Page 3 of Hunted By Her Demon Wolves

She threw open the door, a manic look in her eyes, before ushering them inside. Just as Horatiu feared, she wore the emerald crown. Her bedchamber was in disarray, which was unusual for his mother who preferred everything in clean order. The many beautiful murals hanging on the stone walls hung askew, the fur rugs that lined the slate floors were covered in stains, and the hearth fire, laden with far too many logs, loudly splintered while filling the air with acrid smoke.

He shared a concerned look with Lucian.

When their mother threw her arms around Horatiu with a sob, he thought to snatch the crown from her head, but her braids were wrapped around it. He’d have to rip it out of her hair. If he tried to hold her down to untangle it, he feared she’d blast him with her magic.

“Horatiu and Lucian, my sons!” She released him and grabbed Lucian. “Where are your other brothers?”

Horatiu gave his brother a warning look over their mother’s head.We need to get the crown.

Lucian nodded his agreement as their mother released him.

“They’re at the temple with Daeva,” he answered while forcing a smile.

Her eyes narrowed. “And your cousins?”

“I’m not sure.” He shrugged, forcing a casual tone into his voice, though his instincts told him to be afraid—very afraid. “What is it?”

She paced the fur rug in front of them, wringing her hands together. Gone was her skin’s silvery glow. In its place was a wan shade of gray. “What I tell you doesn’t leave this room.” A note of fear laced her words. “You may tell Dragomir and Cyrus by thought, but only them, understood?”

“Of course, Mother.” He did his best to keep his tone even as he used a fireiron to knock a smoking log to the back of the hearth. He turned to her, still clutching the iron in a white-knuckled grip. “What’s wrong?”

She chewed on her nails while continuing to pace. “Your aunt is planning a war against the gargoyles.”

Lucian stood beside him, grasping the hearth’s wooden mantel. “How, when we have a truce?”

Their mother stopped, her beautiful face marred by an unusual sneer. “She never wanted this truce. She plans to obliterate me and start a war with the gargoyles.”

Horatiu’s blood turned to ice.

It can’t be true,Lucian projected to him.

He dropped the iron and held up his hands. “That doesn’t sound like our aunt.”

Their mother stopped as if she’d struck a wall, a manic look in her eyes. “She’s letting her paranoia overrule her common sense.”

Horatiu and Lucian shared another look.

This is worse than I thought,Lucian said.

Much worse,Horatiu agreed.

“There’s more,” their mother continued. “She’s going to obliterate all the witches who supported me.”

Horatiu’s heartbeat pounded a gong in his ears, and his protector howled to break free, as his gaze centered on his mother. No.

“Daeva supported you,” Lucian rasped.

He gave his brother a sharp look.Don’t believe it.Though his warning was more for himself than his brother. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t.

“Where did you hear this, Mother?” he demanded, his deep protector baritone taking over his voice.

She averted her gaze. “I have my sources.”

Liar.“Who?” He pressed.

She turned up her chin, defiance flashing in her eyes. “Do you doubt my judgment?”

Yes.He did his best to keep his expression neutral. “I never said that.”

---