A River of Golden Bones (The Golden Court, #1)

“Yes,” I breathed, that magical desperate yearning making my eyes flutter closed as he planted a kiss on my neck.

He pulled away and I opened my eyes to find his heated gaze on me, filled with the predatory stillness of a wolf stalking his prey. His hand lifted off my thigh and my skin begged for the warmth of his dominating grip.

“Not here,” he whispered.

I swallowed, ice dousing my flames. Goddess, what was I doing? I was trying to seduce him in the middle of a sordid pub. My eyes glanced to my half-empty glass of wine. I couldn’t blame the drink for my salacious actions. Shame burned my cheeks as I dropped my gaze to my hands. I was such a fool.

“Ugh, I’m sorry,” I murmured, wishing the ground would swallow me whole.

“Hey.” Grae’s fingers gently turned my face back to him. “Don’t think for one second I don’t want you just as desperately. Every ounce of me is fighting the beast inside me that wants to claim you in every way.” His eyes were molten umber, burning into me. “But when I have you, I’m going to make you moan my name so loud even the moon will hear.” My breath hitched as heat pooled in my core. “And then the Goddess will know for certain that she was right for giving me to you.”

His words ignited my soul, a white-hot need devouring me. My mind raced with all the ways he might fulfill that promise. I bit my lip so hard I thought it might bleed, trying to steady myself. A wicked grin spread across his face as he watched what his words did to me.

I cleared my throat. “Let’s take the long way back,” I muttered. “I think I need the fresh air.”

He chuckled. “Me too.”



The cool twilight helped temper the feverish rush in my veins. That quick-burning fire slowed into something more warm and steady. Grae kept his arm around my shoulders as we strolled across the packed snow. Villagers moved briskly to and fro, hastening back to their houses and out of the cold. No one paused to watch us. No one bowed. Why would they? To them, we were just two humans on an evening stroll.

We passed the town square, where little shrines and rundown temples to the human Gods circled the open space. Dozens of them lined the square. The carvings above the archways denoted the different deities: a sword for the God of War, a coin for the Goddess of Abundance, a paw print for the Wolf Kings. A giant willow tree sat in the center of the square, covered in drooping beads of ice.

“Hengreave is beautiful,” I murmured, watching an old man climb up the icy steps into the Temple of Courage.

“It makes me want to visit more human towns.” Grae’s chest vibrated against my side, our steaming breaths swirling together. “I feel like we’re missing half the world.”

I was going to respond, but Grae froze, his arm around my shoulder tightening and yanking me to a halt. I looked up to see five men standing in front of us. They wore stone gray cloaks, no hoods or masks. Not Rooks then. I narrowed my eyes at the eldest man with the scraggily gray beard and silvery hair. His eyes flickered golden in the darkness and blood drained from my face.

They were Wolves.

“Hemming,” Grae snarled.

“I see you’ve found your mate.” Hemming gave me a smug smile and I curled my lip at him. “His Majesty has been worried sick about you, my dear. He’s sent me to ensure you have safe passage back to Damrienn.”

“I’m sure he has,” Grae gritted out, dropping his arm and taking a step in front of me.

“This is a pack order, Your Highness.”

The men behind Hemming looked like coiled ebarvens ready to strike. My legs grew jittery as I stared into their reflective moonlit eyes.

“Pack orders,” Grae muttered. It was the thing wolves said to end a conversation. Nothing mattered more than the will of the pack. Pack orders meant “you lose.”

“You must see what this looks like, Grae,” said another. I recognized him as the same guard who’d joined Grae in the training rings. “You running off with her, making a bid for Olmdere?”

“What?” I breathed.

“We’re going to rescue a member of our pack, Aiden,” Grae snarled at his once friend. “One you’ve all conveniently forgotten.”

“And after Maez is freed you’ll have a throne there waiting for you, hmm?” Hemming asked. “You planning to usurp your father and take Olmdere for yourself?”

“Grae isn’t taking anything. Olmdere belongs to the Gold Wolves,” I cut in, sidestepping Grae and baring my teeth.

“Then where is its king to claim it?” Aiden snickered.

“It doesn’t need a king,” I growled, surprising myself with my own words. Even spending a few days outside of pack life, that much was clear. And once my mind began to pick apart one rule, it began to question them all.

“You’ve spent too much time around the humans.” Hemming laughed, the group chuckling as if I had told a witty joke. “It belongs to the Silver Wolves now, girl.”

“You’ve spent too much time around idiots.” I took a step forward, and Grae grabbed my elbow. “And I am not a girl.”

“Come home, Grae,” Hemming said, ignoring my insult and using Grae’s name instead of his title to appeal to his good sense. “The King understands. He promises to be lenient with you and your mate.”

I took in a quavering breath, considering those words. More lenient than what? What would he do to us when he wasn’t being lenient?

Grae’s fists clenched. “Some arrows can never go back in the quiver, Hemming.”

I froze. Quiver.

His storming eyes glanced to mine and I knew then that he had remembered the code word I’d told him back in Allesdale. I’d meant it as a joke . . . but now . . . now, I knew we were about to run.





Twenty-Four




The door to the far temple creaked open, drawing the attention of the Wolves, and I bolted. Grae raced fast on my heels. I skidded sideways on a patch of ice, and Grae’s hand found my side, righting me as we darted down an alleyway.

“Grae, please!” Aiden shouted, his voice far too close. “You’ll only make this worse for yourself.”

His voice faded away as he cursed something and fell back. I prayed their fancy soldiers’ boots would slip on the ice and force them to scramble after us.

The alleyway was crammed with crates and buckets of suspicious-looking substances too frozen to smell. Grae tipped a barrel over and brown slush poured out behind us, turning the already slippery pathway lethal. The closest Wolf, Hemming, went down hard, landing in the frozen refuse. My lip curled in delight, but I didn’t stop, not for a second.

Cold air burned my throat, grating down into my straining lungs. I neared the end of the alley, unsure in which direction to turn. I forced my legs faster as I glanced over my shoulder to find three Wolves still behind Grae. The rest had leapt over the frozen slush with ease, using their leader as a stepping stone.

Three? I thought there had been . . .

I collided with the fourth Wolf, yelping as my feet slipped on the ice.

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