Dire Bound (The Wolves of Ruin, #1)

by Sable Sorensen

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

I went to thank him, and the moment our eyes met, I knew I would be his. It takes a special man to tame a wild thing.

Igor led me to this yard and started to train me—that day and every one that followed. He helped me hone my anger from something feral into something vicious, polished. Dangerous.

Monster. This guy’s a fucking psycho killing machine.

The Siphons might be our enemy, but I’m certain this man is the true face of evil.

“You know, you’re heavier than you look,” she says, and snorts. “It’s all the muscle,” I say boastfully. “Yeah, that and the humility,”

She steps forward before I have a chance to remind her that I’m not here for that. That I’ve already achieved my goal—I’ve survived. And I’ve gotten these two women up with me, to achieve the goal they’ve planned for since they were children. I’m happy for them. Even though I think their goal is nuts.

A lock of my hair, tugged loose from my ties, whips past my gaze. It recenters my focus. Silver. All my dark hair has turned a luminous silver-white, the same color as Anassa.

I yank my hair out of my tie and pull it in front of me to confirm—and yes, it’s all changed, every fucking strand. I’m an anomaly.

I’ve seen men like him before. The quiet ones. The dangerous ones. The men who don’t shout threats because they simply don’t need to.

Because if you fail”—Stark goes on, leaning against his direwolf’s leg and crossing his arms—“your connection with your wolf will sever and you will die. Good luck.” You will die.

She’s there. She’s just right there. The fucking bitch.

“Meryn! You made it in one piece!” “Sort of. I left my dignity up on that mountain.”

Anassa’s warmed up to you?” “If the warmth you’re referring to is fiery rage, then yes. Very much so.”

I stand there a little numbly, remembering that I don’t have a pack any longer. I had to leave all my things up on top of the mountain, right next to my dignity. Rest in peace.

Sure, because who wouldn’t follow a brutal massacre with a fancy ball?

Fuck, I can’t use this. Like putting jewelry on a pig. Wait, did I just call myself a pig?

But something has unlocked inside me, a monster I didn’t know existed. I’m not sure if it’s been formed out of the seething, quiet wrath that’s been building in me all day, or if this is some side effect of bonding with a ravening beast.

Great. I’m cooked.

What exactly does that say about me? A truly feral, vicious beast took one look at me and thought, That one. I’ll take that one.

What the fuck is wrong with me that I’d seek praise from someone who very recently threatened to make an “accident” happen to me?

I glance around at the others. Perielle smirks as if I’ve just loudly announced that I’m the village idiot.

“Stop,” I tell her. “We are not planning a mutiny on our day off.”

“The last thing I want is to put him out. He really is a good one, that Lee.” She leans over to pat my leg, smiling conspiratorially. “Definitely a keeper.”

If Stark is a black hole, Killian is a luminous sun.

Jealousy, I realize. We’ve never been in a position before where I’ve had to watch him around other women. Turns out, I fucking hate it.

“Dance with me.”

“Wasn’t a request, princess.”

“The lady is spoken for,” Stark says sharply, his hand tightening on my waist. I’m what?! That’s it.

I’m not a polite woman. I’m hard edges and impulse and self-destruction. I don’t care if this world hates me for it; I wouldn’t have myself any other way.

“The Strategos direwolves have convened and chosen their next leader. Anassa. You are the new Strategos Alpha.”

Stark, of all people. It feels like I’m waltzing right over the edge of a very perilous cliff. Hurling my body over the side, really. Granted, the cliff has ridiculous eyelashes and unfairly broad shoulders. But it’s still a cliff

“I will never lie to you,” he says, voice somber,

“Hold on to me,” he says, voice rumbling. “Tight, if you need to.”

I look at him with a start. Is that concern in his voice?

Why is he suddenly acting like he gives a shit after three months of torment? It’s deeply unnerving.

“You’re not going to get any sleep like that. Come on, the bed is big enough to fit both of us.”

Stark isn’t just strong—he’s godlike.

“Cute,” the Siphon drawls. “Is this what passes for pillow talk north of the border? If you want to know me carnally, darling, just say the word. Your personality is a little sour, but I bet you taste just fine.”

Betrayal burns in my chest.

“I’d hold her hair while she barfed,” Izabel says like it’s a brag.

She straightens and leans in to drag her tongue over my skin. It’s the epitome of unsexy, like getting licked by a lizard.

“I’m the rightful queen of Nocturna, aren’t I?”

“Give me the word and I’ll tear out his throat. All the lives I’ve ever taken were just training for this moment, my queen. Make me your instrument of vengeance. Let my hands act out your every savage, depraved thought. Use me. I’m yours.”

Mine. My psycho asshole. My bloodthirsty killer.

He’s done such an impeccable job of pretending to be what I wanted. It’s time to return the favor.”

“I’d tell you not to put yourself in danger,” he says, “but I know you better than that.”

bite my lip, suddenly self-conscious. “You’re worried?” He scoffs. “Never. You are the danger. Any person who doesn’t see that deserves what’s coming to them.”