Page 46 of Of Wolves and Wives

Peirce frowns at my question. I have no idea what he’s talking about. I’ve never heard anything about mates being fated. As far as I understood, mates are simply what the wolves call the ones that carry their heirs. But once again, I’m being reminded of how little I fully understand this world.

“Fated mates have a pull toward one another. Though, I’m not sure if that’s true for humans.”

I nod as I realize the tug that I’ve always felt toward the three of them. The need for them to be at my side, nearby at all times. It makes sense all of a sudden. I’m drawn to them. Bound to these three men. Desiring them and loving them unlike I have for any other soul before. Why?

“Is it because of sex?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No. Not at all. Shifters can have sex without forming a bond. Though, if you’re fated to another, it tends to slowly weaken the bond between the fated two. Another reason I’m not interested in anything with Lyra.”

Considering this, my mind goes to Helena and the Grey Prince. If the bond is weakened every time, the prince takes another woman, no wonder the two of them are at such odds. The prince has all but destroyed their bond and their relationship because he wants more than just her.

Peirce clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable with what he’s about to ask. I watch him shift on his feet, his eyes not meeting mine. He frowns, then lets out a sigh.

“You don’t feel a bond with the Grey Prince, do you?”

Laughter slips from me before I can stop myself. I glance to where Lyra sits, watching us with a tilt of her head. Turning back to Peirce, I shake my head. I don’t think I feel anything toward him. Other than hatred and anger. Peirce nods, relief pooling in his eyes.

We’re interrupted by Rykker appearing. He drags a small deer behind him, his eyes moving from each of us. I smile as my stomach growls.

“Venison it is,” Pierce says with a nod.

32

Rose

Darkness falls, and I curl up, finding sleep quicker than I expect. With Rykker and Peirce at my side and my stomach full of venison, I fall asleep with a smile on my face. Only to be awoken hours later by a scream. Bolting up, I peer around in the darkness as my mates jump to their feet. Another scream is followed by a low moan.

“Lyra,” I gasp.

Scrambling over Peirce, I reach her side. She’s panting as she clutches her belly, another scream breaking from her.

“What is it?”

She doesn’t answer, sucking breath for another deep moan. I press my hands to her chest, feeling her heart racing in her chest. A low groan escapes her as she grabs her stomach. It’s then that I realize her dress is soaked. Squinting against the darkness, it takes a moment to realize its blood.

My own pulse quickens as I realize what’s happening. I turn back to my men, their wide eyes matching my own. We need to do something quick if we mean to save her. I’m not sure about the baby, but I won’t let her die from this.

“We need help,” I tell them. “We can’t let her die.”

Rykker and Peirce share a worried look. Then Rykker stands and disappears into the dark trees. I watch him disappear before turning back to Peirce. He hesitates for a moment before rolling up his sleeves and coming closer to Lyra.

“How can I help?”

“I need you to cradle her and hold up her legs. That way, I can get a better look at what’s happening.”

He hesitates for a moment before nodding and moving toward her. Lyra doesn’t protest as he shifts her. She’s too far gone in her pain to notice as I pull her bloodied skirts to the side. There’s blood everywhere, way too much for anything good to come from this. I’m gentle in dropping her skirts and glancing at her. Panic squeezes around me as I meet her gaze, her face pinched in pain.

“I think you’re losing the baby,” I say, trying to soften my words as much as possible.

“No. That’s not possible. I can’t. The prince…he will kill me if I do.”

She shakes her head with each word, her entire body trembling with her determination to make my words false. I say nothing to her. Her eyes widen in fear as though imagining the prince here with us. I can’t bring myself to say anything to her. Or to explain that I don’t think the Grey Prince will even have the chance to do anything to her. There’s too much blood.

But each moment that I’m quiet, her panic grows. And her skirts become even more drenched with blood. Peirce does his best to soothe her, running his hands over her sweaty face, but she bats him away. The moment her gaze lands on her skirts, she begins to shriek and claw at Peirce.

“Lyra,” I coo as I try to grab her wrists. “It’s okay, everything will be okay. Help is coming, I promise. We just have to wait, then everything will be fine.”

I don’t believe my own words, but she calms a little. All we can do is wait and hope for the best. Hope that the babe doesn’t kill her as it exits her. I rub her calves as Peirce returns to massaging her shoulders. Slowly, she begins to calm down.

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