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.

He’s not the kind of person who understands how lethal grace can be.

My eyes dart to the window, which is shoved open, letting in the icy air. Heart pounding, I run over to Saela’s bed. There’s nobody in it. Saela is gone.

AHHH!!

Mother sounds lucid, sane. As if losing her daughter has shored up what reserves her mind has left.

Father would hate it if he knew I was following in his footsteps, heading to the brutal war front that haunted his dreams. Father isn’t here.

Why should the Bonded get this luxury when soldiers on the front line are struggling, when commoners are starving to death and living in fear? What, because they have big, scary direwolves?

Being in his presence is like standing with a knife at my throat, and I find myself settling very slowly into my seat so that I don’t risk his attention slicing my skin open.

My reflection in the mirror is pale and horrible. There’s blood on my face and in my hair. The crimson lipstick is smudged, my eyes deeply shadowed. I can see the weakness there. The loneliness. The loss.

my mind is on the prince wearing my lover’s face.

But the castle isn’t peaceful at all. The quiet is… heavy. And the shadows move strangely, as though alive.

But face-to-face with him, I can’t ignore the grief throbbing behind my breastbone.

Then, without warning, he forces my head to the side. He leans down, his breath now hot against my neck. And his tongue streaks over my skin.

First real interaction?!? Lfg

Anassa’s dark amusement flares in the following silence. She’s satisfied, like my fury has filled her belly.

I hate how I feel when his eyes dart to my bruises. Weak, like Stark said. And worse, lonely.

“The delusions will start soon,” he says calmly, staring straight into my eyes. “Are you ready?”

What?!!

She wants to win, to prove herself the strongest of the pack, to crush anyone who would challenge her. For the first time since we met, our feelings align.

We’re two predators who’ve agreed to hunt together for the sake of the kill, but she doesn’t trust me any more than I do her.

“Better pace yourself, princess,” he says darkly, standing much too close for comfort. His deep voice thrums against my ear. “Wouldn’t want you stumbling off somewhere dangerous where accidents could happen. Especially after your miraculous survival today.”

Heheh

I’m awash in it, swept out to sea. His eyes find mine again, and I’m drowning in blue. The vastness of what he’s offering is overwhelming.

Turning with a smile, I look up into glowering dark eyes. The smile withers on my lips. It’s Stark.

Hehehehe

“I’m claimed by Crown Prince Killian.”

Girl WHAT?!

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

“I’m meant to trust you, then,” I breathe. When he’s done nothing but try to break my will from the moment we met. “Or you could think of it as using me to grow stronger,” he says.

Hehehe

“I will never lie to you,” he says, voice somber, and the words dig down deep into my bones, carving themselves into my very marrow. Just as I can tell that he often fucking hates me, that it brings him pleasure to break me… this, too, I can tell is true.

“I’ll take the floor,” Stark says gruffly, gazing at me from his perch on the side of the bed where he’s organizing his pack. I don’t argue.

NOOOOO

“Who did this to you?” he demands ferociously, one calloused hand clamping hotly on my thigh.

Hehehehe

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

Oh thank god

There’s something familiar about those eyes. Something I recognize faintly in the otherworldly planes of his countenance—but I can’t place it.

The body crumples with unnatural grace, beautiful even in death.

Stark’s touch is clinical as he works, but I know he feels the charge in the air. How could he not?

I tell myself not to look—I feel like I’ve just bared my fucking soul to him, and I’m not sure what I’m going to see in his eyes. But for some reason, I can’t stop my head from turning.

I take back every thought I’ve ever had about wanting him to be nicer. I liked him better when he wanted me dead.

“She’s dead, Meryn. I’m so sorry. They killed her.”

WHAT

Goddess, I almost forgot how devastating grief is. How it leaves you husked and raw, but never numb. The pain is like a gaping wound—one no dressing can cover, no shield can truly protect. The agony of it might lessen, but it never truly leaves.

“Meryn,” she hisses. “You are not in the right place to make this decision.”

Listen to your gd wolf!!!!

Finally, finally, the shadows disappear.

Im NERVOUS

The urge to hide the book surges through me, but something tells me it’s pointless. This isn’t just any book. He’s going to know I touched it. Like the knowledge inside has left some indelible mark on me.

Before she can finish the command, Henrey’s wolf lunges for his own rider’s throat.

Every peal of laughter is intrusive. Every smile, out of place.

Then, the sound of children’s voices.

WHAT

And then I see her. Part of me can’t believe it’s real. Saela.

Killian will help. He always has and always will. As I follow Venna back through the passages, I rub my thumb over my bracelet and make a silent vow. The king will pay for this.

NO HE WONT!!!

Killian’s lips turn upward. It’s a tiny satisfied twitch, his eyes glinting blue, his gaze calculating. Then the pain. Something slams into the back of my skull, snuffing out my light.

Motherfucker

“I’m the rightful queen of Nocturna, aren’t I?” I ask. Stark’s eyes spark, he takes a single step back, and he bows down on one knee, hand to his chest. “Welcome home, my queen.”

I know that's right

No. It’s soul-deep, centered at the core of who I am. It’s like we were once carved from the same bone, sharing blood and breath.

Fuck, I thanked Killian for it. Stark picked my dress. I can’t shake that. Stark picked my dress.

I clench my jaw and push a gentle barrier back in place to dampen Anassa’s desire. But it’s still there. When she isn’t trying to hide it, it lingers deep in my mind. Quiet but aching.

If I’ve been traipsing around, secretly a queen—fuck, Stark’s nickname for me sits differently now—why not a secret Siphon in our midst, too?

Hehehe

“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.

Oh im in love

“You’re worried?” He scoffs. “Never. You are the danger. Any person who doesn’t see that deserves what’s coming to them.”