Something dark and ugly twists in my chest. “What do you do at the ritual?”
“We drink, and dance, and cut loose.” Her eyes are bright. “Then the moon rises, and we shift.”
She pushes off from the desk, and heads to the door.
“No one will bother you tonight. We’ll all be hunting in the forest. Stay in the castle.” She nods at the letter opener on my bedside table. “Keep that close, too.”
She leaves me to join Callum and the others.
As the room darkens, so do my thoughts.
The old me—the one who existed before I was taken—would have accepted that someone as important as Callum would not visit me before an important event. When I was left at home while my brother went hunting, or when I was sent to bed by my father at feasts so the men could talk, I accepted this without question.
But something is changing within me—shifting and transforming.
I deserved a visit from him. Didn’t I?
The shadows grow, and in the distance, I can hear men shouting. I wonder if Callum’s is among them. I try not to think about what he might be doing, and who he might be doing it with.
I’m sure Isla will be all over him tonight.
Before long, a ghostly glow fills my chambers, and curiosity pulls me to the window.
The full moon is high in the sky. I have never seen it so bright before. It paints the evergreens an ashy silver.
As I’m staring, time seems to stand still. Silence sweeps over the land. The wind drops, and the loch is deathly quiet. A howl breaks the night, followed by hundreds more. My arms turn into gooseflesh and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
The Wolves have shifted.
I’m peering through the glass, wondering if I’ll see any of them, when I hear a roar of pain. It’s distinctly human, and sounds like it’s coming from within the castle.
I breathe in sharply.
Has Ryan woken up?
Wolfsbane attacks the wolf. I’ve been reading about it all week. I wonder if he is unable to shift.
I move my weight from one foot to the other. I want to go to him, but I was told to stay in my room.
He screams again, and I cannot bear it. He is hurt because of me, because Sebastian wants me back and sent him with a message. My mother’s voice comes to me, just as it did on the night when I went to the kennels to tend to his injuries.
Have courage, little one.
I have to do something.
I pull on my cloak and boots, pocket the silver letter opener, and hurry out of the door.
The castle is eerily quiet, and I can barely see where I’m going as I feel my way down the spiral staircase.
I reach one of the landings. The male cries out again, and I follow the sound down a sconce-lined corridor. There’s a loud clatter ahead, followed by a low grunt. It’s coming from one of the rooms.
Heart in my throat, I push open the door.
The room is dark, but I can see I’m in someone’s bedchambers.
A regal four-poster bed with black silk bedding dominates the space. An oil lamp has shattered on the floor and shards of glass glint on the sheepskin rug.
“Ry—”
The young wolf’s name dies in my mouth.
There’s a male in the room, but it isn’t Ryan.
He’s facing away from me, so all I can see is a muscular back—a silver web of angry scars crisscrossing his skin. He’s leaning against a desk and he’s breathing hard.
He’s wearing nothing but a pair of breeches.
“Blake?” I whisper.
I don’t understand. He should be a wolf.
“What are you doing here, little rabbit?” His voice sounds strange—as dark and smooth as the night sky outside the window.
Slowly, he turns around.
He’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and a couple of dark strands of hair stick to his forehead. There are scars on his torso, too, but my gaze is held by the strange look on his face.
I step back, my hand reaching for the knife in my pocket. “Blake. . . I. . . I thought you were. . . Why aren’t you. . .? What are you doing?”
His nostrils flare.
He breathes in then sighs, his head tilting back. The tension in his muscles dissipates. “Fuck it.”
When he meets my gaze again, the wolf is in his eyes.
A cold smile spreads across his face.
“Run,” he says.
Chapter Thirty
Run.
Although my heartbeat skitters in my chest, I turn to stone. My feet grow roots and I cannot move. I can only stare in horror, unblinking, at Blake.
The ghostly glow from the full moon reflects off his damp skin. He stalks toward me.
“Run.” His voice is different—low, and raspy.
The air is charged. It feels like lightning is about to strike.
And then he changes.
It only takes a few seconds, but every bone in his body breaks and shifts.
And what is left in his place. . .
Time stops.
He is as large as a wild bear. His fur is black, making him at one with the shadows. His eyes, amber, glow in the darkness. He bares his teeth and growls. Adrenaline surges through my body, cracking the stone and uprooting my feet.
Run, my brain screams.
Just as the beast leaps, I turn.
I bolt out of the room.
I knock my shoulder against the door frame as I escape, veering into the opposite stone wall, then stumbling into the center of the corridor.
There’s a crash behind me. A gnashing of teeth.
My feet pound against the stone floor, propelling me forward. I do not know where I’m going. The night is dark. The corridors and stairways unfamiliar. Again, I am alone in a labyrinth of stone and shadow, and the beast is getting closer.
One word repeats in my mind, over and over again, as the sound of my heartbeat rages in my ears.
Run. Run. Run.
His claws scrape and clack against the flagstones. There’s a smash as he barges into a wall, knocking an unlit sconce from its holder. His growl vibrates through my chest.
Faster. Faster. Faster.
I reach a stairway.
The wolf crashes in front of me, skidding over the stone. I change course, and he blocks me again with his teeth bared. His heat swamps me as I veer in the opposite direction.
He is leading me further into the maze, herding me like the dogs on the farms do with the sheep before they are slaughtered.
Goddess, help me.
The walls close in as I sprint past them. My hair sticks to my face, and my body is drenched in sweat. My cloak constricts me. The air is hot. Claustrophobic.
I need to get out of here. I need to feel the wind, and taste the mountains. I need the freshness of the rain to touch my face, and I need to see the infinite sky—even if it is not my goddess that lights it tonight.
I don’t want to be herded into my own tomb.
I will not die tonight.
Something inside me screams.
Fight. Fight. Fight.
I hurl the silver letter opener over my shoulder. I don’t wait to see if I hit my target, though he is so big, surely I cannot miss. A crash, then an aggressive growl, fills my ears. I don’t pause. I wrench a large oil painting off the wall as I pass, partially blocking the path.