Masuk“Hand over your human slaves, and we will leave you unharmed,” Marion retorts.“We’re not slaves!” one of the women says over the female werewolf’s shoulder. “Please don’t hurt them,” she says, eyeing the silver weapons and our Sun Warriors patches nervously. “They’re our friends.”My mind immediate
NatashaIt’s strange to be on a run with Marion instead of Sebastian. I didn’t want to leave him after all our promises to each other this morning. He’s exactly the kind of man I’ve always dreamed of being with: someone who protects his people and fights back against those who threaten them.Someone
Sebastian kisses me again, this time parting my lips to deepen the kiss, his tongue expressing maybe more than he could with words. I don’t want him to stop, but he does, just like he did last night.“Still,” he says, “can we wait until I’m healed to tell her about us? Just in case she attacks me,”
NatashaI wake up to the gentle snoring I’ve only sometimes heard through my tent wall.This time it’s in my ear.I open my eyes to the inside of Sebastian’s tent and the memory of him asking me to stay the night.The memory of his body on top of mine, his lips finally on mine, his hand on my breast
The truth of it is reflected back at me in Isaiah’s eyes, filled with longing and grief. Natasha may not be dead, but she’s no longer with us, and her absence is a never-ending, gaping hole.“Either Owen is in pain without her,” I remind Isaiah, “or Natasha is in pain while they’re together and she’
DiegoAs the spare heir, the overlooked prince, and the abandoned little brother who I’ve trained everyone to see as nothing but a silly little playboy, I’ve had my fair share of pain. Of being discounted.Tossed aside.But none of it hurts quite as much as this. My own brother, not even caring enou
Amelia“It’s not the arrowhead, just the fact that the weapon was made of silver,” Prince Owen replies, as if it’s a sufficient response.“Okay... so why is it significant that the weapon was made of silver?” My question echoes slightly down the pitch-black tunnel over the sounds of our steps.“What
OwenI discard the piece of my shirt that I had wrapped around Amelia’s hand, examining the wound further. I reach for the salve to stave off infection, but I hesitate. Since I couldn’t see exactly what it was that cut her, I don’t know what might have mixed in with her blood.“I think we better was
OwenI knock on Amelia’s bedroom door and wait.She opens it a sliver to see who it is. When our eyes meet, she doesn’t open it any wider.I suppose I deserve that.Her blue eyes are guarded, and my heart clenches at the sight. Knowing my accusations, my walking away from her did that.“Change into
He asks many questions then.When did this happen? Where does the passageway lead to? Who else knows about it?On and on, his questions seem endless. I answer every single one, feeling quite guilty that I didn’t tell him about this sooner.Father leans back in his chair, the burden of all this new i







