The King's Price

I woke up coughing.

Not mud. Not river water. I was coughing on the smell of expensive tobacco and ancient books.

I opened my eyes and squinted at the dim light. I was lying on a massive fur rug in front of a fireplace. My clothes were dry. My wounds were gone.

"The Silver River usually keeps what it takes," a smooth, baritone voice said from the shadows. "You’re a stubborn one, aren't you?"

I bolted upright, my hand flying to my throat. "Who’s there?"

A man stepped into the firelight. He was tall—impossibly tall—with shoulders that seemed to take up the whole room. He wore a simple black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms covered in strange, swirling tattoos that seemed to move in the flickering light.

His face was a masterpiece of cruelty and beauty. High cheekbones, a jawline that could cut glass, and eyes that were a piercing, luminescent violet.

"Silas Vane," I whispered, the name a curse.

"The Shadow Alpha. The Monster of the North. The King of Killers," he said, tilting his head. He poured a glass of dark liquid and held it out. "You forgot a few titles, but we have time to catch up."

I didn't take the glass. "Why am I here? Why did you save me?"

"I didn't save you out of the goodness of my heart, Elara Vance," Silas said, his eyes dropping to my hand—to the mark of the thorned moon. "I saved you because you’re carrying something that belongs to me."

"This?" I held up my hand. "This is a curse. My mate rejected me, my sister betrayed me, and my pack tried to kill me. I have nothing."

Silas laughed, a low, melodic sound that sent shivers down my spine. He moved so fast I didn't see him move—one second he was by the fire, the next he was inches from my face, his scent of rain and ozone overwhelming me.

"Your mate didn't reject a human, Elara. He was too stupid to realize what you actually are."

"And what am I?" I challenged, my defiance sparking despite my fear.

Silas reached out, his thumb brushing the mark on my hand. A jolt of electricity shot through my entire body, making my toes curl.

"You are the last of the Vespera line. The Primordial Alphas. The ones who ruled the wolves before 'packs' even existed." He leaned in closer, his lips almost touching mine. "And that mark? It’s not a Luna’s mark. It’s a key to the Shadow Realm’s treasury. A treasury I’ve been trying to unlock for three hundred years."

I pushed him back, my heart racing. "So I’m just a tool to you? Another person who wants to use me?"

"I’m honest about it," Silas shrugged, stepping back. "Fenris wanted you to be a slave. Sarah wanted you to be a ghost. I? I want you to be a Queen. My Queen."

"I don't even know you!"

"You will. Because in three days, the Blood Moon Pack is hosting a Coronation Ball. Fenris is marrying your sister. They’re inviting every Alpha in the territory to show off their new 'power.'"

I felt a surge of pure, unadulterated rage. "They’re celebrating? While I’m supposed to be rot in a river?"

"They think you're dead," Silas said, his violet eyes gleaming with mischief. "Imagine their faces if you walked into that ballroom. Not as a rejected stray, but as the woman standing beside the most powerful Alpha in the world."

"What’s the catch, Silas?"

"No catch. Just a contract. You help me open the Vespera vault, and I give you the power to make them crawl. I want the treasure. You want revenge. It’s a match made in... well, not heaven."

I looked at his outstretched hand. I thought of Fenris’s sneer. I thought of Sarah’s silk dress. I thought of my father’s silence.

"If I do this," I said, my voice cold as the river, "I don't just want them to crawl. I want to take everything from them. I want the Blood Moon Pack dissolved. I want Fenris stripped of his rank."

"Done," Silas said.

"And I want to be the one to break Sarah’s jaw."

Silas grinned, showing a hint of sharp, white fangs. "I think we’re going to get along just fine, Elara."

Suddenly, the heavy oak doors of the study flew open. A guard rushed in, his face pale. "My Lord! A messenger from the Blood Moon. They’ve sent a formal demand. They claim a thief has fled into our lands with a sacred relic. They’re threatening to bring an army to the border."

Silas didn't even turn around. He just looked at me. "Hear that? They're already missing you. What should I tell them, my Queen?"

I stood up, my legs finally strong, the violet mark on my hand pulsing with a newfound heat.

"Tell them," I said, a slow, predatory smile spreading across my face, "that if they want the relic, they can come and try to take it from my cold, dead hands. But they should bring a lot of coffins. They’re going to need them."

Silas turned to the guard, his aura expanding until the room felt like it was vibrating. "You heard her. Send the messenger back with a gift. Send him back with Kael’s head. And tell Fenris Thorne... the Shadow is coming for his wedding."

The guard bowed and scrambled out.

I looked at Silas. "You have Kael's head?"

"I have many things, Elara. Now, let’s get you dressed. We have a pack to destroy, and you need to look your best for the funeral."

He walked toward a hidden door in the bookshelf, gesturing for me to follow.

"Wait," I called out. "Why me? There must be other Vespera descendants."

Silas stopped, his back to me. "There aren't. You’re the last. And there’s one more thing you should know before we start."

"What?"

"The reason you haven't shifted into a wolf," he said, turning his head just enough for me to see the haunting glow of his eyes. "Is because you aren't a wolf, Elara. You’re something they haven't seen in a thousand years. And when you finally 'shift'... even I might have to run for cover."

He disappeared into the darkness of the hall, leaving me standing in the firelight, the mark on my hand burning like a brand.

Outside, the wind howled—not the howl of a pack, but the scream of a storm.