Lexa
I keep my hand tucked in the crook of Kaleb’s arm as he guides us through the crowd, ignoring the glances, the underhanded comments in a language I don’t understand but know he does. Most people give us a wide berth. Many of the women hide their mouths with fans, their jewels sparking in the light of dozens of crystal chandeliers. I can’t help but notice the copious amount of food going to waste on long, opulently decorated tables, not so much as a bite taken from several dishes.
My stomach curls at the thought of the kids who race into the pack house every morning to collect their family’s daily rations of grains, milk, and meat. It’s never enough. The people of the Glade have never had enough.
I nearly trip over my own feet when Kaleb comes to a rough stop, like he didn’t expect it, and turns to a tall fae man–a trio of them, actually–the only seemingly friendly faces in the ballroom so far.
“Alpha King,” says one of them–a man who looks to be in his late forties. At least, he could be, but he could also be several hundred years old by this point. The bob of his head rocks me to my center.
Kaleb returns the gesture and seems to relax a touch, and I realize with a start these men must be friends with Silas. It’s the only explanation given our cold reception by the crowd at large.
“He didn’t say where he was going, only that he had business to attend to outside of the city,” Kaleb says while I stand at his side, discreetly scanning the crowd for locks of fiery red hair.
“He said the same to us,” High Lord Everett says under his breath, nursing his drink. “I worry he might be doing something reckless in the wake of the death of his victor.”
“Chessie,” I say absently, and all three fae lords turn to me. I look at them, emotionless, waiting for a reprimand that doesn’t come.
“Chessie,” Lord Everett corrects, his silver-blue eyes softening in silent apology.
I turn back to the crowd, ignoring the conversation again, and see her once more.
Meg floats like she owns the place, and honestly, she might. She smiles at everyone, her beauty shining like a beckon while fae men stop to stare and fae women titter excitedly over her bejeweled gown.
I move on instinct, a predator stalking its prey, but I trained her. She knows. She knows I’ve slipped from Kaleb’s side, off my leash, and I’m now sidestepping through the crowd in her wake.
She stops to talk to a group of men, her sponsor following behind like a dutiful suitor. I stand still, guests passing between us as if in slow motion while music rips through the air in a dizzying, distorted cacophony.
She looks back at me, down her nose at me, taunting me with a smile. I shake my head. All this time. All this time I knew there was something about Meg I didn’t like, that I didn’t trust. She was never a team player–always the most aggressive, the most violent, but only when it benefited her specifically. Her smiles were always fake, weren’t they? The secrets she swore to keep were always leaked. I gave her the benefit of the doubt every time. I trusted her.
Chessie trusted her.
Chessie loved her.
I’m going to fucking kill her.
A booming voice cuts through the music, and I turn, looking for the source. I look up, and there on the balcony stands the king in all his splendor, beaming down at the crowd. He speaks in the fae tongue, something I ignore, and I turn back to Meg, but she’s gone.
Shit.
Fury rages through me as I slowly turn back to the balcony, scanning the crowd for any sign of her. I try to spot Kaleb in the crowd as it swarms forward, everyone jostling for a better view, but I’m caught in its center.
Several people gasp, and excited applause rings out, adding to the sudden rush of chaos, and I’m squished, tripping over gowns and shoes as the fray keeps pushing toward the balcony.
I lift my chin, out of breath, as the king beams at the crowd, but then he looks to the side of the room and that smile turns villainous.
“Alpha King Kaleb of the Glade,” he says in the dead tongue–the language of my people, of his enslaved people. His tone sends a shiver up my spine–so sickly sweet I can taste it for what it is–fake. Fake and menacing. I rise on my toes, trying to catch a glimpse of Kaleb, and it’s not hard to do. He towers over most of the fae men despite their already unnatural height, and his eyes meet mine, a flash of relief sweeping across his face.
He’d been looking for me, too.
But then the king booms, “With tonight being a night of celebration across Pantharas in honor of our sacred games, I must also bestow a gift upon you and your people, shouldn’t I? It doesn’t seem fair that while we drink wine and dance that your kind must continue to grovel, especially on such a fine full moon, not that they can even see it past the rain.”
Kaleb’s expression tightens. His eyes darken as he glares up at the king.
The king continues, his voice dropping to something low and teasing. “I should let them feel their wolves tonight, don’t you think? Alpha King? Let your people… feel the bonds I keep at bay?”
Kaleb’s jaw flexes, his eyes suddenly wild with a damning kind of panic I feel in my bones. Dread. Pure dread casts his face in shadow as the king sweeps his hand through the air in a show of glimmer silver light. He told me about this, how they’re allowed to feel their wolfish gifts so rarely most couples are already with children by the time they feel the mate bond, how it causes chaos and breaks families when it happens. I try to move in his direction, but my body jolts with a sudden, sharp awareness that forces me to stand completely still. It feels like all the air has been suddenly sucked from the room.
