Chapter 1 #2
I glared at my soon-to-be-dead best friend, Samara, and shut the book I’d been reading hard enough that I heard the binding crack a little.
Out of pure survival instinct, I looked around to see if Roth would appear out of the shadows to avenge my mistreatment of the ancient Fae book, but Samara’s reticent mate didn’t magically appear.
Good, because I was about to bash this book into Samara’s too pretty face and didn’t need any of her mates interfering.
“Okay, maybe not fuckin’.” She chuckled, the sound dark and raspy. “Because that is not the look of someone who’s getting regularly pinned against a wall and scre—”
I threw the book at her.
Samara snatched it out of the air and carefully put it back onto the bookshelf that lined the wall where she stood.
Stupid Moroi reflexes. As a Velesian, I was stronger than her, but nobody could match a Moroi’s speed.
Samara grinned at me and flipped her long black hair over her shoulder before playing with the sleeve of her form-hugging, dark purple dress.
Unless she was going out for a ride on her demonic mare, Zosa, Samara almost exclusively wore dresses.
I was fairly certain it was to make it easier to get ravished by her mates at a moment’s notice.
My best friend was a sex fiend who had five mates who loved her beyond reason and strove to prove it to her constantly. Often by melting her mind with orgasms.
Obviously, I was intensely jealous.
“As I’ve told you multiple times”—I crossed my arms where I was leaning my butt against the table in the center of the room—“I will not be fucking anyone in the Alpha pack. My arrangement with them is purely political.”
That lie was so good, I almost believed it myself.
“Funny.” Even from ten feet away, I could see the flash of mischief in her deep purple eyes. “I could have sworn I smelled another scent on your clothes when you walked in an hour ago.”
Do not give anything away, I repeated in my head while I tried to maintain an aloof expression. And I swear to the moon, Talis, if you’re reading my thoughts, don’t you dare tell Samara.
The ring Samara wore on her finger was so much more than a piece of jewelry.
It was an ancient Fae artifact that was not only sentient but telepathic.
Normally, I could sense when they were in my head, but not always.
Luckily, Talis was a very polite being and didn’t usually share whatever they picked up unless they felt Samara and her mates were in danger.
Your love life is messy, Talis whispered.
I’m aware, I thought back dryly.
An odd feeling brushed against my mind, as if I could feel the echo of someone giving me a sympathetic pat on the head. Great, I was now receiving pity from Fae artifacts.
“I live with all of them.” I waved a hand dismissively. “Our scents get all twisted up.”
Truth, but not all of it. My favorite kind of lie. And one I’d been giving to Samara a lot lately. I felt a little guilty about that, but not enough to tell her everything.
Telling her would make it real and I wasn’t willing to admit it to myself yet.
“Of course,” Samara practically purred. “How silly of me.”
Argh. She’d definitely be talking to Kieran about this later. The two of them lived to gossip. Time to change the subject.
“How are things going for the Blood Sovereign this week?” I asked innocently.
Almost a year ago, Samara’s aunt, Carmilla, had killed the ruling Moroi Queen and usurped the throne.
In addition to taking power, she’d also stolen Talis, who back then, had been a crown and capable of controlling the will of others.
Samara, with the help of her mates, had defeated Carmilla.
Instead of simply taking the throne for herself, my dramatic best friend had negotiated with Talis to transform themself into six rings. One for herself and each of her mates.
Talis had agreed, sacrificing their ability to control others to power the spell, and the dawn of the Blood Sovereign had begun.
They weren’t simply taking over as rulers of the Moroi realm though.
Instead, Samara and her mates were determined to make things more equal amongst not only the Moroi Houses but all of the Moroi in general.
It was slow going because quite a few families had built up power over the generations and didn’t want to lose an ounce of it.
Samara and her mates spent most of their waking hours getting the Houses to agree to work with one another while increasing the quality of life for the Moroi who lived outside the old Fae castles.
“The new Heir of House Laurent is trying to start a feud with House Devereux.” Samara rolled her eyes.
Both of my eyebrows rose. House Devereux was Roth’s birth House, and they were a paranoid lot who strongly believed violence was the answer.
Meanwhile, House Laurent had gone through a bit of a leadership change when Samara’s ex-husband, the Heir, had killed his mother to take over leadership of the House.
And then was killed by Samara shortly thereafter.
