Chapter 1 #2
My gaze wanders to the men, and I lock eyes with the tallest one standing at the front of the pack.
A jolt of electricity shoots down my spine.
He inhales so sharply that his eyes flash, turning vibrant gold as his wolf instincts take over.
I immediately break out into a sweat that drips down my back, my heart hammering as I drink in his appearance.
Wavy autumn locks kiss his temples. High cheekbones, strong jaw, freckled skin.
Sculpted muscle clings to a body wrapped in the most decadent shade of teal I’ve ever seen—a sign of wealth, same as the insignia embroidered in gold just beneath his lapel.
A mountain range dipped in sunlight, its threads sparkling as he turns his body to face mine.
I’d recognize that emblem anywhere. It’s from the strongest pack in the realm—the same pack actively ruining my life: Dire wolves.
The man’s reaction catches the attention of everyone in his group, and I quickly realize my mistake.
I’ve caught the attention of not just any shifter, but the Dire pack’s strongest alpha—and the heir to its seat of power.
Fuck me.
I take a step back as liquid fire burns through my veins.
Adrenaline hits hard, and I suddenly can’t breathe.
We hold eye contact for far longer than we should, and I finally manage to turn away.
There’s no way in hell I’m going anywhere near the Dire pack or inviting further scrutiny.
I weave through the crowd as quickly as I can, putting enough distance between us that the wintry air cools the raging heat inside my chest. My heartbeat thunders as I catch my breath.
The headmaster’s eyes twinkle as I look up.
“A final word of caution,” he says, addressing the crowd.
The warmth burning through his gaze pierces my chest and dispels the cold I desperately crave.
Thankfully, he moves on, scanning the courtyard until he meets every gaze at least once.
A few vampires standing nearby hiss, likely feeling the warmth he naturally radiates.
Then a sudden burst of protests rises from the other side of the yard.
People curse and stumble out of the way as someone pushes through the crowd, rapidly moving closer and growling at people to move.
I flinch so hard that the witch beside me does too, frowning as I shove past her to put more distance between myself and the Dire pack heir.
If he’s hunting me before the trials have even started, there’s no telling what he’ll do once they begin.
The headmaster’s voice drowns out my fluttering heartbeat. “Although these trials simulate what you may experience in the wilds, the dangers within are real. If you feel pain, if you bleed, if you die . . .” A tendril of smoke curls past his lips as the headmaster smiles. “There is no coming back.”
All of a sudden, the courtyard disappears in a cloud of smoke, immediately replacing harsh winter with a soft, glowing summer in a grassy meadow surrounded by thick woods.
I gasp and calm my panicked heartbeat by willpower alone, my mind reeling as I whip my head around to get my bearings.
Butterflies and other insects flutter in the breeze, aimlessly bumbling to and fro.
I smack one with my palm, and it whizzes into the grass.
Its weight felt real against my hand. Either we’ve been transported into the wilds, or the academy’s simulation is made from powerful magic.
Even the scents in the air—summery sunlight and dry dust—taste genuine on my tongue.
I know better than to trust it, but I curse my senses for failing to recognize the difference between reality and dreams. It means that anything in here could be an illusion .
. . or it could be trying to kill me. Taking a breath, I turn my face toward the brilliant blue sky.
The white ball of light mimics the sun and shines brightly overhead, illuminating my surroundings with blinding clarity.
All I need to do is prove that I’m a capable shifter worthy of enrollment, and the illusion will fade.
My jaw clenches. The odds are stacked against me if only the alpha shifters vote on shifter candidates. They’ll never let me in unless I save one of their precious pack members, and even then, nothing is guaranteed.
But I have to try.
The tall grass rustles as I move swiftly through the field. I don’t sense any danger, but that means absolutely nothing in the wilds. Danger lurks within every shadow and whisper of wind. You never know what’s lurking just beyond reach, waiting to strike when your guard is down.
My parents didn’t raise me to fight, but after their deaths, I learned how to survive from the best damn wolf shifter out there. What my pack didn’t teach me, my ex-boyfriend did. I’m a wolf—a small one, but a wolf nonetheless. Wolves are hunters . . . but so are vampires.
I need to be careful, or I’ll end up dead.
