Page 6 of King of Moon and Claws

Elora, still strapped to the table with restraints digging into her flesh, saw the wolf as he entered the dim chamber. She knew he was a shifter, not only because of his enormity but because she could sense him. Just as Vasilis had said, she could pick up his thoughts in the same fashion that she could other furry creatures’.

Except, his were far more distorted. It was like pressing your ear against a wall to try to eavesdrop on a conversation in another room.

Nevertheless, the ability was there, so she took advantage of it.

Are you here for me? she asked the wolf telepathically.

He stopped circling the table for a moment. Then he continued skulking, replying to her with a nonchalance through his mind to hers.

Yes, I heard you crying for help. Now hold still for a moment.

Elora did as he asked. She’d lost track of how long she’d been there, being fed measly scraps of food she didn’t recognize. It was just enough to keep her alive and breathing, though it’d felt to Elora that even that had begun to dwindle.

She held still while the wolf slashed the restraints, freeing her from her bondage. The relief she felt was delayed as she rose to her feet, her legs quivering, weak as twigs. Blood rushed from her head, rendering the witch queasy and on the edge of fainting.

Thankfully, the wolf was by her side quickly.

Lie on my back. I will take you from this place.

Elora did so without question. He was far larger than any wild wolf she’d communicated with before, so climbing on top was rather easy, like saddling up a miniature horse. She was surprised by how easily her body went limp and how his velvet soft fur comforted her. She laid her head between his shoulder blades and held onto his sides loosely as he moved swiftly and with urgency.

They emerged from the black darkness of her enslavement, the sunlight strikingly bright. Elora buried her face in his back, groaning as the wolf galloped through the fragrant fields.

Rest, you are safe now, he said to her in his mind.

Elora had no idea where they were going, but that didn’t matter. She was thankful once more for her abilities to communicate with animals – even human-hybrid animals. She had little strength to ruminate on the past, summoning all her energy to keep from slipping into unconsciousness.

The brightness was submerged before long, replaced by the cool sensation of cobblestone indoor walls. Elora turned her head from the wolf’s warm back to find, much to her surprise, that the wolf had taken her inside a structure that resembled a castle.

Thoughts tumbled through Elora’s mind as servants rushed to her, guiding her off the wolf’s back. As chaos ensued, the wolf shifted and rose to his feet, the sleek black fur dissipating into the stranger’s skin and settling atop his head. What remained of her savior were dazzling green eyes set in a face with a chiseled jaw and a gravely serious expression.

Plus, a nude body that looked like it had been carved from granite by a skilled sculptor.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Elora felt like she was anchored to the floor as servants scrambled to cover her savior’s naked form. Her eyes hadn’t traveled south before he was clothed, a twitch of disappointment twisting through her body.

“I’m… I’m a little faint,” she said. A servant guided her to take a seat on a stool. “I don’t know where I am.”

The man pulled the rope of his robe tight and stepped toward her, still regarding her with that hard, solemn expression. He looked like he wanted to reach out but hesitated.

“My name is Bastian Threwold. I’m the alpha king. I’m sorry for all of this fuss.”

Alpha king? She was no longer in her human village. Everything felt surreal in her weakened state. All she could do was shake her head in disbelief.

“That’s fine. You saved me, after all,” she mumbled.

“How long have you been held captive by Vasilis?”

Elora blinked, still in shock from the revelation that she’d been rescued by a shifter. The few shifters she knew never spoke about royalty. He looked rather regal in his forest green silk robe, standing idle in the kitchen threshold.

“I, um, I’m not sure,” she said as the servants continued to rush around them. “A few months? I don’t know. I was barely fed, and he tortured me.”

Bastian’s face hardened even more. Elora started to feel dizzy as the scent of fresh bread and chicken soup wafted to her nose.

“Sir,” a middle-aged woman with muted red hair said, bringing a warm washcloth to Elora’s face. “Respectfully, I believe that it may be best if we let her get a good meal and some rest before we start the interrogation.”

Elora waited for the king to scold, but he did not. Instead, he agreed while the woman caressed her with the cloth, the warmth of the fabric calming.

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