Page 39 of Of Wolves and Wives

It’s hard to miss the second meaning in his words and even harder to slow my refusal slipping from my mouth. But the second I tell him no, I watch his eyes flash as his smile finally fades. For a moment, our eyes meet. Then his lips curl as he leaps to his feet. He reaches across the table, catching me just as I try to move away from his grip. His hand slips down the front of my dress.

The moment his skin touches mine, something in me breaks. I don’t hesitate to bring my hand up. He’s so distracted by his attempt to grope me that he doesn’t notice until too late. My claw-like nails finally prove their worth as I drag them across his face. Then, I twist hard, breaking his grip on me as he stumbles backward. His eyes widen in shock as he stares at me, bringing the one that was just feeling me up to his face.

Blood drips from the cuts on his cheek. He blinks once, twice, and I realize that I snagged his eye with my nails. Good. He doesn’t move for a long moment as he stares at his bloodied hand. Then he lets out a deep growl. His face turns a deep red as his chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. It’s his eyes that give me pause. I’ve never seen them so dark as then. His anger is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.

He stalks toward me, and I quickly move backward. I’m able to duck out of his grip as I continue my retreat. I know that letting him catch me will be the worst thing to ever happen to me. The rage twisting his face confirms that he won’t hesitate to end me for what I’ve done.

Moving backward, I don’t see where I’m going. Relief washes over me as I put more and more space between the prince and myself. Until suddenly, I’m toppling over. Landing hard on my butt, I glance over my shoulder at a smirking Beatrice. She stuck her foot out, I realize, tripping me and ensuring the prince can pounce. He does exactly that before I can react.

His hot breath washing over my face as his fingers sink into my shoulders. His words slur in his anger as he threatens my slow death and every terrible deed that he intends to bring upon me. I try to pry his fingers off me, but I’m not strong enough for his anger. Closing my eyes, I suck in a breath as I force back the tears stinging my eyes. This isn’t how I will end, I promise myself. When I open my eyes, I note the way he’s leaning over me.

A smile tugs at my lips as I kick the prince. He grunts, not expecting my attack. It’s enough to startle him into loosen his grip on me. I waste no time in scrambling to my feet. Beatrice is suddenly right behind me as I move toward the balcony. Narrowing my eyes at her, I dodge her next attempt to trip me.

“You deserve this,” she seethes as she lunges at me.

Her movements are sloppy enough that I can easily avoid her. She tumbles past me and rams straight into the prince. He lets out a growl of annoyance at her as he thrusts her to the side. My eyes meet his, seeing every single promise to end me buried there.

A scream shatters the tense quiet of the room. Daring to glance away from the Grey Prince, I watch as Beatrice tumbles away from him. Unable to catch herself, she careens toward the balcony. Her eyes are wide as they meet mine a second before she tips over the ledge. My stomach twists as I drag my eyes away.

The Grey Prince’s attention is on the balcony, distracted from me for a moment. I waste no time in racing past him and toward the door. He doesn’t have time to react as I barrel toward Ms. Thompson, who stands in the doorway. I’m not sure I’ll be able to get past her, but I have to try. Her face is stern as I approach.

My mind must play a trick on me because I swear she steps to the side. Just enough that I can slip past her into the hall. I don’t hesitate, though. The hall is full of servants and guards who all just blink at me as I hurry past them. Ignoring the way my lungs burn, I don’t slow down.

I don’t stop despite not knowing where I’m going. The halls twist and turn as I move through them. I can only hope that luck smiles on me, and I find an exit. A door catches my attention, and I burst into the gardens. Gasping for breath, I pause for a moment as I glance about. I’m even more trapped here than inside, I realize as my gaze lands on the walls.

A figure steps from the shadows as I glare at the stone walls. Frowning against the brightness of the sun, it takes me a moment to realize that I’m staring at Lyra. My eyes narrow as I take her in. Her back is to me, so she’s yet to realize she’s not alone. Just as I’m to hurry back toward the castle, she turns.

It hits me then what the Grey Prince’s news must have been. Her stomach is rounded. Just as mine is.

Lyra is pregnant.

24

Rose

I’m frozen in my retreat as I stare at her stomach. Before I can stop myself, I take a tentative step toward her. She tenses as our eyes clash. I realize that she’s been crying. Frowning, I take in the rest of her. She looks terrible. Her once soft curves have turned hard and angular. She looks haggard. As though her body is eating itself instead of the decadent foods I’m sure she’s been given.

I hesitate for a moment, unsure if I should say something. But then her name slips from my lips. Her eyes widen as she takes a step toward me. I tense as she approaches. Wariness washes over me as she lets out a quiet sob.

“Rose,” she says, her voice watery. “You’re here.”

Then she throws her arms around me. I tense under her touch before forcing myself to relax. She’s not a threat. Even if she wanted to be, it's clear that her pregnancy has not been kind to her. I shudder to think how she’s suffered without any mates to temporarily relieve her suffering.

“I’m so sorry,” she gasps before countless apologies flow from her.

My eyes move to the door to the castle. I can just barely see it over her shoulder. Her words barely register as she admits she should’ve listened. It’s not hard to piece together that she learned the truth of the Grey Prince the moment she fell pregnant. He abandoned her. His kindness fading to cruelty. He had what he wanted.

“He no longer cares for me,” Lyra sobs.

I’m not sure I entirely believe her. Lyra has been left alone to wander the gardens. Pulling back, I note that she doesn’t seem to have any marks or obvious signs of the prince’s violence. Biting back my response, I pull her back to my arms. She sobs against me, her entire body shaking.

Angry shouts reach my ears, and I tense. The Grey Prince. He’s found me, found us, and is heading straight here. My eyes dart about the enclosed garden. I can’t let him catch me. Death would be a kindness I’m not sure I’ll be given. But I can’t let him catch me.

It hits me that this is the very rose garden where I was once allowed to stroll. The one where Peirce protected me from the woman currently sobbing in my arms. I remember seeing a door in the stone. I have to hope that it leads to freedom. Freeing myself from Lyra, I hurry through the rows of roses.

Running my hands along the mossy stone of the wall, a sigh escapes me as I find the door. Digging my nails into the stone, I tug. My eyes land on Lyra, standing there, curled in on herself. She looks forlorn at that moment, as though she realizes that this is the end. Annoyance fills me as I dart back toward her.

“We need to leave,” I hiss as I drag her toward the door.

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