Page 15 of Throne of the Wolf Queen

‘I’m not wearing any.’

‘Your sire,’ he said, standing far too easily. I cursed under my breath. If he ever attempted to touch me without permission again, I’d end him. With or without the wolf’s help. ‘Your father, your papa, what was his name?’

I tripped over the next step, and even in the shadows, flames seemed to bloom in his eyes. I deeply regretted not going with the others.

‘Stay the fuck away from me,’ I cried, finally reaching the corridor and tearing towards Skye’s rooms, grasping a hold of my silver threads in case they weren’t there.

‘His name, sweetheart.’

I cursed as he caught up to me.

I turned, slamming my fists into his chest.

And still Pablo watched.

‘I don’t know his name.’

He grabbed my wrists mere inches from his face, furrowing his brow. ‘No. I don’t suppose you do, do you?’

A relieved sigh slipped past my lips as Skye’s door creaked and he let go.

‘About time, my queen.’ I turned to face Asher, his blurry form stepping into the sparse corridor. ‘Everything all right?’

I cocked a brow, turned back to the mariner, desperate to see how he’d get out of this.

‘What?’ My neck twisted. Where was he?

‘My queen?’

‘I…’ I stared around the deserted corridor. I knew my sight had deteriorated, but this was impossible. Unless…

The orb he’d conjured? His disappearance into thin air? The damned man wasn’t a simple Anomaly at all. Gods, I think I’d kneed the answer to my prayers in the groin. I should tell Asher what the mariner had done, how he’d grabbed me, but he’d kill the man for laying a finger on me. Instead, I placed a wide smile on my face as I gripped Pablo and met the playful glint in Asher’s eyes.

‘I do hope you’ve poured me a large glass,’ I said as he led me into Skye’s rooms, my pulse skipping.

I didn’t hear his response, though. All I could think of was the Deviant who’d just vanished before my eyes. An older, more experienced Deviant with the ability to balance his powers.

A Deviant who could help. Only, I couldn’t bear to be near him.

CHAPTER 7

MATTHIAS

Vyrus knew Evella’s heart wandered. Even the universe he’d created for her wasn’t enough. So once more, he reached within, splintered his heart, imbued the jagged shards with stars of crimson, violet, purest white and verdant green. Seven newborn Gods trembled before him, wide-eyed, bare. Riddled with power.

​— ​THE HISTORIES AND PROPHECIES OF THE STAR-CROSSED GODS: PROPHECIES OF MYRDDIN

My breath catches as a flutter of butterflies, bright as the blue sky above, swoop past. Blood thrums through my veins, pounding through my head as I realise where I am. As I realise what lies just beyond the beds of summer blooms, humming with urgent bees and hazy bird song.

The bower.

I’d almost forgotten this wild corner of the usually manicured gardens of Romero’s keep. Roses unfurl in white-petalled chaos across the archway, and my fingers trail through lupins. The heady scent of pollen, one long forgotten, rends a crack through my chest. I breathe against it; the familiarity of a once-loved place lost within the recesses of my mind.

Placing my hands either side of the arch, I peer through, unable to breathe till I find her. Would she have understood my earlier message to meet here? Tears prick at the back of my eyes. Her back is to me as she sits on the grass, her lap a blanket of daisies as she carefully inspects the chain she’s creating. Finally, I exhale, shaky and quiet. Almost as if by an external force, I’m pushed forward, hammering each tiny detail of the woman I love into my mind.

Gilded light shivers on the golden strands the sun always teases from her dark locks. It shimmers on her tanned skin, almost casting her in a halo. For a few heartbeats, I resist, a slave to her beauty. My Sorrow is an echo of the icons hanging in the chapels and temples. A Goddess in her own right as she attaches another flower to her chain. I take a step forward, my heart pounding an urgent rhythm. Another step and a smile spreads across my face. An ache consumes me. The ache to hold her. My boots crunch and Sorrow stills, turns her face slightly.

‘Matthias?’