Chapter 2

The alpha camp lay in a valley deep in the forest, with a broad courtyard and an old stone building. Surrounded by trees, it was easy to miss.

I wore a brown jacket and black jeans, my red hair tied back in a ponytail. Hardly anyone would have guessed I was a princess. They might even mistake me for a human girl—I had no wolf scent at all.

The smell of blood hit me the moment I stepped through the gate.

My next breath caught before I could stop it. The metallic tang caught in the back of my throat.

Two men came toward me with a body between them.

One man held him under the arms; the other supported his legs. His head lolled back, blood smeared from his mouth down to his collar.

“Get him back to his pack before he starts stinking,” the man at his shoulders said.

I moved out of their way. The dead man's arm swung loose, his fingers passing inches from my bag.

“What happened to him?” I asked.

The man holding his legs looked up. His gaze traveled from my face to my luggage.

“New arrival?”

“Does that change the answer?”

He tipped his chin toward the body.

“He challenged the wrong person. Around here, that can get you killed.”

“Who did he challenge?”

“Ezra Locke.” The name came out with an emphasis that suggested I should have known better than to ask. “You haven't heard of him?”

“I'm beginning to.”

“People know better than to challenge him. This idiot said he'd win the princess. Started making jokes about what he'd do with her once he had her in bed.”

Heat climbed into my face. For a moment, I was glad the dead man's eyes were closed.

“That's all he said?”

The man shook his head. “I skipped the part that got him killed.”

His companion shifted his grip on the dead man's shoulders. “Everyone knows Locke means to have her.”

“And Locke killed him for that?”

“Locke punched him once.”

I looked at the blood stiffening the man's collar.

One punch.

The man at his shoulders jerked his head toward the gate. “Come on. We aren't standing here all day.”

My stomach tightened as I watched them carry the body away. A man was dead, and they spoke of me as though I were a prize Locke had already won.

Apparently, my potential husband killed people when he lost his temper. The dead man had been an asshole, but that hardly made Locke any better.

I didn't move until their footsteps faded.

A breeze pushed through the gate, cold against the sweat beneath my jacket. Beyond the buildings, someone shouted across the training ground. Another voice answered with a laugh.

Father could keep waiting for me to turn back. I peeled the bag's handles from my cramped fingers and faced the dormitory instead.

“Registration?”

The woman behind the desk pushed a register toward me. “Name?”

“Ari Wren.”

I signed the alias Father and I had agreed on. She checked my name against the approved list, then wrote down my room number.

“Leave your bag in your room, then report to the instructor outside.” She held my gaze. “And one more thing—don't expect special treatment because you're a woman.”

“Fine by me. I'd rather they remember I'm competing.” I picked up my bag and headed upstairs.

The bedroom smelled of old wool. My dusty trousers brushed the bed frame as I dropped the bag beside it and unfastened the buckles. There would be time to unpack after reporting in.

I'd barely stepped outside when I heard a distant howl and the scrape of claws against stone. Probably just a wolf romping around camp.

But as I headed toward the training ground, the scraping drew closer. I stopped, trying to work out where it was coming from. Before I could, a huge white wolf came charging around the corner.

For a moment, I could only stare at the sheer size of him. Then his jaws opened, and I stumbled backward, my hand lifting uselessly between us. I hadn't even found my footing when he sprang.

The impact knocked the breath out of me. My back struck the path, pain jolting through my shoulders as white fur filled my vision.

I threw an arm across my throat and shoved at his chest with my other hand, my fingers catching in his thick fur. He barely moved. His forepaws planted themselves on either side of my shoulders, claws scraping the stone beside my head.

“Wait—”

His muzzle dipped toward my face. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for his teeth.

Something cold pressed beneath my wrist.

I went rigid. The wolf nudged my arm aside and sniffed along my cheek, his breath warm and damp against my skin. When I cautiously opened my eyes, his nose was inches from mine.

Then I noticed his tail.

It was sweeping back and forth so enthusiastically that his whole body swayed above me.

“You smell good!”