It’s like being punched in the chest. The air leaves my lungs in a whoosh as my wolf awakens, groggy, confused, trying to claw back to life. I clasp my chest as another shocking, all-consuming sense funnels through my body, like ropes of gold rushing through my veins, heavy and… everywhere.
The noise in the ballroom blurs. Everyone is moving so fast, whizzing past me like I’m stuck in time, like minutes are passing as if they are mere seconds. My heart lurches, pulling me in a singular direction, and I slowly turn, my skin prickling, my senses flooding to awareness, and… there he is, standing shellshocked as the fine, delicate golden threads of our mate bond snap into place.
Across an ocean. A turbulent, furious sea. Over mountains and valleys. Behind a wall, a gate. We found each other against impossible odds.
Kaleb stares at me, his mouth slightly ajar and pupils blown so wide I can’t even see the color of his irises anymore.
The ball moves on without us while we just… stare at each other.
My mate.
My mate.
I gasp for breath as reality comes crashing down around me like I’ve just been suspended in midair, stuck in the feeling of my wolf returning, unable to find my footing on solid ground. My corset bites into my skin, preventing my lungs from expanding like I desperately need them to. I claw at my bodice, torn between keeping a low profile and panic, while each thread snaps into place, one by one. His scent, even from this distance, hits me like a freight train. The memory of his touch on my skin makes my skin feverish, so hot I can barely stand it.
I’m dying. I have to be dying. I can’t breathe.
Kaleb is suddenly at my side, yanking me through the crowd. I gasp again, drawing in a single gulp of air before he whisks me through a darkened doorway, behind a curtain, and into a hallway used by servants, who leap out of our way while he sprints, dragging me with him.
When we breach the front garden of the castle, the cool, damp night air fans over my skin. I can’t even take in my surroundings. Time moves out of control, and I have no idea where we are, whether we’ve left the castle grounds or not, when we pass under a stone bridge into a side street cloaked in shadow, and rows and rows of pearly white estate houses come into view.
Kaleb picks me up at some point, racing through the night, his grip tight and steady while we pass under a second bridge and the woods–trees–rise around us, peaking over tall white stone walls.
Only when we turn into a narrow private street between two large manors does he set me down, grasping my hand, and pushing open a gate leading into a courtyard in front of a regal mansion made of alabaster and marble, all of the lights dimmed, the rooms within empty.
“Where are we?” I gasp, my mouth impossibly dry.
“Silas’s house,” he grinds out, his tone edging on fury as he pushes through a side door, and suddenly we’re wrapped in glistening dark wood and velvet.
He closes the door behind us. A hallway expands into the shadows of the quiet, seemingly empty house. He presses me against a door, his hands steadying my hips while I gape like a fish, unable to process what’s happening.
He draws a knife from his belt, and I become totally, completely still.
He meets my gaze, holding, his eyes so dark they’re nearly black. With a surgeon’s precision, he slowly draws the tip of the blade down the center of the bodice, cutting through the thick fabric and boning like butter, all while his eyes remain on mine–wild, damn near feral with need.
His blade cuts to my bellybutton, each snag of fabric reverberating through my bones. Sweat prickles along my hairline despite the chill now seeping into my skin, every fine, downy hair on my body standing on end under his gaze.
We should talk about this. I know we’re both thinking it. Mates. We’re mates–fated mates.
“Is this a trick?” I whisper, and it’s all I can manage. “Did the king–did he do this to us?”
“No,” Kaleb replies, slowly drawing the blade away. I jerk in surprise when he grips the bodice and tears it open, my breasts bouncing free. He hisses out a hungry breath, his gaze lowering to my skin, to my peaked nipples.
“Are you going to reject me?”
His eyes meet mine in the dimmed light of the sconces behind us.
His answer is his mouth on mine in a fiery, damning kind of kiss. A kiss that seals our fate. He grips my hip as he turns the doorknob, the door opening behind me, and backs me into the shadows of a private stairwell–unlit. I have no idea where it leads, but it doesn’t matter, not when he’s clawing away the remains of the bodice, tearing the fabric free from my body, ignoring the laces entirely. Fuck the dress. Fuck everything. I whine in defeat when the skirt doesn’t come free as easily, but he tears it from my waist, tossing it behind him into the shadows. I claw at his shirt while he shrugs out of his jacket, buttons popping and pinging against the walls, and then I’m on my back against the stairs, stone biting into my spine, but all I can feel is Kaleb, his hands on my naked skin as he roughly pulls my panties to the side with one hand while unfastening his belt with the other.
His shirt hangs off his shoulders, his muscled chest on full display, every cord of solid muscle catching the fight glow of exterior lighting bleeding to the window at the landing above us. I watch his chest rise and fall while he hesitates, his hand on his belt buckle, his other drawing a circle over my clit that makes me shiver, arching my hips to meet his touch. I’m soaked for him. So wet I feel my desire dripping onto his hand when he parts my folds, pressing his fingers inside me.
“Please,” I beg, my voice a shattered whisper. His eyes meet mine, and I see his answer there. He’s going to deny me again. But why?