Kane's POV: Willow leads us down the embankment, towards the enemy. She appears fearless, walking with her back straight and head held high, but I can sense her inner turmoil. She’s scared. More than she was when her father breathed down her neck. “Stop,” she whispers. “Look.” She waves her hand in the air, opening a little window in the magical shield hiding Vickus’s wolves from us. The air is suddenly thick with the smell of smoke and roasting meat. I can hear the laughter of his wolves, see them bustling around their campfires. All of it neatly contained within the boundaries of the spell. I stare at the force before us. Wolves as far as the eye can see. There’s no way Richard doesn’t know they’re on his territory, and his pack is huge. If he joined them along the way, Vickus’s ranks swelled by roughly two-thousand. We can’t possibly fight them. Willow waves her hand again, closing the window. “Wow,” Jackson offers. “Powerful magic.” “Well, there’s a thousand or so witches. If

I don’t want Kane to see me die, that’s why I sent him away. I wish so much that he could stay so I wouldn’t have to die alone – but it should be over quickly. I already decided that I‘d kill myself before I’ll let them torture me. The chances that I’ll survive the attack are basically zero. Nicholas didn’t want me to do it at all and tried to talk Lady Blaire out of it, but she wouldn’t budge and reminded me that I belong to her now. She pulled me aside after Kane and I came back, Nicholas tagging along when he saw us walking away from the group. “When the werewolves enter the forest, their witches will stay behind,” Blaire said. “I don’t think so,” Nicholas offered. “Vickus will want them close to protect him.” “No. They’re refusing. They know the wolves are here, and they’re scared.” “Do they know we’re here?” I asked. “Oddly enough, no. They think the magic they’re picking up on comes from the forest witches.” Lady Blaire laughed humourlessly. “Like these…peasants have anythi

Kane's POV I don’t have much time to take in Willow’s carnage. She decimated at least five of her over sixty kills. Tearing the hapless witches limb from limb, leaving nothing but little bits of macerated flesh and bone behind. A few have their hearts missing -- an irresistible treat for every werewolf, especially a brand-new one that’s taken by bloodlust. The best I could do for Willow was to put her to sleep using our mate bond. Something Glenn told me he did for Charmaine from time to time when she couldn’t cope in the beginning. Hopefully, Willow would sleep for a few days. It can take a while to come down from the high, and the cravings for more blood can last several weeks. I watch as Alfred wraps Willow in a blanket and loads her onto the truck. I have to stand back and let her brother take care of her because if I do it I won’t be able to leave her and I have to go back to my warriors. Alfred comes sauntering back to my side. “The others will take care of her. I’d rather st

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.

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,