Page 60 of Bound to Four Alphas

Her mates.

She wanted her mates.

Had they been attacked, too? Drugged and kidnapped? Surely not; surely there was no power in the realm that could subdue them.

Except the weapon. The weapon hidden away by the humans, spoken only about in hushed tones.

Had it been used on them?

Fear clawed at her throat, and she struggled against her binds, desperate to break free. It was no use. Whatever they had used to knock her out was still in her system, and her muscles protested the slightest movement.

It would be so easy to slip back into sleep. To close her eyes and give in to the fear and exhaustion.

No.

She couldn’t.

If her mates were alive, she would escape, and she would find them.

She had to.

The sconces roared to life, and she squeaked at the sudden, bright heat, narrowing her eyes and flinching away from the flames.

“So lovely to see you again, my dear.”

She craned her neck. Damien. It was Prince Damien, his handsome face painted with a lazy smile, a rusted crown balanced in his hands.

“You,” she hissed, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he drawled, tossing the crown up into the air and catching it again. “I’m taking back the magic you stole and claiming it for the Silverthorn Kingdom.”

Her stomach clenched, “Stole? I haven’t stolen any magic, what are you talking about?”

He walked closer, footsteps echoing from the walls, shadows from the torches throwing a hundred shadows of him against the stone.

“You really are a pretty thing,” he said, drawing a finger over her cheek.

She shuddered away from his touch, snarling at his proximity, limbs straining against the chains. “Don’t touch me!”

“It’s such a shame,” he continued, hand drifting down her chest to rest on her stomach, the burning heat scalding as if branding her as his head lowered to whisper directly in her ear, “that I didn’t find you first that night you were sacrificed.”

With an almighty grunt of effort, Selena bucked forward, her forehead making contact with his nose with a sharp crunch.

“You bitch!” he yelled as he stumbled backwards, blood pouring from his broken nose. “Look what you’ve fucking done!”

“Problem, Damien?” The smooth voice came from behind her, and she twisted around, gasping at the Fae male standing behind her.

Her immediate thought was that it was Elian.

But the face was wrong, the hair too short and peppered with gray, the eyes too cruel.

Phaendar. It had to be. Elian, as mischievous as he could be, always exuded a warm aura of protection and affection. Not to mention the undercurrent of dark power that made something deep inside her clench with longing.

The male standing behind her made her want to hiss and spit and fight.

“I thought you said she doesn’t have control of her fucking powers!” Damien said, clutching his face.

Phaendar tutted and walked around, assessing Selena with cool, calculating eyes, “She doesn’t need magic to headbutt you, Damien. It’s your fault for getting too close.”

---