Page 5 of Hunted By Her Demon Wolves

I don’t want our cousin getting hurt,Lucian answered.

Tension coiled around Horatiu’s spine like a snake.Neither do I.Nobody would get hurt if he could help it.

They didn’t bother asking Damon where their mate and brothers were, for Daeva’s alluring, lingering scent told them the way to go. They nodded to Damon in greeting, pretending nothing was amiss as they hurried down the stone steps toward their mate and brothers.

Daeva and Horatiu’s other brothers were in the musty potion room in the pyramid’s basement with a ceiling so low, Horatiu nearly scraped his head along the top in his demon form. In his protector form, his back pressed against the cool stone while he hunched over. Though he loved visiting his mate while she worked, he loathed the potion room, which felt too much like a tomb.

Daeva mixed pungent herbs that smelled of fermented eggs. Dragomir and Cyrus stood beside her, their noses wrinkling as they watched her work.

They looked up, frowning when he cleared his throat. Ever attuned to each other’s moods, they simultaneously asked, “What’s wrong?” Their gazes flitting from Horatiu to Lucian.

He stood opposite them, pressing his palms against the long worktable’s cool slate top.Our mother has lost her mind,he answered through thought. What they were about to discuss was too dangerous to voice aloud.

Dragomir gave him a funny look.What?

We believe the crown is controlling her,Lucian answered, a hard edge to his voice.

Cyrus tilted his head, looking at both of them as if they’d gone mad.To do what?

Horatiu leaned on his palms, giving them each a hard look.She wants to obliterate Elria.No sense in mincing words. They needed to understand what they were up against.

Holy flames!Daeva released her bottle of potion. It hit the slate tile with a loud crack as the glass splintered, leaking out fluids.

Cyrus snatched the bottle and dumped it in a nearby basin.

What do we do?Daeva asked.

Horatiu worked hard to unclench his teeth, knowing they wouldn’t like what he had to say.We lock Elria in a curse chamber until we get that crown off our mother.

Daeva flinched as if she’d been slapped.Elria will never agree to it.

I know.He groaned.She’ll try to confront our mother.

Dragomir let out a low growl.That won’t end well.

Cyrus nodded.The two most powerful sorceresses in all of hell could raze the entire city if we let them wage a battle against each other.

Horatiu looked to his mate, a plea in his voice.Will you help us lock up our aunt?

She visibly swallowed.She’ll never forgive us.

He stood, dragging a hand down his face.I don’t care, so long as you and the rest of the city are safe.

The five of them stood as still as statues for a long heartbeat, giving each other hopeless looks. Horatiu had a hard time wrapping his mind around what he’d just asked his pack to do. Putting his pack in the path of two powerful, warring sorceresses went against his basest instinct to protect them. Yet, he had no choice when doing nothing could result in even more danger.

Finally, Daeva expelled a slow breath.Then let’s go.

His brothers mumbled their agreement.

Horatiu should’ve been relieved that his pack had agreed to his wild plan, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they weren’t brave wolf shifters making difficult choices to save their society. They were dragons with clipped wings, and they were spiraling to their doom.

* * *

DAEVA’S STOMACH TWISTEDin knots as they neared Elria’s personal chambers and she gaped at that wide open door. The door to Elria’s chamber was always open, for the queen had nothing to fear or hide here. She kept her living quarters at the temple rather than at the palace, for she preferred to be close to her priestesses. Out of the two rulers, Daeva had always preferred Elria, who was less like a queen and more like a mother to her and the other priestesses.

She couldn’t believe she’d agreed to Horatiu’s wild plan to trap Elria in a curse chamber. The queen would be furious, but what other choice did they have? They couldn’t allow the queens to go to war.

Daeva smiled at two apprentice witches when she and her mates walked into Elria’s personal chambers. The witches, one covered in scales, and the other in feathers, smiled back and went back to work setting out fruit, cheeses, and wine for their mistress along a carved flat slab of stone that sat in the center of a long birch table. Dusty, pink light filtered into three deep, narrow windows carved into the slanted ceiling above. Shelves lined the gray brick walls, holding candles of all sizes and shapes that bathed the room in a soft, yellow glow. Beyond the table was another room with another, smaller table and two chairs, a circle of wide, cushioned chairs surrounding a fiery hearth, and a low bed made of pillows and furs.

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