Page 50 of Luna Rising

Charlie laughed. “I can’t believe you’re an alpha’s daughter.”

I frowned as I resumed my trek toward the refrigerator to retrieve dinner. “Why? Because I say what’s on my mind?”

“Well, yeah. Aren’t you taught to be, like, sweet and demure?”

Yanking the refrigerator door way too hard, I retrieved a bottle of Ewan’s blood mixed with all the extras and drank half before answering Charlie. “I’m a twin. When I was little, I didn’t think it was fair that my brother got to do all the fun stuff, and I had to wear dresses and hang out with my mother all the time. So, my father let me do everything Zach did—that’s my brother. As I got older and began to understand my duty to the pack, I realized that Zach and I were on very different paths. He would one day become alpha. I would marry whoever the council chose. I think my father felt bad for me to some extent, so he let me get away with a lot. You know, a sort of looked the other way situation.”

“And I’m guessing you took full advantage of that?” Charlie grinned like he approved.

“And then some,” I admitted, thinking specifically of Liam.

That lapse in judgment could have cost me a lot more than my wolf, though at the time I wished someone would kill me. Charlie didn’t need to hear that story, and I most certainly didn’t want to talk about it.

“Well, Ewan’s not a prince, but at least you love him. That’s something, right?”

“It’s everything,” I said. “And he isn’t a prince, he’s the King of Wolves.”

Charlie tilted his head to the side and looked at me like he wanted to ask me something but wasn’t sure if he should. I finished my bottle of blood and grabbed a second one in case the conversation took a turn that I didn’t like.

“What was he like as a fae?”

“Ewan? Well, he was Stavros then, and he was… arrogant… and gorgeous… reserved. He didn’t like to make a spectacle out of himself. So, basically like he is now.” I smiled as I remembered the first time I saw Stavros. My heart had belonged to him ever since.

“That’s disappointing.” Charlie clucked his tongue. “I had hoped for some good gossip.”

I considered all the “good gossip” I had about the great Prince Stavros. Everything I had told Charlie was true. It was what I hadn’t said. Stavros had the capacity for cruelty, something I believed he learned or inherited from his father. King Orrin was not a kind or good man beneath his public mask. I had witnessed Zosia’s interactions with him and felt her mistrust. After the games, she had grown to despise him.

“Sorry to disappoint you.” I shrugged, but then reconsidered another piece of gossip from the past. “You know about Stavros and Zosia and Illiana?” I assumed Ewan had told his friends something about our centuries old love triangle given everything that had happened.

“Yeah. A little,” he admitted. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Did I? Sort of. Ewan wouldn’t like it, though. Which, I supposed was fair, since he and I didn’t talk about it, and it hardly felt right to confide in his beta.

“The whole thing is so messy, and the way it finally ended still seems so surreal.”

That was all true and safe to say. I had yet to truly process Angelica’s death. In my dreams, Illiana was so alive and continually reminding Zosia that Stavros was hers. Hatred burned within me for that woman who had lived and died so long ago. Then, the guilt came. My blood had killed Angelica. It was my fault that she was dead. I couldn’t reconcile the two women in my head.

“Maybe you’ll feel better after the funeral, too?” Charlie shrugged one shoulder and pushed off from the counter to resume cleaning my kitchen.

“Maybe.” I would feel better after the funeral, it was the funeral itself that concerned me. I drank several swallows of blood from the new bottle.

I knew something was off immediately. My head felt woozy, and my vision swam. Hot, bloody bile burned my throat like the worst case of acid reflux ever.

“Zara, are you okay?” Charlie sounded a million miles away.

The bottle slipped through my fingers and shattered when it hit the floor, spraying the concoction all over my pants and filling the kitchen with a tangy, iron scent. My knees buckled. Frantically, I reached for something, anything to hold so I wouldn’t fall.

Then, Charlie was there, a firm grip on my elbow to support my weight. The glitches started, and the memories came rapid-fire. Stavros appeared in every single one, and none of them were pleasant.

Charlie tried to lead me from the kitchen, but I couldn’t move my feet. I was paralyzed. A whimper escaped my lips as fear took over. He scooped me in his arms like a child and carried me into the living room, where he laid me on the couch. When he leaned over me to stuff a pillow behind my head, the vein in his neck was right in my line of sight.

The bloodlust came over me so fast. Voices whispered in my head: Just a taste. Mortal blood is delicious. You can control yourself. You’ll stop before he’s dry. My lips parted and my fangs darted out, sinking into that sweet, pulsing vein in Charlie’s neck.

I saw the golden light in my periphery but was too consumed with the need for the beta’s blood to care.

“Zara, stop!” Winter cried.

Ewan’s rage erupted like Vesuvius in the bond. “Release him,” he roared, his voice both in my ears and inside my head.

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