Page 1 of Hunted By Her Demon Wolves

Prologue

Hell, first dimension, nearly 3000 years ago

Awarm breeze blewacross Elria Fangborn’s nape as she sat on her ironwood throne inlaid with markings of dragons and wolves. Her sister, Hecate, sat next to her on an identical throne, the whitened knuckles of her fingers popping against her silvery skin as she clutched the armrests. Hecate’s long, dark hair was twisted on top of her head in intricate braids that wrapped around each of her spiked horns, her golden crown sitting between them.

Though Elria and her sister were nearly identical in looks, that’s where their similarities ended. Hecate always dressed more formal than Elria, who preferred her hair loose, her clothes simple. They both possessed powerful magic, but Hecate’s was a gentle magic. She was the witch who brought the life-bringing rain. Elria commanded the fires that cleared away the fields, the dark magic, and the spells that other demons feared.

The sisters’ differing powers complimented one another, which was how they, along with their sons, were able to rule Atlantia, their sanctuary in the pit of hell. Two sister queens, combining their magic to create a safe haven for all demonkind. Though they rarely had conflicting opinions on how best to rule the city, those conflicts were resolved with a democratic vote from their thirteen senior priestesses. That was how they’d ruled for centuries. Elria had always thought their system worked well—until now.

Elria feared their precious city, their brave, strong sons, were all on the brink of peril. She cast a worried glance at her four stone-faced sons, Helius, Drakkon, Cadmus, and Damon, as they stood beside her throne, their hands balled into fists as they watched the skies from their position along the battlement wall. Hecate’s sons, Horatiu, Dragomir, Lucian, and Cyrus, were equally worried as they stood protectively behind their mother, their gazes focused on the slowly moving clouds.

Their boys had been their proudest achievements, and biggest blessings, formed of blood taken from their wombs without any male influence. By combining Elria’s dark spells with Hecate’s life-bringing magic, they had created their wolf-shifter sons, both packs identical to one another, with two alphas, a beta, and a gamma, though each brother within the packs had distinct magical powers and roles. The alphas could also shift into bigger beasts, protectors of the packs. They were formidable foes to any who threatened their mothers. The betas had keen senses and were able to scent and track their enemies from miles away. The gammas were attentive to their mothers, overseeing the servants and managing their appointments with local officials. Elria had no idea how she and her sister had survived all these centuries without their sons. She had never known such love before birthing them.

And now, she feared their days were numbered.

She wrung her hands together as she searched the skies, streaked with crimson clouds to mimic the setting sun in the mortal world, an illusion created by Hecate’s powerful elemental magic. Elria’s loyal dragon, Tan’yi’nug, flew overhead, the waning light that dispersed from the clouds reflecting off his crimson scales. Smoke poured from his flared nostrils as he watched the western horizon. Elria tapped sharp fingernails against the armrests of her throne.

“This is taking too long,” she seethed. This was a bad idea. A very bad idea.

Hecate settled her hand on hers, a serene expression on her pretty face. “Calm, sister. They’ll be here.”

And that’s what Elria was worried about, for she’d had a dark premonition their sanctuary was in peril. The gargoyles, tricky demons who lived in inhospitable territory far from their thriving kingdom, had requested a trade meeting. Elria knew the brutal demons had nothing to trade except deception and war.

But she and her sister had had a difference of opinion, and the priestesses had sided with Hecate by a narrow margin. Compelled to follow her own laws, Elria had reluctantly agreed to this meeting, a ball of flame igniting in her stomach while waiting for the deceptive demons to show.

Helius, Elria’s oldest son, whose features favored hers with silvery skin, golden eyes, spiked horns jutting from his skull, and long, dark hair, pointed at a thin black line that formed in the sky. “There they are.”

Elria cast Hecate a wary look. “I have a bad feeling about this, sister.”

Hecate sat up in her seat, clasping her hands to her heart. “Think what it would mean to our people if we can secure peace and open trade with the gargoyles.”

They didn’t need to form a truce with the gargoyles over a few skirmishes that always ended badly for the tricky demons. What they needed to do was obliterate the gargoyles, for Elria suspected no good would come of this truce.

“It means nothing if the gargoyles can’t be trusted,” she grumbled.

Hecate frowned, brushing dust off her silk sleeve. “They wouldn’t dare risk our wrath.”

Elria’s gaze fixed on that growing black line. She could clearly make out the creatures’ flapping wings. They flew much slower than her dragon, their wings beating against the air in an erratic rhythm like they were injured butterflies. Yet, despite their clumsy manners, they had sharp instincts and were dangerously clever. “It’s folly to underestimate them.”

“One meeting,” Hecate pleaded, plastering on a smile that appeared forced. “That’s all I ask.”

Elria shook her head. “We should be focusing on my ominous premonition.” Instead, they were letting the gargoyles distract them. A lead weight sank to her gut. What if this distraction was intentional? She wouldn’t put it past the gargoyles. Even more reason to be vigilant.

Her sister patted her hand like a mother soothing a child. “Until you have a more solid understanding of this threat, there’s nothing we can do.”

Elria bristled at the condescension in her sister’s tone but said nothing as she waited for the flying demons to arrive. The black line finally converged into an ink blot in the sky.

Tan’yi’nug flew above her, roaring out a breath of fire when that mass moved as one toward the battlements. Elria had to shield her ears when the creatures let out shrill cries, jarring shoulders as they flew backward. Then three gargoyles broke free from the pack. One wielded a big club and the other two each clutched small wooden boxes in their claws.

The one with the club landed first. Elria recognized Balaam, the chieftain of the gargoyles, with one batlike wing considerably bigger than the other, beady black eyes set beneath a high, hairy brow, and a pinched nose that twisted to one side.

Elria’s sons and nephews jumped in front of their mothers, blocking Balaam from view. The four alphas had shifted into large protectors with ebony fur, glowing red eyes, wicked horns curling out of their skulls, and long tusks that descended from their mouths, and the betas and gammas were massive black wolves with demonic eyes like their brothers, the fur on their necks standing on end.

“Drop the club!” Helius boomed.

Balaam let out a pitiful squeak and dropped the club at his feet, letting it roll across the stone floor.

“Thank you, boys.” Hecate stood, pressing her palms against her thighs as her long emerald robe whipped behind her. “Please step aside so that I may speak to our visitors.”

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