Kane's POV: I stand in the clearing outside the forest, trying my best not to inhale the stench of death. I’m surrounded by Willow’s kills. I still can’t believe one wolf could cause so much carnage. I doubt I’d even be able to kill sixty before a spell took me out…but she was shielded by Alfred and his coven’s magic so that undoubtedly saved her. Jackson comes sauntering out of the forest, carrying a pair of shorts with him. “Here you go, King.” Grateful, I take the clothes and cover myself. Nudity is common during a battle because we switch between wolf and human all the time, but now that I’m standing here doing nothing I feel a little exposed. “Thank you.” Jackson whistles softly as his eyes travel over the scattered remains of the Moon Flower witches. “Willow did all this by herself?” “Yes.” “I didn’t think she had it in her.” “Neither did I to be honest. Do you think Vickus will come?” “I hope so,
Kane’s POV: There is a lull after a battle. Everything goes quiet. It’s when this quiet descends that you are forced to face yourself and what you had to do to keep yourself and your people alive. You have to deal with conflicting emotions – elation because you won, coupled with intense sorrow over the ones you’ve lost, the many losses that are to come, and guilt because you survived. We lost our fair share of warriors. Some I trained with as pup, others were nameless, faceless wolves I’ve never met before, but loved regardless because they were mine. Most werewolves retreat for a while, spending time with their wolves and mates, finding solace in each other’s arms. If their mates died during the battle, they usually follow soon afterward, and the Omegas often find their lifeless bodies in their beds. They just lie down and never wake up again. I don’t have much time to lick my wounds. I hide my own sorrow because I have to. Someone needs to go on, needs to be strong for the rest.
For the first time in many years, I don’t dream. I don’t know if it’s just because of the thing Kane did to me, or because I could take some of my rage out on the witches, but I have never slept this well. Yawning, I sit upright and switch on the light. There are no windows in this room, and I have no idea if it’s day or night. It reminds me of the dungeon and makes me uneasy. Kane was here. I can smell him everywhere, but most strongly on my pillow. He must have been uncomfortable, curled up on this tiny bed with me. I stick my face into the pillow and inhale deeply, losing myself in his scent. It calms me down, takes away my disquiet. Gods, I miss him. My door eases open, and I automatically tense, even though I know who’s on the other side. I can smell him. My senses are definitely improving. “You’re awake,” Nicholas says and gives me a shy smile that seems out of place. “How long have I been asleep?” “Not that long. Maybe twelve hours.”
Kane comes walking up behind me. I catch his eye in the mirror and smile at him. The attraction between us is just getting stronger. Aren’t these feelings supposed to become less intense as time goes on? I don’t know a lot about relationships, but surely you can’t go through life craving another person this much. It’s not healthy, is it? “What?” he asks, and rests his hands on my hips, holding my gaze in the mirror. “I’m just looking at my dress,” I lie and cock my head to the side. “Is something wrong with it?” “I look like a little girl.” “You don’t. You look fresh and beautiful.” “Oh, pfft. You will say that.” “Uh-huh--” he grips my upper arms and leans over to plant a kiss on the side of my face -- “and I mean every word. You really are very beautiful, you know?” The muscles at the bottom of my spine contract, sending cascades of delicious desire through the rest of my body. “Is it supposed to be like this?” I ask,
Kane's POV: “The problem with prophecies,” Lady Blaire says, “is that you often don’t get the full picture. Sometimes, they unfold slowly. Like a story. I should have waited until the gods showed me the full picture.” I growl at the tiresome witch. I’ve been trying to get an answer out of her for the last twenty minutes. Only now, after Alfred and the council left, does she decide to talk. “Stop talking in riddles. What does that mean?” “It means we should have stayed out of it. Should have left Vickus and Moon Flower to burn this place and everything in it to the ground.” “Why?” She gives me a serene smile. “It does not matter now. I’ll be with the gods soon.” “But I won’t. Your witches won’t. Willow won’t.” “That is the problem. Willow won’t. You won’t. The fire that consumes the world is still coming, King.” “We stopped it.” “No,” she breathes. “The fire is yet to be born. Willow will give birth to it.” My heart clenches and I have to force myself to breathe normally. “A c
Kane's POV:The witches aren’t like us. Watching them, I’m starting to understand Willow a little more. They don’t band together as we do, don’t find comfort in each other’s presence. Even the forest witches are like that. Together, but separate. No wonder she thinks she has to do everything alone, fix every problem herself. How terribly lonely her childhood must have been.I watch my mate wander aimlessly, talking to individual witches, but not really communicating with them. I find their interactions very strange. “King,” Susan whispers next to me.“Yes.”“What’s wrong with these people?”“I don’t know.”“Something’s coming,” Jackson says. “Can you feel it?”I nod. It’s in the air. A bitter taste that’s setting my nerves on fire.“Should we do something?” Glenn asks.
Kane's POV: I send Willow up to the apartment, give the Gammas orders to set up a extra guard rotations, and then try to mind link my mother. I haven’t spoken to her in days, but she is blocking me – no doubt pissed at me for throwing her mate in the dungeon. “James.” I turn to my butler. “See if you can find my mother. I need to talk to her.” “She’s in the dungeons with Bismarck, your majesty.” “Of course she is. Okay. You should get some rest too.” He bows and leaves. Off to do whatever it is a butler does. I’m exhausted, and it feels as if an off-key marching band is hammering out a melody against my skull. The pills I gave to Willow when she had her concussion are up in my room – I used to carry them on me at all times, but I forgot about the crippling headaches I used to get before she came into my life. Smiling at the memory of that first day, the way she let her inhibitions go and almost tried to inhale me feet and all. The way she looked at me, tempting Dario to the surfa
I wake slowly, struggling to open my eyes. The sun streaming in through the open windows pushes against my eyelids, and a fresh breeze cools my sweaty body. The air is quiet and clean. Finally managing to drag my lids apart, I turn my head to look at Kane, surprised to see he’s asleep. There are hundreds of witches right on our doorstep, and he… I blush and burn with shame when I remember my meltdown. I showed him my inside, revealed my vulnerabilities. I humiliated and weakened myself before him. Something I’ve never done. I try to roll off the bed, but Kane’s hand shoots out and grabs my wrist. “Where are you going?” he asks without opening his eyes. “To pee,” I snap. “Is that okay with you?” Groaning softly, he sits upright and looks at me. There are deep, black circles under his puffy eyes, and he’s paler than usual. “Don’t do that, Willow.” “Don’t do what? Pee?” “Be ashamed because you…bared your soul. It’s all right. That’s how it should be. I’m your mate…you can trust me.”