All Chapters of The Lycan Tsar’s Rejected Crown: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Bronislava “Slava” IgnatovaEight hundred miles away in the damp stone vaults of the North Ridge, Matrena’s dark secrets were finally being dragged into the light by Vaelin’s shadows. But inside the high-altitude training amphitheater of the Obsidian Citadel, I knew nothing of the old witch’s dying accomplices. I only knew the brutal, unrelenting weight of the iron broadsword in my palms.“Again, Slava!” Commander Nikolai’s voice bellowed across the sand-dusted stone arena, sharp as an iron whip. “An Alpha does not block with her wrists! Drive through his chest! Lean into your center!”A harsh, ragged gasp tore from my lungs as I planted my bare feet onto the cold flagstones, gripping the leather-wrapped hilt of the heavy practice blade. Sweat soaked every inch of my body, plastering my thin, linen training tunic to my chest and ribs until the fabric was practically sheer. Loose strands of silver-black hair clung to my slick neck and wet shoulders, dripping rhythmically onto the stone

Bronislava "Slava" IgnatovaThe steel blade felt heavy in my hand, its cold crossguard biting into my palm, but the heat radiating off Vaelin erased every lingering ache in my ribs.He stood in the center of the sand arena, six feet away, his bare torso glistening under the low amber glow of the wall braziers. His broad chest rose and fell in slow, measured surges, the dark runic tattoos along his ribs humming with a faint, dangerous golden light. He didn't look like a teacher. He looked like an apex predator stripped of his courtly velvet, raw and lethal, waiting to see if I would run or bleed."Show me the Alpha, Slava," Vaelin rasped, his golden eyes slitted, reflecting the firelight. "Not the girl who hid in the cellar. Show me the female who wants my crown."A low rumble started in the back of my throat, my awakened wolf answering his challenge before my mind could process the danger. I didn't wait. I drove my bare feet into the coarse sand, kicking up a spray of white grit as I

Tsar Vaelin "The Iron Tsar" Volkov I woke with her body pressed flush against mine, the heat of her skin searing through the thin sheet that had tangled around us sometime in the night. Her back curved into my chest, the soft weight of her breasts rising and falling with each quiet breath. One of my arms was locked around her waist, the other trapped beneath her head. The scent of her—sweat, arousal, and that faint trace of wildflowers she always carried—filled my lungs and made my cock harden against the cleft of her ass before I was fully awake. Last night’s training had ended in chaos. She had pushed herself until her legs shook, until the runes I had forced her to hold burned white-hot against her palms. I had meant only to steady her when she stumbled. Instead I had pulled her against me, and she had kissed me like she was drowning. We had not made it to the bed. The floor, the wall, the edge of the table. I still felt the bruises. We had stopped short of the final act, both of

Alpha Kirill RostovThe smell of burning grain was bitter, sour, and suffocating.I stood on the stone rampart of the southern watchtower, my heavy wolf-skin cloak whipping violently in the sub-zero gale. Below me, in the snow-choked valley where the pack’s main winter storehouses stood, column after column of black, greasy smoke billowed into the dark night sky.Three years of harvested rye, dried meat, and salted fish—the only buffer keeping three thousand North Ridge pack members alive through the arctic freeze—were turning to ash before my eyes."Report!" I growled, my voice a deep, vibrating thunder that made the young sentry beside me drop to his knees in the ice."Alpha... it was a coordinated strike," the guard stammered, his teeth chattering as his breath bloomed in white clouds. "They didn't come through the main pass. A dozen rogues slipped through the frozen riverbed at midnight. They breached the perimeter wards using blood-anchors, doused the grain silos with pitch, and

Matrena DanilovaKirill’s blade kissed the hollow of my throat and I almost laughed. Almost. The steel was warm from his palm. Boy heat. Pack heat. The same heat I had rocked to sleep when he was small enough to fit against my ribs.I pulled the hood back myself. No trembling. The moonlight found my eyes and I let him look. Let him search for the priestess who braided his sister’s hair and blessed his first kill. She was not there. I had buried her years ago under silver and wolfsbane and the smell of Slava’s dying parents.“You fought bravely tonight, my Alpha.” My voice came out doubled, the old tongue riding under the human one like a second pulse. “But the wolves at your gate were never meant to conquer your fortress. They were only meant to keep you busy while I opened the door.”The token in my fist was still wet. Black blood hissed when it hit the stone. His nostrils flared. His wolf shoved forward so hard his pupils blew wide. I felt the animal’s confusion like a hand on my ch