Page 8 of Of Wolves and Wives

“What is it, wolf?” he sneers, his brow raising in challenge. “Would you challenge my right to the throne even now that the gods have deemed me worthy?”

“The child is not born. Fate hasyetto decide who is worthy,” I say, unable to keep the cutting edge from my voice.

“I am worthy, and the child will prove that.Whateverthe outcome.”

The way he says this has my gut knotting.

Watching him, I can’t help but wonder what he means to do with the child once it’s born, should it be his. An heir may assure him the throne, but it would also mean he has direct competition. With an heir, he will no longer be the only known option to sit upon the wolfen throne.

I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already planning the child’s demise as soon as his lifelong claim to the throne is established. I have no doubt he’d kill Rose and the child without a second thought. This thought has the blood turning to ice in my veins.

But would it be any better if the child isn’t his?

What would that mean for the future? For us? For the kingdom?

Time is running out, and though he chooses to ignore it, the Grey Prince doesn’t have forever to produce an heir to solidify his claim to the throne.

Again, it strikes me that there’s a possibility, however slim, that the child is mine … or Pierces. Hell, even Rykker’s. I wish I knew what to hope for. Which was better for Rose and the child’s survival.

We were never meant to get as entangled in the prince’s affairs, let alone take a mate, as we are now. This was never supposed to be personal.

Again, another wave of guilt crashes over me. I thought I was strong. I thought being able to stomach, for however long, the prince’s cruelty would be worth the future we’re meant to help usher in for the kingdom … but now.

I shake the horrific thoughts and images from my mind as I force myself to focus on the present. What’s done is done, however much I may hate myself for it. We can only look to the future.

Rose, and the child she now carries, is our priority. She’ll need our protection should the child turn out not to be the prince’s heir. Hell, even if the child is.

Especiallyif the child is his.

It suddenly dawns on me how grave the situation truly is. If the child is the Grey Prince’s, it could very well be the key to the kingdom’s future … and the prince’s ultimate demise.

My eyes move to Pierce and Rykker. We need to find a way to talk in private. Though I’m not sure how that’s going to be possible now with the prince breathing down or very necks.

Glancing back at the Grey Prince, his languid expression is all I need to know that he’s already guessed as much. He will do everything in his power to divide us, to weaken us.

I want nothing more than to end the prince’s life right here and now, but I know that’s impossible. No matter how long I live, I’ll never be able to erase the memory of seeing Rose in his room. The way he treated her, the pain she endured at his hands.

My teeth grit together at the reminder of her broken body, barely clinging to a single thread of life from his abuse. If I could, I’d bring him to his knees right here. I’d make him feel every ounce of pain he wrought on her a thousand times over until he begged for death … and then I’d do it again.

If I could, I’d end him here and now, consequences on the kingdom and my own life be damned. I have no doubt he feels the same way, but with Rose pregnant, we’re at an impasse.

Until the child is born, neither of us can kill each other. We’re forced to circle each other, unable to attack, until Rose’s fate is sealed.

Though, I have no doubt he’ll try to get us killed by our own hands in the meantime.

“Now, what task shall I assign you to today?” the Grey Prince asks, as if reading my thoughts. “Perhaps something as base as cleaning out the latrines in the barracks? Or perhaps you’d prefer to help with some of the women’s work?”

“Whatever you see fit, Your Highness,” I answer with as much vitriol as I dare. “I’m sure I’m up for any task you can imagine.”

The prince’s eyes narrow on me. I know I shouldn’t be challenging him to do his worst, but I can’t help it. He deserves to know how much he is despised; he deserves to feel threatened by my vary presence.

Hedeservesto die a thousand slow deaths for how he’s treated Rose. And a thousand more for every soul he’s shattered, every body he’s broken.

And I intend to do just that.

“On second thought, you’re to patrol the forest. I’ve heard wind of a raging boar roaming the nearby woods. Track him down.”

“That’ll take hours, if not days.”

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