Dire Bound (The Wolves of Ruin, #1)

by Sable Sorensen

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my twenty-three years alive, it’s this: Women in pain give men confidence. It stirs up something instinctive, deep inside them, that makes them believe they have the upper hand, even if every logical piece of evidence screams at them they do not.

Siphons, our ancient, monstrous enemy from the neighboring country of Astreona.

I’m still goading men twice my size into fighting me. But now I get paid.

The Bonded are the king’s most elite forces, soldiers who have mental bonds with massive, fearsome direwolves. They ride the wolves into battle and, rumor has it, the riders can even tap into the magic that the direwolves wield.

But everyone knows that the direwolves almost exclusively choose people who come from Bonded families. Privilege begets more privilege, a never-ending cycle.

My pulse speeds up as I clock the tattoos completely covering his neck, his hands. Not much makes me afraid, but this? Run, a self-preserving, animalistic part of me cries. Danger.

” she hisses, and the venom in her voice makes my skin prickle. “He’s trapped, and when he escapes, he’s going to tear the world apart.” Mother lunges at Lee, yanking on his tunic. He’s seen her delusional before but never aimed at him. A violent shadow passes over her face. Everything was perfect, so of course it couldn’t last. These moments shouldn’t surprise me anymore, but still—I’d let myself hope. Heat burns behind my eyes. “Mother,” I say, trying to draw her attention back to me, to calm her down. Goddess, what must Lee be thinking? It only sets her off more. “And you,” she says, turning on me, wild-eyed. “You are not where you are meant to be.”

“Of course we’ll help you.” But I hear in his voice the words he doesn’t say.

Anassa, running in the moonlight, racing down the mountainside, faster than wind. A sun rising, rays blinding and beautiful. A crown, its metal glinting, then drenched in blood.

“Daemos are known for their viciousness and battle prowess. Their Bonded tend to be large and temperamental. Their wolves, even more so,” Aldrich says.

Cratos. Stark’s direwolf.

“You are of Phylax. The guardians. You learn how to blend in alongside all the other packs, support them and protect them.”

“And Meryn, Strategos,” he says, pointing to the name on the board. “The tacticians and leaders. Masters of strategy. You more than any of the other packs must learn to cooperate with the rest.”

“Then, of course, there’s Kryptos, the shadow walkers. They specialize in stealth and intelligence gathering,”

“Above all of us,” he goes on, circling a name he’s written above the pack names. Siegrid Therion. “The Sovereign Alpha, currently a fearsome woman named Siegrid who can communicate with all wolves across all packs. A feat of immense strength and control. She is the head of the Bonded, and she serves as the king’s second-in-command.”

The two women who were lusting after Stark mentioned that his mother wa...

“Your energy. Your souls. Your spirits. Wolves choose their Bonded based on compatibility of that unnamable, many-named part of us that defies all true classification. They know, instinctively, who we are. Every part of us. And that initial recognition, like calling to like, deepens over time, like a river carving a winding path through the hardest of stone. Shared experiences, emotions. Trust. You will only become closer to your direwolf.”

“Oh, you’ll find this part interesting. You’ve heard of mate bonds?” Henrey sits upright immediately. “A bond connection between wolves.” “Precisely, recognized in moments of intimacy,” he says. “The key of what you just said is between wolves. The direwolves, once mated, mate for life. Their riders do not need to be together romantically, although it makes things easier, because the mate bonds have unique properties.”

Anassa’s voice fills my head, thick with wrath. “Some people deserve to die.”