Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 65167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
We fly together, shouting, the whoosh of our blood flow the loudest it’s ever been. I soar, taking my wolf with me, vowing silently to both of us that this will not be the last time we’re together.
When we come down, we sink our sweaty bodies against each other, panting.
I roll over, and he touches my belly.
“I love you,” I whisper.
“I love you too, princess,” Rogan murmurs, his voice thick with exhaustion.
I sigh. “It’s time.”
He nods. “I know. Give me a minute.”
I shake my head. “I have to go alone. We both know it.”
“You’re the mate of my heart, princess,” he growls, “and that child you carry is mine. I won’t let you do this alone.”
“I’m sorry, my love.” I push his hair off his sweaty forehead. Already the pressure is building behind my ribs like a second heartbeat.
I’ve felt it before, when we move from this world into the ether, but now I recognize it for what it is.
It’s calling me.
And I’m ready.
I rise and dress as quickly as I can, depositing the bloodstone in my pocket and sliding the dagger into a sheath on my belt.
Rogan stands as well, and in a flash, he’s changing before me, his bones snapping, hair sprouting.
When I’m ready, I throw my arms around him, snuggle into his dense fur.
“It’s happening,” I say. “I can’t stop it. I wish I could take you, but I can’t.”
Then the ground gives way beneath me.
Not all at once. Not like a fall but a float. Like gravity just gave up, or maybe it finally let me go. My feet lift. My stomach lurches, but not from fear.
No. This feels right.
Light surrounds me, but it isn’t sunlight. It’s silver and endless, soft like snow but burning like stars. The edges of my world unravel, all folding in on themselves like a page being turned.
And then I’m somewhere else.
Not any part of the ether I’ve seen before.
The sky here is crimson. The ground is dark as soot and slick with something that smells like ash and thunder. In the distance, mountains rise.
I land on my feet, knees bending slightly, breath catching in my throat.
I’m not alone.
66
He’s here.
The demon king.
I feel him before I see him—the dark evil that slithers around me like a fucking cobra.
Why did I never see it while I was growing up with this man?
Under the crimson sky, he looks inhuman—not just cruel or cold, but ancient, elemental, like something carved out of fire and shadow. His eyes gleam red in the dying light, and his smile is all teeth.
I used to think his anger was human. That his silence was disappointment. That his punishments were discipline.
But now I see the truth.
He was never trying to raise me.
He was waiting.
Waiting for me to break.
I hate that part of me still wants her stepfather’s approval, even as I stand here quivering in his shadow.
My throat tightens, but I keep my spine straight. I won’t flinch. Not this time.
Never again.
He looks at me like I’m something he stepped in.
There it is—the disgust, the contempt he’s never bothered to hide.
I used to wonder what I did wrong. Why he looked at me like I was a stain he couldn’t scrub out.
I don’t wonder anymore. I know.
I remind him of everything he couldn’t control.
He controls my mother. She does anything he says, lets him think for her.
He took everything from her—her strength, her intelligence, even her children.
She gave them all willingly.
He moves slightly, just enough to remind me that he still thinks he has power over me. That he’s still the shadow I had to grow up under.
But I don’t stop. I don’t shrink.
Because if I do, he wins. Again.
And I’ve given him enough of my life already.
“She won’t forgive you,” he says.
Nothing I haven’t heard before.
“Some things are more important than the loss of a mother’s love,” I say. “Ridding the world of your evil is at the top of the list.”
His laugh is a hollow echo in the twilight. “So certain, so righteous.” His words slither through the air, cold and biting. “Yet you stand here shaking like a leaf.”
I grit my teeth, digging my fingernails into my palm. I want to lash out, to wipe that smug smirk from his face. But I won't give him the satisfaction.
I remember how my mother used to tell me to ignore him. That she didn’t want to hear any more of my complaints.
I learned to keep things from her. The evil things he said to me. I learned the ways to keep him calm, to keep my head high despite the storm thundering around me.
I take a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale.
His words can’t hurt me. Not anymore.
So I keep my cool.
“Maybe I'm shaking,” I say, "but not out of fear.”
His smirk falters—a small victory.
“Maybe it's anger,” I continue. “Anger at what you've stolen from us. What you've turned my mother into—a shell of the woman she once was.”