Emora was the new Head of House Laurent. Technically, they weren’t a Laurent—that entire bloodline was dead—but rather than rename the House, the new leadership had simply taken on the last name. Emora’s daughter, Iolana was the Heir. I’d met her in passing and she’d seemed smart . . .
“And why, pray tell, is Iolana picking a fight with the Devereux? I mean, there are easier ways to die in Lunaria. Like, I don’t know, step outside and wait five minutes?”
Samara snorted. “She was pushing for a marriage agreement between her and Tavian.”
I winced. Tavian was Roth’s older brother and the Heir of House Devereux. That entire family was more than a little unhinged, but Tavian had this quiet intensity to him that always set off my instincts. He was high on my list of people to never fuck with.
“Anyway . . .” Samara braced her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands. “How are things at the Alpha House? Other than the lack of fucking.” The corners of her mouth turned up into a smirk. “Allegedly.”
I fought the urge to sniff myself.
“It’s fine,” I said evenly.
Samara waited.
“We’ve sort of fallen into a routine, and I do feel like I’m making a difference.” I bit my bottom lip before releasing it. “But I don’t feel any pack bonds yet.”
“Oh?” She arched a dark eyebrow. “No magic tingly feeling?”
“Really?” I arched a brow back at her. “Going to get all Moroi snobby on me? Or maybe you’d like to enlighten me as to how your mate bonds work?”
“Well.” A spark lit up her eyes. “Really hot sex triggers them. Have you trie—”
“I hate you,” I said in a sing-song voice. “And no. I haven’t felt any magic tingly feeling. Pack bonds aren’t as intense as mate bonds, but you can tell when they’re there. It’s just . . . an awareness of the individuals in your pack or clan.”
“Hmm,” Sam hummed. “Seems like an invasion of privacy.”
I squinted. “You have a magic Fae artifact connected to your soul who can read all your thoughts.”
“Talis is polite.” She waved off my concern.
It’s true. I am very polite and I withdraw during their intimate moments. Which honestly just seem unnecessarily sticky to me.
I choked on a laugh. That’s called too much information, Tal.
Noted.
“You’re right. Talis is far more pleasant than the Alphas.
” Samara snorted, and my lips curved. “Despite the lack of pack bonds, I’m doing alright.
Everything is tense right now in the Velesian realm, but I think I can help with that.
Cade not only asks for my opinion but acts on my suggestions.
So while things aren’t exactly where I want them to be with me and the Alphas, I think we’ll get there eventually . . . hopefully.”
Samara’s smile was the thing of nightmares as her eyes flashed black. “Just say the word and I’ll get you out.”
In that moment, she wasn’t just my quippy best friend, she was the ruling member of the Blood Sovereign who had fought her way to the top with tooth and claw.
“You might have to fight Cali for that opportunity,” I said ruefully.
We both looked at the empty chair at the end of the table, where our hotheaded friend usually sat.
We’d only seen her a handful of times over the past ten months, and every time, she seemed worse.
Furies were notorious for going insane. For losing themselves to that everburning flame within their souls.
We’d always believed that Cali, despite her fiery temper and penchant for violence, would be okay.
For the first time in our nearly decade-long friendship, I had doubts.
Samara steadfastly refused to believe Cali could be slipping and came up with other reasons our friend was struggling.
The main reason came in the form of a six-and-a-half-foot-tall Furie named Malachi.
He and Cali had been involved until he’d broken it off.
Since then, he’d been a regular thorn in her side.
Shaking my head, I twisted and reached across the table piled high with books, scrolls, and other random Fae shit and grabbed a book.
I wasn’t good at sitting still for long unless I was hunting.
The rest of the time, I tended to pace or perch against things.
It drove most people crazy, but Samara was used to my fidgetiness.
We were in our usual meeting spot, the underground level beneath temple ruins in the Furie realm. Thanks to ever-increasing tensions between the Moroi and the Velesians, Cade had decreed I wasn’t allowed to meet with Samara in public.
After calling him every foul name under the moon and then threatening to shove a book sideways up his ass, I’d agreed, because he was right. Things were too volatile right now and I was a member of the Alpha pack, so it was important we looked united.
“Any sign of Lucian?” I asked while idly flipping through the book’s pages. This one seemed to be about local fauna. Might be useful.
“No,” Samara admitted.