Chapter 9
The forest erupted in sound.
Branches cracked, snow cascaded from the canopy, and from the shadows stepped a wolf larger than any I’d ever seen. His coat was black threaded with silver scars, eyes like molten steel. His growl shook the earth beneath my boots.
Damien stiffened, his claws lengthening at his sides. His body went taut, every muscle wound to strike, but the scent that rolled off the newcomer was undeniable. Not rogue filth. Not pack loyalty. Something older. Wilder.
The Rogue King.
I’d heard whispers around the fires—an Alpha without a pack, exiled after slaughtering his own, wandering from territory to territory leaving blood in his wake. No wolf claimed him, no law bound him. He was myth, nightmare, and warning all in one.
And he was staring at me.
“Little wolf,” he rumbled, his voice deep enough to rattle marrow. “You broke an Alpha’s bond. You walk free of the Goddess’s leash.” His nostrils flared. “Your scent sings of rebellion. Of blood.”
Damien’s growl sliced through the air, lethal. “Step away from her.”
The Rogue King ignored him, his gaze burning into me as though Damien didn’t exist. “You are wasted on a wolf who chains instead of cherishes.” His lips curled in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Come with me, girl. I’ll teach you what it means to run without being hunted.”
My lungs froze. Freedom. The word shimmered like a star just out of reach. My wolf stirred inside me, curious, aching.
But Damien stepped in front of me, his body a wall of fury. “She is mine.”
“No.” The Rogue King’s voice cracked like thunder. “You severed her. You lost her.” His gaze flicked to the scar on my throat. “I can give her a new bond. A stronger one. One that doesn’t break.”
The world tilted. A second bond? After the pain of the Severance, the idea made my stomach churn. But my wolf—traitorous, desperate—howled with yearning. To belong. To not ache. To not be alone in the hollow the Severance left.
Damien’s claws dug into the bark of the tree beside him, splintering wood. “Touch her, and I’ll rip your throat out.”
The Rogue King laughed, the sound dark and hungry. “Then fight me for her, Blackwood. Here. Now.”
The grove went silent. Even the birches seemed to hold their breath. Two predators, both Alpha, both lethal, circling the same prey.
Me.
“Clara.” Damien’s voice dropped to that deadly, velvet softness that always unraveled me. He didn’t look back at me, but his power wrapped tight around my bones. “Do not move.”
The Rogue King’s eyes flashed. “Or move. Run. Let her choose which wolf is worthy enough to catch her.”
The air split with tension. My heart slammed against my ribs, torn between the devil I knew and the nightmare offering freedom in his jaws.
I swallowed, forcing my voice through the terror. “I’m not a prize to be fought over.”
Both men turned toward me then, predator eyes glowing in the moonlight.
And in that instant, I realized the truth that chilled me to the bone:
Neither of them wanted me for love.
They wanted me for power.
