Page 2 of The Cursed Wolf King

Please tell me Anwen is here.I scanned the crowd for her wrinkled face. If she had anything to say about it, the old healer would be in the front row, making sure I had a friend nearby. But her knees were giving out, and the Heraclids weren’t known for making accommodations.

There she is.

Wrapped in robes as she usually was—the dampness always seeping into her bones, so she said—Anwen made eye contact and nodded.

As I opened my mouth to greet her, a hot hand wrapped around my neck from behind. It traced down my spine until it reached the small of my back, and a familiar voice breathed into my ear.

“I hope you don’t disappoint tonight, Eve.”

Damian.

He brought his nose to my neck and inhaled, his breath warm and invasive, cascading over me. I forced myself not to recoil, knowing any reaction would only encourage him. Damian—Alpha Grayson’s son and mybetrothed.Calling him that felt like a cruel joke. His hand slipped beneath the fabric at my back, fingertips brushing my bare skin in a way that made my pulse quicken with dread.

I was bound to him, obligated by the very rules of this pack. Every time he touched me, it felt like I was shrinking, being pulled further into the role I’d never wanted.

He was smiling, I was sure of it, even though I couldn’t see him. His satisfaction curled around me like a predator’s shadow.

“Disappoint?” I said, forcing my tone to stay dry. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I live to entertain.”

His smile turned into a sneer I heard in his words as he raised his hand back to my neck. “Entertainme, and maybe you’ll get to keep that sharp tongue of yours a little longer.” A nail pressed into my flesh and his hand began to shift into his wolf form—fingers elongating, the tips sharpening into claws that grazed the side of my neck. “Did you hear me?”

Damian’s claws pressed a little harder. I kept my face impassive, refusing to give him what he wanted.

“Fucking haughty oracle.” He spat on the ground by my feet.

The faintest rumble of my wolf stirred deep inside, a spark of anger ready to rise. Before I could even try to harness any of her power, the sensation died as quickly as it had come. My wolf was locked away, silenced by thecommand I’d been forced to obey ever since my mother abandoned me here, bound to follow orders.

Never to shift.

Damian snarled. “I ought to teach you a lesson in submission right here, right now. Let the entire pack see who truly owns you.”

His claw pierced the surface of my skin, the smallest trickle of blood running into the fabric of my white dress.

“I’d bet you’d even enjoy the humiliation, knowing the stock from which you come, precious oracle wolf.”

And he licked the blood from my neck.

2

EVE

The rasp of his tongue dragged over my skin, a vile brand searing into my senses. The metallic tang of blood mixed with the sour heat of his breath, leaving my stomach a twisted knot. Every muscle in my body screamed to pull away, but I held still, locking my defiance behind a mask of indifference. If I moved, if I flinched, he would win, and the thought of his smug satisfaction was worse than the disgust rising in my throat. Bile hovered on the edge of my tongue. I swallowed it down, letting the cold fury of my wolf temper the revulsion clawing through me.

The crowd shuffled, impatient and oblivious to the claws digging into my skin.

“She arrives—the future mother of my son’s pups.” Alpha Grayson stepped forward on the slab, his words thick and measured. He inspected me with a weight that pressed down, as if he could bend me to his will by force alone.

Grayson was a presence that filled every shadow.The sharpness of his scent—pine and metal, cut with a bitter edge, like dried blood—reached me before he did.

When I was younger, I’d clung to the hope that if I obeyed, if I proved myself useful enough, I might finally be granted a place in the Heraclid pack. Grayson himself had dangled the promise in front of me, letting moments of praise slip through his teeth whenever my visions aligned with his ambitions. Those fleeting nods of approval had been like scraps to a starving pup. But the moment I wavered, if I so much as questioned his orders, his regard would sharpen, and all pretense of warmth would vanish.

In those cold silences, he made sure I understood: without my gift, I was nothing to him.

“Come with me, Eve.”

He rarely spoke loudly, but he sure commanded silence. Each syllable scraped against the skin, filled with smooth venom and undisputed power. Beneath his polished exterior, his jaw was tense, a glimpse of the animal lurking beneath the surface, waiting for the smallest reason to tear apart whatever stood in his way.

Grayson’s hand extended, elegant jewels adorning his smooth fingers, though it was lined with scars. An invitation in the same way the snare invites a rabbit. Decorative, disguised, and impossible to refuse.

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