Captured by the Alpha King

Tara and Clare recommend that we meet together for lunch since the ball didn't provide us much of an opportunity to converse.at an eatery for people.I endured salads and the main course, and right now, while I sip my drink, I'm trying not to ask my own sisters whether their husbands are aware of where they are."And that's what they were discussing at the Ella," said the speaker. Clare snaps, gesturing with her palm toward my face.“Sorry. It's too many mimosas. That is false. I've had two of those, and I'm not even drunk. I make an effort to pay attention to what she says. She said something about remodeling her master bathroom. You said before that they couldn't knock down a wall."Are you alright?" Tara questions me sincerely.Do I tell them that after the ball, my head is all over the place? Because I'm unsure of my place in the pack? Because if my closest friends don't trust me after that, my sisters may not either. Their spouses also don't appear to be great supporters of the

The full moon is a holy time for werewolves. Much in the way humans might dress nicely and congregate at a house of worship, a werewolf pack gathers for their own ceremonies together. For the Toronto pack, the place we gather is about an hour and a half northwest of Toronto. Long before Canada was New France, back in the days when our ancestors fled northern Europe in longboats, a pack inhabited a small village in the area, on what is now two-hundred acres of unspoiled land we can safely roam as the creatures we become every full moon.The transformation ceremony takes place in the ancient circle of standing stones built over five centuries before Columbus could erroneously claim the first European steps onto the North American continent. The three stones bear tributes to the gods of our pack: Fenrir, the wolf who will devour Odin at Ragnarök, Lycaon, the cruel king punished by Zeus, and Lupa, she-wolf mother of Romulus and Remus. Once, the circle stood in a forest clearing. Now, i

This can’t be transpiring.I sit up and yank the note from Mother’s hand. “You went through my purse?”“What do you think you’re doing?” she hisses, disregarding my query. “You are in a mating pact. You can’t see another man behind your fiancé’s back!”“I’m not seeing anyone. I’m sure you read it. It’s an invitation to make up for—”“It is an invitation to gossip. To scandal and ruin.” She grabs the card back and rips it in half, then in half again before dropping the pieces onto the carpet. “How long has this been going on?”“How long has this been going on?” I almost argue that I’ve only been home for a few days, but then I remember that as far as everyone else in the pack is concerned, I could be a spy for Greater London. Maybe she thinks I was banging the king like a drum there, long before he seized the throne here.Maybe she thinks I have something to do with him taking over the pack.“You know exactly what I’m asking,” Mother insists. “How long have you and the king been seeing

He follows that bombshell with, “I hope you like venison.”I stumble into the dining room, where a large table is set for two at one end.“It’s very fresh,” he goes on. “I hunted it myself during the full moon.”I can’t get past his earlier announcement. “You did it?”“Well, you know. The only things to do during the full moon are fuck, fight, or hunt.” He pulls a chair out for me and I sit obediently, out of habit.“I’m not talking about the deer!” I lean toward him as he sits and for some reason, I lower my voice like we’re in danger of being overheard. “You conjured the Right of Accord? Your pack has a Right of Accord?”He nods and lifts his hand to signal the staff for the first course. As the thralls place bowls of pale cream soup in front of us, Owen elaborates. “All packs operate under the same law, given to us by Lycaon the Younger. Didn’t they teach that in school?”I shake my head. “I assumed pack law was just the law of our pack.”“Hmiders for a moment. “Don toon teach chil

I’m in my room when Tara arrives, and she chirps into the intercom that she’s coming up. Even as kids, we never had to share our space, but we’re all in that my that's that girl's hate Even though Tara and Clare have moved out, their bedrooms are still there, though they’ve been redecorated a bit removed fairy lights and school trophies.My door creaks open and I sit up on my bed, tossing aside my book. “Hey.”“Hey,” she says, and sighs deeply, sliding her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and rocking on her heels.“That bad, huh?” I try to laugh as I swing my legs over the side of the bed, but the mood in the room is somewhere between “right before you find out grandma died” and “the sex talk with your parents.”Not that I’ve experienced either; our grandparents are all still alive and probably have a good hundred years left, and Mother has probably never even said the word “sex” out loud.“You can sit down,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Stop acting like you’re here to break bad n