Voices carry on the wind, and I duck into the grass as I move in their direction.
At the edge of the meadow, just past the tree line, three females surround a pale boy, no older than sixteen or seventeen, trapped with his back against a tree trunk.
He hisses at them, baring sharp fangs, but doesn’t move closer to strike or attempt to flee.
Blood red eyes flick between the three girls’ throats, the boy likely picturing his teeth sinking into their flesh.
“I’ve never seen a vampire before,” one of the women drawls. “I thought they’d be more—I don’t know.” Her nose crinkles. “Sexy.”
The blonde at the center crosses her arms over her ample chest. I recognize her as the shifter ogling the Dire pack wolves. “You’re not gonna mate with a fanger, so what does it matter?”
The brunette at her side takes a step closer to inspect the vampire, assessing him like she would a new purchase. “Everyone says that a vampire bite is better than sex. I want to know if it’s true.” She flicks her ponytail over her shoulder, and I get a whiff of her scent.
Shifter, just like the blonde. I bet they’re all shifters, but which kind?
Would I be unlucky enough to run into three wolves at the start?
“I’m not letting him bite me,” the final woman huffs, the shortest of the three. “I bet he’d try to turn me into some kind of freak hybrid.”
“Hybrids don’t exist, Laura.”
“Yeah, well—” Something slithers over her foot, and she shrieks. “Ohmygod! Get it off me!”
I roll my eyes as Laura, the short one, shakes her leg, but the slimy creature doesn’t dislodge.
As it expands and doubles in size to engulf her foot, its stench hits me, wet like fallen leaves stuck together after a storm, with a hint of decay hiding underneath.
It’s a common nuisance in the thickest forests of the wilds, but these women likely don’t venture outside pack territory.
A quick wash would scrub it right off . .
. if we were near a body of water. Laura’s boot sizzles as the creature’s slime eats through it.
Her eyes flash green and she shifts into a doe, ripping her clothes as her limbs snap and twist. Her transformation is fast—meaning that she comes from a powerful line despite her weak form—and she kicks all four legs as soon as she can, leaping into the air to buck the creature off.
It grows rapidly, undeterred as it consumes her hoof within seconds.
Her shrill cry pierces the air as she stomps and digs her hooves into the earth, but the black slime continues to swell, crawling up her leg in record time before oozing over her rump.
The smell of rotting flesh and fur fills my nose.
Her friends stare in silent horror as Laura falls to the ground with a whimpered cry, her body attempting to shift back to human form but failing. Neither of them lifts a finger to help, both of them frozen in place as Laura dies before their eyes.
The vampire they were mocking sheds from the tree and sneaks up behind them to jump on the brunette’s back.
He sinks his fangs into her neck. She shouts, clawing his face as he drinks from her wound.
Any injuries he sustains heal rapidly, making her attacks useless.
“Get off me, fanger!” His grip tightens as she struggles, digging his sharp nails into her arms until they puncture.
More slime creatures slither through the underbrush and cling to both her feet and ankles, leaving her screaming and her flesh sizzling. “Veronica!” Tears stream down the injured woman’s cheeks as her blonde friend, the only one left unharmed, narrowly dodges and flees to safety. “Don’t leave me!”
The vampire bites over and over again, the wet pull of flesh as he tears off a chunk of her neck bringing his victim a swift death.
Her blood sprays and her eyes turn glossy before she collapses, and the vampire, careful to avoid touching the scavenger slimes, disappears in the blink of an eye.
The air ripples as magic camouflages every part of him, including his scent.
His victim’s body is quickly consumed beside her friend’s rotting corpse, the slime dissolving them merging to form a single acidic blob.
I swallow the nausea rising to the back of my throat.
That is the danger the wilds pose. At any moment, you can be attacked by creatures thriving in the realm’s rotting lands—or worse, plagued by a sickness that eats you from the inside.
Forests become hollow shells of bark. Witches choke on their own blood as their ancestral soil turns black as soot.
Oceans become acidic and kill the life they once sustained, transforming those too stubborn to die into something unrecognizable.
Shifters migrate from sacred lands to shelter their packs, and vampires flee to escape whatever terrors haunt the night.
No one knows when or where the rot began, but we all know how it ends.
Magic won’t survive, and neither will we.