Page 1 of Savage Prince

ONE

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I’ve always lovedthe water.

As a boy, I’d jump in the creek on our property while there were still ice chunks in it from the winter thaw. Come summer, I knew every pond and swimming hole within a five-mile radius and spent the seemingly endless days riding my bike between my favorites, my hair always a little bit damp.

When Mom said we were moving to Washington to live with her new husband, it was the loss of the water I mourned the most.

My father had been dead for years and our connections with his pack had faded. I was excited by the thought of making new shifter friends my age but putting those swimming holes in the rearview ripped at something inside of me.

They weren’t just a way to spend a day. They were my refuge from the world, a place where the tears Alphas weren’t supposed to cry were easily disguised, and a solid source of free snacks. By the time I was six, I was a pro at catching fish as both a wolf and a boy and knew every edible plant that grew near the water.

And then the helicopter my new stepfather sent to collect us at the airport touched down on an island in the sea, and I knew the universe was looking out for me.

This was even better than a pond or a creek.

The sea was wild and beautiful and alive in a way I didn’t realize water could be until my first cliff diving session with my new friends.

I plunged into the ocean, felt the powerful currents buffeting my body, and came face-to-face with a harbour porpoise and her baby. The baby zipped around my torso, rubbing against my bare skin, while its mother chattered a scolding in a language the shifter part of me could almost understand.

I still remember the wonder I felt as my jaw dropped, and the sea flooded in.

By the time I broke the surface, I was coughing up a lungful of saltwater, but I didn’t care. I rode the next wave to shore, stretching my body long to coast on top of the foam, feeling like I’d finally come home.

For the rest of my teen years, I spent every spare second that I wasn’t in school or training to be part of Hammer’s army as close to the water as possible. Swimming in the spring and summer, fishing in the fall, and stealing a boat to sail over to Seattle in the winter before we left for the mountains, relishing the cold spray on my face.

Those two years in the fighting pits were the longest I’d ever spent away from the element that’s always called to my soul. When I realized Lost Moon University was on the coast, I was excited to be going back to the ocean, where I belonged.

I never imagined the sea could be anything but a source of strength for me. I’m not one of those arrogant assholes who doesn’t realize Mother Ocean hands out bitch slaps as often as hugs. I respect the ocean, fear it when necessary, and am one of the strongest swimmers I know.

The thought that I might die by drowning never crossed my mind.

But now, as pain explodes across the side of my neck, flowing down to electrify my left front paw, I realize how stupid I’ve been. I should have remembered that I’m not actually half fish, the way my friends always teased growing up, and that land predators don’t always stay on land.

My muzzle drops and saltwater floods in, but this time there’s no baby porpoise or wonder to blame. It’s the pure agony of the powerful jaws shaking me back and forth as we sink beneath the waves that has me trying to breathe six feet under.

Teeth dig into the scruff of my neck, but there’s nothing I can do to fight back. Writhing for my freedom only shoves the fangs deeper, tearing holes in my already ravaged flesh.

Giving up on twisting free, I swipe frantically at the water with my paws, doing my best to reverse our trajectory. If I can get back to the surface, I can spit out the seawater, suck in a breath, and at least have a shot of turning the tables. I paddle as hard as I can, but it’s no use.

The wolf on me is massive. Even if my left paw weren’t paralyzed by pain, there’s not much chance I’d be able to pull us both through the water without a floatation device. My only hope is to shift and pray my transformation dislodges my attacker’s fangs long enough for me to get a human arm around his neck and squeeze.

If I shift, I’ll be kicked out of Lost Moon for violating the terms of the trial.

But if I don’t, I’m going to die.

I can feel my heart thumping harder, but slower, and an increasingly urgent burning in my lungs. I have about thirty seconds left to fight for my life, and I’d better make the most of it.

If not, Juliet will have to watch my body wash up onshore this afternoon, along with the usual seaweed and pretty shells.

Juliet…

I can’t leave her alone here, in this refuge that isn’t a refuge, with enemies everywhere and her murderous father still on the loose and unpunished for his sins. She won’t survive without me. If this piece of shit kills me, he’ll be taking out both of us, and I’m not about to let that happen.

I give up swimming and start to slip out of my fur, but my attacker chooses that moment to thrash his head from side to side with such violence that a piece of my shoulder tears away. I howl in pain and the water in my mouth floods into my lungs. I start to choke and cough, but with every lung-clearing convulsion of my chest, more water floods in after, until my racing heart thunders in my ears and the pressure building inside me becomes too much to bear.

My eyes shut, and my thoughts go soft. I’m dimly aware that the teeth at my neck are gone, but it’s too late for it to make any difference.

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