out and causing me to fall once more.

“It means I can kill you.”