Page 4 of The Forbidden Dragon King (Shadow Kings #1)

I love my Omega dynamic with the ability to purr and smell scents more keenly. Yet I’ve been denied those needs as well, for example, not being allowed to build a nest or mate.

To me, the Mark should be a badge of pride. To the Alphaholes in the Moon Court, however, it’s one of shame.

But then, underestimating Omegas has led to one sitting with a banned book amidst the destruction of their prince’s room. So, who’s been shamed as the fool, huh?

I flip through the pages feverishly.

“Poison.” I skim my shaky finger over the spells. “Power. Protection .”

My pulse speeds up. I take a deep breath to steady myself.

This is it. I have to get this right.

I’ll only get one chance.

I furrow my brow, memorizing the runes. Then I lift my finger to my mouth and bite .

Pain shoots through me, as I break the skin. The coppery tang mingles with my natural scent of a summer rose in full bloom.

I pull myself up on unsteady feet. My head is spinning.

I concentrate hard, bending over to scrawl the beautiful runes with my blood onto the flowing skirts of my dress.

Almost done…

Suddenly, I hear yells and crashes somewhere close by. This time, from inside the palace itself.

The bedroom darkens with shadows.

The hairs rise on the back of my neck. A chill runs down my spine.

In their shifted form, Shadow Wolves are primal and dark. They are the true warriors of the Shadow Realms.

Merciless.

I can’t hold back the terrified sob, as the padded footfalls of a pack of wolves echo down the corridor outside the bedroom.

Only two more runes to draw…

Haunting ululations make me jump.

I let out another sob, as my finger is no longer bleeding enough to draw the runes. I lift my hand to my mouth and savagely bite my thumb. I barely register the pain beneath the white noise of terror.

Then I scrawl the next rune… then the final one .

The runes flare to life in a glowing, golden blaze of magic.

I slam my hand over my mouth .

Be silent, Spark. Don’t let these Alphaholes catch you. You’re scentless now.

I creep to the weapons again, this time lifting the spear. It’s light but almost as tall as I am.

I weigh it in my hand, satisfied.

This Omega won’t be fangless anymore.

Then I slide silently to lean against the wall, trying to control my trembling.

I quieten my breathing.

Don’t come in here. It’s the prince’s room. Off-limits. Please…

To my horror, a wolf’s jaws with the lips peeled back into a snarl, nudge the door open. Thick black shadows coil around its fangs, licking the air, as if tasting for my scent.

I forget how to breathe.

This is it.

How I die.

Shadow Gods, forgive me for everything that I’ve stolen and pretty much everything I’ve said and done. Particularly, the creative cussing. But I regret nothing. I can’t say this life has been fun. Screw it, can I be reincarnated as something better next time like a Fae Queen or a cat?

The wolf sniffs, long and deep.

I close my eyes, biting my lip. My hand clutches the shaft of the spear hard enough to whiten my knuckles.

Let the runes hide my scent.

A deep, rumbling growl fills the room.

I crack one eye open. My stomach roils with dread .

The wolf pulls back, however, retreating into the corridor. I still hardly dare to pull oxygen into my lungs as I listen to its footfalls.

I stroke my fingers down the glowing runes on the dress. “Thanks, Shadow Fae. I owe you.”

I rush to the wardrobe, running my finger over Bard’s warm clothes again. Perhaps, I shouldn’t ignore them. It’s only spring, and nights can still be cold. How much more freezing will they be in the ice and frost lands of the fae?

My gaze settles on a rich, scarlet woolen cloak with a hood, which is held together at the neck by a bronze wolf clasp. I guess that it’s Bard’s favorite because he wears it on ceremonial days. His dad gifted it to him.

I’ve stood at the back of the Great Hall, while Bard stood at the front next to King Ulf looking every inch a princely Alpha in this cloak.

I drag it out of the wardrobe and shrug it over my shoulders, where it trails behind me like the train of a bloodied wedding dress.

I can’t resist burying my nose in the cloak to take a long sniff of Bard’s woodsy scent to settle myself.

Then I lift up my chin, even as I struggle to drag the spear with me. I march to the window, yanking it open. I swing one leg out, looking down at the wild woods and cliffs that lead to the fae borders beyond.

In the chaos of the Mate Hunts, while everyone else is distracted claiming and rutting their Omegas, this is my chance to escape.

There is one rule drilled into all of us: Never make a deal with fae .

I guess that I’ve blown that by doing blood rune magic and swearing that I owe them.

Still, if it saves my neck tonight, then it’s worth it.

Dying later is better than dying now, which is a mantra that I live…or maybe die…by.

I’m going to make a deal with the fae in order to request asylum.

The dragons are attempting to break every kingdom, from the southern vampires to the northern fae, like they’ve already broken the wolves. I can’t run to them. I’m not the kneeling sort, and the fae are the types of rogues who may welcome an outcast like me.

Lingering looks and the draw of Prince Bard’s woodsy scent isn’t enough. Omegas like me don’t get the happily ever after of a pack.

I swing myself fully onto the windowsill. The moon is high and bright and sharp.

It hurts my eyes.

Tonight, everyone expects me to die in the Mate Hunt. It’s been the joke from the moment that I turned twenty-one last month through the Moon Court.

If the Alphas want to catch me as their prey, then the predators will have to up their game in the chase.

I won’t bare my neck, however, and submit to my death like I’m meant to.

Instead, I’ll surprise everyone by running.