Page 12 of The Forbidden Dragon King
A deep, rumbling growl fills the room.
I crack one eye open. My stomach roils with dread.
The wolf pulls back, however, retreating into the corridor. I still hardly dare to pull oxygen into my lungs as I listen to its footfalls.
I stroke my fingers down the glowing runes on the dress. “Thanks, Shadow Fae. I owe you.”
I rush to the wardrobe, running my finger over Bard’s warm clothes again. Perhaps, I shouldn’t ignore them. It’s only spring, and nights can still be cold. How much more freezing will they be in the ice and frost lands of the fae?
My gaze settles on a rich, scarlet woolen cloak with a hood, which is held together at the neck by a bronze wolf clasp. I guess that it’s Bard’s favorite because he wears it on ceremonial days. His dad gifted it to him.
I’ve stood at the back of the Great Hall, while Bard stood at the front next to King Ulf looking every inch a princely Alpha in this cloak.
I drag it out of the wardrobe and shrug it over my shoulders, where it trails behind me like the train of a bloodied wedding dress.
I can’t resist burying my nose in the cloak to take a long sniff of Bard’s woodsy scent to settle myself.
Then I lift up my chin, even as I struggle to drag the spear with me. I march to the window, yanking it open. I swing one leg out, looking down at the wild woods and cliffs that lead to the fae borders beyond.
In the chaos of the Mate Hunts, while everyone else is distracted claiming and rutting their Omegas, this is my chance to escape.
There is one rule drilled into all of us: Never make a deal with fae.
I guess that I’ve blown that by doing blood rune magic and swearing that Iowethem.
Still, if it saves my neck tonight, then it’s worth it.
Dying later is better than dying now, which is a mantra that I live…or maybe die…by.
I’m going to make a deal with the fae in order to request asylum.
The dragons are attempting to break every kingdom, from the southern vampires to the northern fae, like they’ve already broken the wolves. I can’t run to them. I’m not the kneeling sort, and the fae are the types of rogues who may welcome an outcast like me.
Lingering looks and the draw of Prince Bard’s woodsy scent isn’t enough. Omegas like me don’t get the happily ever after of a pack.
I swing myself fully onto the windowsill. The moon is high and bright and sharp.
It hurts my eyes.
Tonight, everyone expects me to die in the Mate Hunt. It’s been the joke from the moment that I turned twenty-one last month through the Moon Court.
If the Alphas want to catch me as their prey, then the predators will have to up their game in the chase.
I won’t bare my neck, however, and submit to my death like I’m meant to.
Instead, I’ll surprise everyone by running.
CHAPTER THREE
Winter Caves, Fang Kingdom
Freya
Adrenaline surges through me,as I scramble up the side of the cliff toward the Winter Caves.
My heart is hammering in my chest. My pulse roars in my ears. My ragged breathing sounds too loud in the quiet night.
The Mate Hunt is coming to its climax.
