The Black Alpha's coat was heavy, a weight that should have been stifling but instead felt like an anchor in a storm. I clutched the lapels, my nose buried in the scent of cedar and cold iron. It was the only thing keeping me from shattering.
"Can you walk?" he asked. He didn't look back. He didn't offer to carry me like a damsel. There was a jagged respect in his indifference.
"I... I can manage," I lied, my legs feeling like overcooked sugar.
I forced myself to stand. The world spun, a dizzying whirl of black trees and silver moonlight. I took a step, my bare feet stinging against the frozen pine needles, and nearly buckled.
A massive hand caught my elbow. Through the leather of his glove, I felt the heat of him a furnace-like warmth that made my wolf stir in her exhausted sleep.
"Liar," he grunted.
Before I could protest, he hooked an arm under my knees and another behind my back. He hoisted me against his chest as if I weighed nothing more than a handful of leaves. I gasped, my hands instinctively flying to his neck to steady myself. His skin was hot, pulsing with a power that made my fingertips tingle.
"Don't get used to it," he muttered, though his grip was firm. "My kingdom doesn't tolerate weakness for long."
"I'm not weak," I hissed, even as my head laved against his shoulder. "I'm... depleted."
"I know what you are," he said, his voice dropping into that low, velvet register that vibrated in my chest. "That's why you're still breathing."
He moved through the forest with a speed that defied his size. The Forbidden Crags fell away, replaced by a narrow, treacherous path that wound upward into the Black Peaks. This was the dead zone where no Silver Moon scout dared to tread.
Then, I saw it.
Rising from the jagged stone like a crown of thorns was Obsidian Crest. It wasn't a manor with silk curtains and gold trim. It was a fortress of black rock and iron, carved directly into the mountain. Torches burned with a strange, blue flame along the ramparts, casting long, dancing shadows.
As we approached the massive iron gates, a dozen wolves emerged from the gloom. They weren't the groomed, arrogant warriors of my father's pack. These were scarred, rugged, and lean. Their eyes held the sharp, hungry glint of survivors.
"Alpha!" one of them called out, bowing his head deeply. "The perimeter is clear. But we felt... the tremor. The howl."
The Black Alpha whose name I still didn't know didn't stop. He walked through them like a king moving through a field of wheat.
"The wind is changing, Kael," he said shortly. "Prepare the infirmary. And tell the cook to bring meat. Raw."
He carried me into the heart of the fortress. The air inside was warmer, smelling of woodsmoke and old stone. He finally set me down in a room that looked more like a war room than a bedroom. Maps were pinned to the walls with daggers; a massive fur-covered bed sat in the corner.
He turned to a basin of water, stripping off his gloves.
"Wash," he commanded, gesturing to the water. "The scent of the Silver Moon is cloying. It makes my wolf want to bite something."
I stood there, shivering in his oversized coat, feeling the sudden prick of my old life's shame. "I have nothing else to wear."
He paused, his back to me. I watched the muscles of his shoulders ripple beneath his shirt a map of power and scars. He reached into a heavy wooden chest and tossed a bundle of black cloth at me.
"One of my shirts. It'll have to do."
He started to walk toward the door, but I found my voice. "Wait."
He stopped, his hand on the iron latch.
"Why me?" I whispered, the question I'd been holding since the cliffside finally breaking free. "You're the King of Rogues. You could have anyone. Why save a girl who was just tossed out like trash?"
He turned slowly. The blue torchlight caught the abyss of his eyes, making them look like cracked obsidian. He walked back to me, his presence closing in until I had to tilt my head back just to see his jaw.
He leaned down, his breath warm against my ear, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my core.
"Because, Aria," he whispered, "I didn't see a girl being tossed out. I saw a weapon being forged. And I've been looking for a blade sharp enough to cut the throat of the High Alpha for a very, very long time."
He pulled back, his gaze dropping to my lips for a fraction of a second—a look of such raw, carnal hunger that I forgot how to breathe.
"Eat. Sleep," he snapped, his voice suddenly hard again. "Tomorrow, your training begins. If you want to kill the man who rejected you, you have to learn how to be a monster first."
The door slammed shut behind him, the heavy bolt clicking into place.
I sank onto the bed, the black shirt clutched to my chest. My heart was thundering, not with fear, but with a terrifying, new spark of ambition.
A monster, I thought, looking at my reflection in the dark window. My eyes flashed silver for a brief, haunting second.
Yes. I think I can do that.