Page 3 of Siren's Kiss & Feral Beasts
My mate shivers and extends her right hand out toward me, then pulls it back as I snap each shackle off. Now, there’s a hintof nervousness in her expression, and in the semi-formed bond, there’s a tug of trepidation for my next move.
And to her surprise, there isn’t one. Not yet.
For now, I want her to swim away and hide. I want to earn the right to mount my female.
I’m going to disprove every lie they’ve fed her.
I will conquer the sea—destroy those separating us—leaving no shelter except me.
I am her home. All she’ll ever need.
I’m coming for you, my sinful treasure. There’s no escaping me.
1
KAI
ONE YEAR AGO…
“Shadow born. Blood forged. Shadow born. Blood forged.”
Wolves chant as I move through the crowd, making my way toward the center of the fighter’s circle. Some pound their chests in unison, gazing straight ahead, while others drop to one knee with their heads bowed. Both are a show of respect as their howls pierce the night, echoing through the open field not far from the island’s shore—an ancient call that seals their loyalty to me.
Their king. Their Alpha.
“Shadow born. Blood forged. Shadow born. Blood forged.”
The ground beneath my bare feet is wet and warm. The trail of blood and sand—the unconscious bodies of territory leaders being dragged through on their way to the healer’s tent—is a testament to our ancient ways. It’s tradition. A sacred ritual.
I’ve held it for the last four years, since taking over as alpha. Just as my father did before me.
The victor of the previous fight retakes his place in the audience, limping and bruised, his head bowed in my direction while I take in the damage inflicted.
Two broken palm trees, snapped in half.
Ripped fur and fragments of skin on the eroded ground.
Sanguine stains feed the earth beneath our feet as the goddess is paid her dues.
Every wolf here has earned his place through dominance, blood, and fire. Many have challenged me and lost over the last few years—leaders in their own right with packs they’re responsible for—but here, they kneel.
My word is law. Their loyalty is to me. To our brotherhood.
Pirates. Wolves. Bloodthirsty.
Tonight, though, a few seek to settle old grudges. Others want favor from the royal house.
No matter the reason, they’ve come because I commanded it.
The summit is mandatory.
No excuse. No mercy.
Once a year, male and female commanders from different corners of the five seas converge on this consecrated isle. It started when my grandfather fought his king in a challenge, then was carried on by my father, and it will not die under my rule.
Our wolves, the other half of us, demand a reckoning.
Not politics. Not alliances.
