Page 34 of Rising Reign (The Wolves of Crescent Creek #3)

WREN

I twisted in the sheets in a battle between waking and sleeping, something pushing at me. A need, I realized. Blood. I craved it. Needed to feel it spilling out over my hands, warm and thick and mine.

I blinked against the darkness of the room, the only glow that of the small night-lights the guys had put in all over the house to make sure I was never alone in the dark.

Only it didn’t scare me like it used to.

It didn’t have the same haunting effect it once did.

Maybe because, for the first time in my life, I felt safe. Because I was never alone in the dark.

My eyes slowly assimilated to the low light all around me until I could make out Locke on one side of me and Brix on the other. My heartbeat stuttered in my chest as I took in Ender on the couch, a blanket pulled over him.

The last thing I remembered was talking with Puck and Clara on the sofa. I knew I must’ve fallen asleep, and someone had likely carried me to bed. I glanced at the bedside clock. It read 3:33 in the morning. I thought of making a wish, but then that weird urge hit me again.

Blood. All of it. Spilling out onto my hands, power coming into me.

I shook my head, trying to clear the pain pulsing there. It wasn’t like the emotions I normally felt. It was more. These were thoughts.

I moved from the bed without thinking—the urge to search out the source was too strong not to.

I stilled at the foot of the bed, looking at the men in the room.

I could’ve woken one, but the thought of trying to explain what I was experiencing stopped me.

Still, I paused by the dresser and pulled out the knife that had become my safety blanket.

Slipping from the room, I moved to the top of the stairs and stilled. I tried to picture where everyone was staying. The four guards down and to the left, along with Clara. Puck and Kingston, likely in their rooms, down and to the right. Rhys and Hera on the first floor and to the right.

I closed my eyes and searched for the feelings, the thoughts. The ache in my head intensified. To the right. I could feel it. Almost like a glowing beacon.

My stomach twisted, and a sick feeling made a home there. Rhys. He might not drink human blood, but that didn’t mean he didn’t crave it. Maybe I was feeling his dream.

I slipped down the stairs to the second floor and stilled again, searching. The feeling didn’t seem like it was coming from the lower floor; it felt as though it were coming from this one. My feet were already moving, telling me something my brain didn’t yet understand.

I moved to the right toward Kingston’s and Puck’s bedrooms, stopping between them as I tried to pin down the exact location. But I didn’t need my gift; I only needed my eyes. The door to Puck’s room was slightly ajar.

Everything in me stilled as my hold on the blade tightened. I flipped it open on instinct, moving toward the open door. The moment I slipped inside, my blood ran cold.

Puck lay sprawled in the bed like a starfish, mouth slightly open and breathing so deeply I knew he was oblivious to everything. But a figure stalked toward him, broad and shadowed, a knife clenched in their hand.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I growled.

The figure whirled, the moonlight hitting his face and illuminating red hair and a beard. Shock swept through me at the sight of Archie, one of Clara’s guards. His face twisted with sheer hatred. “You think some submissive mate of Clara’s worthless brother is going to stop me?”

I moved into a fighting stance. “Oh, I’ll do more than stop you. I’ll make you wish you were never born.”

Archie scoffed. “Please. Puck is a waste of space. His brother would’ve been the ultimate alpha if Puck wouldn’t have gotten in his way. But Clara is worthy, at least. And I won’t have Puck deciding he wants to reclaim the throne.”

Anger surged at the guard’s moronic reasoning. Puck wanted nothing to do with the throne or his old pack. And he was clearly the more dominant wolf, given the fact that he’d defeated his brother all those years ago. But, sometimes, there was no reasoning with blind loyalty.

Archie charged, counting on his size and speed to win. But I was quicker. I lifted my blade and hurled it at him. Shock widened Archie’s eyes, but his reaction time was too slow. The blade struck true, right in the guard’s left eye.

He let out a choked sound for a single second and then collapsed to the floor in a heap. It was then that I realized the bloodlust was gone. Snuffed out with Archie.

Then a deep voice sounded from behind me. “Not bad, Kitten.”