Page 60 of The Sacred Wolf

“Yes.” Sebastian pulled back so hard that I stumbled. “We have to focus.”

Twin wolf howls filled me, and I shook my head. Fantastic. As if my wolf and Evan being in my head weren’t enough, now Sebastian’s wolf could speak with mine. Hadn’t anyone heard that three was a crowd? Or four if you counted me, which I did, at least. Not so sure about my wolf anymore.

Ignoring the background yelps of frustration that danced inside both our skulls, Sebastian and I wound our way to the edge of the pond.

He turned to me with a wry smile. “We’re due for a cold shower anyway, right?”

“Speak for yourself.” I smirked. “I’m looking for the muscle-soothing shower after. Together.”

The lump of his Adam’s apple rose and fell as his eyes swept over me. “Gods, you have the worst timing.

I chuckled, and we both shifted, the levity a welcome distraction, if only momentary. As our wolf bodies slipped into the pond, I shivered, though it wasn’t from the water’s chill. I would have him again later. As many times as I wanted. Forever. We should probably call the Elder Wolf and make it official though. What we’d done… well, that was very unorthodox. We were just lucky everybody except Evan was too focused on this to notice.

“This way,” Sebastian called, swimming ahead. “And I want you beside or behind me. Not in front. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

Listening to Sebastian no longer felt like acquiescence or surrender. Maybe because I already had? Or maybe because I knew his command came from a desire to keep me safe. Warmth filled me, and I kicked harder, determined to stay beside, rather than behind him, if I could.

We emerged from the water in silence and shook, droplets splitting the sunlight into a scatter of rainbows. I forced myself to look away from Sebastian, given I was as drawn to his rugged wolf as I was to the movie star version of him. I followed as he ascended the mossy ledges and crept over the shelf to the grey stone stairs of Belvedere Castle. Something gnawed at the back of my mind, and I couldn’t help fretting that this setting had the potential to transform from fairy tale to horror flick if we were unsuccessful.

“Are you ready?”

Sebastian’s question nailed my worries to my chest with a thump. Was I ready? To attempt to convince a murderous anti-shifter mob that I was a “kinder, gentler” shifter and hope that didn’t start a massacre of one or both kinds? I hesitated. Now my desire to run away and have a romp in the bushes instead of facing this ordeal didn’t seem as insane.

“My child!” A female voice rang out over the loudspeaker. “These monsters murdered my only child! My son was one of the students savaged in Washington Square Park just yesterday!”

My blood went cold at the high, childlike tone. It was Yara.

Sebastian’s wolf flinched as if struck, and the crowd's fury ignited my own. It ran through me, hot and potent, a powerful new lust for revenge that outweighed any other. My family hadn’t been the only one flayed by this power-hungry bastard. This torture had to end. I stretched, reveling in the ripple of my muscles. Sebastian had been right when he’d said it didn’t matter what happened when we revealed ourselves, because the war had already begun. Now we just had to win.

“Yes, I’m ready.” I replied. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

We leapt the iron fencing surrounding the back stairs, alighting on the concrete hexagon tiles of the castle. My eyes swept over the fairy tale turrets and spires, catching on the seemingly anachronistic American flag flapping atop the medieval architecture as the chants of “Keep U.S. human! Keep U.S. human!” began to rise again as Damian’s Yara puppet wrapped up her incendiary speech. I had never wanted to wake up from a nightmare more.

Since I couldn’t, my brain did the next best thing, and for a moment, I was back in the Last Century Cinema, leaning heavily against Charlie—who had strongly cautioned me against sneaking out to see Stepmom—while Julia Roberts searched this very castle for her missing stepson. That was the first time I ever wished my father had taken a mate after my mother, someone who would frantically search for me when I couldn’t be found. But now I shuddered to think what Damian would have done to her.

I touched Sebastian’s flank with my nose, and he looked sharply over his shoulder, wolf eyes burning with untimely desire. “Remember your promise. Stay behind me or beside me until we know it’s safe.”

“I will.”

In silence, we made our way up the stairs and under the painted canopy at the edge of the main square. Now that we were close, Yara’s voice grew louder, ringing out through the loudspeakers set up on all sides.

“These filthy animals,” she cried, her words coming out in a halting monotone, “cannot be allowed to roam among us any longer, taking lives and spreading who knows what kind of diseases!”

“Diseases?!” I started to roll my eyes, but Sebastian’s dark look reminded me that I was the sole carrier of what Damian was making her hint at. My tail drooped.

There were a handful of humans positioned between the speakers and us, but we didn’t want to alert any of them that we were there just yet, so we prowled around them to the side where we could get a view and plan our reveal.

Standing against the opposite wall and facing outward, dressed in another impeccable suit, was Damien. A blanket of humans as thick as you’d find at any music festival covered the stairs and lawn in front of the castle listening with rapt attention to the lies Damian was spouting through Yara’s helpless mouth..

“This is our city!” she continued. “Not theirs. There are millions of humans. We can’t let these creatures force us to live in fear. They stole my son, but they won’t get yours!”

A chorus of shouts arose as protest signs and fists were raised, a shadowy forest of anger growing against the clear blue sky. Damian stepped forward and cradled his arm around Yara’s waist in what looked like support. Only from our angle I could see that his fingers were digging into her sweater, his muscles taut. If his arm had been around her neck, it would be a chokehold. The fur on my hackles rose as the acrid tire-fire scent of rage rolled off Sebastian in clouds that made my eyes water.

“Now it will be easy to prove him a liar,” he sneered. “I’ll just reveal myself as her living son and that will be that.”

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