Red and Her Wolf (Kingdom, #3)

“That night.”


She stepped inside the door, and though in human form, his eyes were sharp. He drank in the sight of her like a man parched. Still dressed in red, she was as a lovely wraith with her pale luminescent skin and large blue eyes.

“You’re the black wolf.” Her eyes were vacant, cold. “You killed her.”

He touched the jewel resting against his chest; he’d fallen asleep with it on. “Aye, I killed her, but it’s nay what ye think, Red.”

She didn’t even flinch. “I can’t even hurt you. I stood here in the door for an hour and you’re magic wouldn’t let me enter. Want to know why?” Such a sweet, soft voice. So at odds with its deadness.

Lifting the pendant over his head, he tried handing it to her. “This was given to me by Miriam, it’s the truth of that night. Come here, Red. Come.”

He beckoned her; an uneasy tension slithered up his spine, made the back of his neck tingle.

“For years I’ve thought of you. Obsessed about you, drawing your picture over and over. Always your eyes, they haunt me the most. And I knew when I met you, I’d seen you before. And I was right.”

He blinked. “Lass… please.”

“I hate you. I came here to kill you, to end your miserable life.”

Her words chilled his blood, froze the breath in his lungs. “I would never harm ye, lass. I vow it. I’ve searched for ye, loved ye then and now...”

She didn’t acknowledge his words, only pulled her hands from behind her back. Opening her hand, she showed him what she held. A thin silver hairpin, innocuous, and yet he knew it was more than a hairpin to her. It was long and sharp looking at its tip.

“Lass, what are ye--” He twitched, every muscle screaming at him to pounce on her and throw it away.

She looked at her palm. “What hurts you the most, Ewan?”

Her name on his lips, first time she’d ever called him by his birth name, he should have rejoiced. Standing, he inched toward her. Slowly, like one approaching a wild, scared animal. “I’ve the proof, lass. I can show ye what happened that night. Let me.”

Violet’s eyes blazed, the first time she’d shown any type of emotion. “Answer my question.”

He searched her face, every line, every lash seared into his brain. “You. Nothing could hurt me, but losing ye.”

She closed her eyes. “You took my ability for revenge, but you gave me another instead.”

Moving faster than he’d expected her to, she raked the pin across her wrist. He was on her, wresting the pin out of her fingers, but it was too late. She’d cut deep, blood welled from her pale skin like a dark bloom.

Ewan’s heart seized. He grabbed her by the shoulders, crashing down to the floor with her, his brain unable to comprehend what she’d done. Why she’d done it.

“Red,” he stuttered, pain caught in his throat, threatening to claw itself out, “nay, nay.”

“Hate… you… so… much,” she sobbed and her tears became his.

Grabbing her wrist, Ewan brought it to his mouth. Wolves could heal, they weren’t fast at it, or very good, but good enough. He licked the blood, savoring the sweetness of her, even as his tears mingled on his tongue. Rocking hard, covered in blood, he licked and licked, passing whatever healing he could to her, praying to whatever god might hear him.

“I love ye, lass. Please don’t leave. Don’t leave me again.”

Chapter 8

Dreaming, Violet roamed somewhere between awake and asleep, haunted by images she couldn’t understand.

Her grandmother Jana, standing inside the doorway, alive and aged. Her wrinkled hand beckoning to Violet with hurried gestures.

“My, what big eyes you have, grandmother.” A ghost of a voice whispered.

Jana’s grin widened, the sharp rows of fangs glinting with a coat of something clear, yet thick.

“My, what big teeth you have, grandmother.” The same voice, soft and unsure.

Jana’s eyes were black, full and alien like. So different than the kindly green they’d once been.

“The better to kill you with, my dear…” A sharp, brittle laugh punctuated the small hut and then two wolves jumped out. One red, one black.

The red stalked her, slowly, methodically. Licking its muzzle as its eyes blazed with hunger.

Violet stood, a specter in this vision, watching her past self huddle and cower in the corner; screaming with a bottomless pit of terror that’d blinded her to the truth.

The black wolf wasn’t moving. Its belly heaved as its slitted pupils dilated, then its hackles rose and it jumped Jana, tearing her limb from limb. The red wolf had turned, growling and moaning, as if seeking to understand what’d possessed the black wolf.

Over and over the vision played and she was helpless to its thrall. Wetness coated her face and soft moans rumbled through her chest, for hours she lay, replaying the past, seeing what couldn’t possibly be.