Page 62 of Bound to Four Alphas

Her purpose hit her with clear, single-minded focus.

“I don’t have any magic,” she said suddenly, interrupting Damien. “You’ve got the wrong girl. I’m not a God’s daughter. I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous.”

Phaendar raised an eyebrow as if asking what she thought she would accomplish with the lie. But it wasn’t him she needed to fool.

“For fuck’s sake, yes you do, you stupid little chit,” Damien growled. “Not that it matters. You’ll be dead before you ever have a chance to use it.”

“Then how do you know killing me will work?”

“Damien,” Phaendar warned, but it was too late.

“It needs to bond with the crown before it’s released, that’s why we’ll be siphoning it into the damn thing. It’s far too disobedient at the moment.” Damien rolled his eyes. “Speaking of which, I think we’ve been here long enough.”

The crown. That was the answer. All she had to do was get to the crown, and her magic would be unlocked. Released. She could escape, find her mates, protect her child.

She just had to get to the crown.

“Would you do the honors?” Damien passed it to Phaendar, who held it high above her head, his face sharpening into focus. Tendrils of magic, similar to Elian’s but not nearly as potent, crept through the metal. A sharp, high-pitched scream erupted from the crown, and Phaendar shuddered with the effort of keeping it still.

“It’s a shame,” Damien walked to her side, a lethally sharp dagger in his hand, “I really would have preferred it if you had been my mate.”

He raised the dagger, eyes focused on Phaendar as he began chanting, the crown rattling and screeching in his grasp.

A distraction, that’s all she needed. She just had to unbalance him, injure him, shock him somehow and then he might drop the crown onto her. Perhaps that would be enough. She thrashed and bucked wildly, looking for something, foranythingshe could use against him.

There was nothing.

Damien grinned as Phaendar’s chanting reached its zenith, muscles tensing to plunge the dagger into her chest and—

A deep snarl echoed from one of the dark corners of the room, where a large archway curved, menacing and shadowy.

Damien whipped around, dagger clenched in his hand.

Phaendar fell silent.

The snarling grew louder as, out of the shadows concealing him, a gigantic wolf stepped into the light.

Chapter 27 - Ronan

Ronan had never felt such instant, all-consuming rage.

There she was. His mate. Chained to an altar. Prepared for sacrifice.

A snarl tore from his throat.

The human whelp at least had the good sense to look terrified as he backed away, dagger trembling in his hand.

Phaendar, on the other hand, simply smirked. Phaendar was old. Arrogant.

He would regret his choice.

“Ronan,” Selena wept, pulling against the chains that held her, her silver eyes wild with fear.

He didn’t reply. He couldn’t bring himself to even speak, so forceful was his fury. His growls echoed from the stone, teeth bared and desperate to close around Phaendar’s throat.

He would paint the whole room in their blood.

“Father,” Elian’s voice was cold. Emotionless. Shadows swirled at his feet as he stepped out next to Ronan, the dark magic potent as it rolled off him in waves.

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