Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
I have my own gifts?
What gifts?
He’d said it before, and now he said it again.
Telepathy. It’s why I can speak to Cy and hear the others. That’s one of my gifts.
And there are more.
Dad’s grin and silly tricks prick at my mind. I can feel them teasing and taunting me, just out of reach.
What am I?
Cy’s fated mate which means…
I’m a wolf too.
Cyrus
Each time I try to zone out and mentally find Remy, I’m jolted back to the present. There’s a chill in the air as the sun dips below the horizon and dark clouds warn of an impending storm. I can barely move. Whatever this thing is that’s clamped around my neck makes me weak.
Hunt. Feed. Fuck.
My wolf snarls at me from the shadows of my mind. The metal device that’s collared me seems to keep him at bay despite the full moon that’ll rise soon. I’m able to turn my head a bit, searching for the rest of my pack. A long, dark brown leg is just within my line of vision.
Rey.
Blood is smeared on her thigh.
Is she…
Her toe twitches.
Thank fuck she’s still alive.
Closing my eyes, I reach through the bond for her, seeking her warmth. I’m met with chilly silence.
Cy? The creature’s voice—no, Remy’s voice—calls to me.
I bellow out to him, Are you okay?
Cash said we’re fated mates, but he can mate with me since we never completed our mating bond. The sadness in his voice only heard in my head is gutting.
Cash is a liar. My wolf growls from the shadows in agreement. Don’t listen to anything he says.
I sense Remy calming at my words, but then his voice is strangled. Is everyone dead?
No. It’s whatever they have around our necks that’s keeping the bond quiet.
Like the dogtags. He sighs. Cash said they don’t work on me like they should. Because of you.
Which is probably why I can still reach Remy.
Cy… A pause. Cash’s father killed my family. The Beast.
The Beast? That sounds familiar but wrong. The Beast. The Beast. Theb East.
East. Not Easton.
Fucking hell. It was staring me in the face all along.
Memories flood through me. I’d been raised by my father to lead. It was known that one day I’d marry another influential leader in the Kingdom of Wolves. An Alpha. On my eighteenth birthday, I traveled with my father to meet King Thatcher. What I thought was a business trip, and my first real dip into the political side of what Father did, was actually Father’s hope to match me to my mate. And when I found out exactly who that was, I lost my shit.
I’d heard King Thatcher of Quebec had a daughter. Am I to marry her? I try to imagine myself with a woman for a mate. It’s not exactly what I’ve fantasized about, but I know my duty. Dad grows weaker every day since Mom died. I think if it weren’t for me and his unwavering sense of duty to his clan, he’d have checked out long ago.
Maybe on my first shift this upcoming full moon, he’ll feel better. Grow strong once again. Become the Alpha he was born to be. If he expects me to be a leader one day in his stead, I’ll need to learn everything I can when he’s at his most powerful. Not this…dying man whose wolf abandoned him when his wife passed away.
I mentally count down to the first full moon. Just a few more days. I keep telling myself it’ll be better. Father will grow stronger and then he’ll be pleased when I take my mate. Our line will continue.
Walker Cyrus Hames Graves.
Soon-to-be King Graves of Alberta.
I feel kind of sick when I think about all the responsibilities involved. I’d never really wanted to be a king one day. Maybe if it were like the Medieval times. Swords and shit would be cool. But being a king these days means running corporations, managing territories, and keeping the supernatural a secret from the humans. I never complain about Dad’s fleet of expensive cars, and I’m pretty stoked the Lambo is mine now, but it’d still be cool if I had a horse and went to battle on a field.
All of Dad’s lessons about leadership, hunting, and pack life come from our Canadian mountains camping trips, which makes me happy. He never speaks about politics, but I always knew it would happen when I came of age. Like now. I’d always preferred the simple side of life, Lamborghinis aside, and would rather be in the woods than in a skyrise. I’m learning you don’t always get what you want, even if your father is a king.
A sigh escapes me. No sense in daydreaming of what can’t be. This is my destiny. My bloodline. I have a duty I can’t ignore.
We enter a palatial estate, servants at every corner just waiting to be of assistance. Dad holds himself taller, prouder than he has lately. It makes me more hopeful that things are going to work out. He’ll live out his years, giving me plenty of time to grow into my responsibility before it’s time.