Dire Bound (The Wolves of Ruin, #1)

by Sable Sorensen

Confidence makes men sloppy.

Eight silvers today, which will cover Mother’s medicine from the apothecary for the next two weeks.

In a world full of dead ends, I’m going to make sure she has options.

She’s obsessed with the idea of the Bonded. I can’t totally blame her—superhot warriors riding mystical beasts and wielding mysterious magic? It’s intriguing, if you can set aside the extreme and punishing classism.

There’s no emotion in his dark eyes, none at all. The Siphons might be our enemy, but I’m certain this man is the true face of evil.

The love interest has entered the chaaaaaat.

Saela… she’s my sister, but I practically raised her. She’s mine. My responsibility.

Awful, piercing sound scrapes from my throat, and I keep going until I run out of air. When it’s done, I straighten and get to work.

I’ve always used pain to fuel my anger, to keep myself going. It washes over me, burning and biting, and I swallow it down. It ignites something in me. Something merciless. Determined. Unstoppable.

He thinks I’m weak for my common blood, then. It fills me with the sort of spitting, hissing fury that could get me killed if I don’t manage to wrangle it and direct it toward something useful rather than the classist, cruel man in front of me. Still, something rises up in me at the sight of him and at those harsh words. Rebellion. That’s what it is. A need to prove him wrong.

The only way out is through, and the packs do not tolerate weakness among their ranks. If you want any chance of finding your sister, you need to keep your head down and fight for it.”

Fight harder.”

But thankfully, I don’t have to. I feel a presence behind me just before a warm, masculine hand touches my back. Killian. The nobleman’s face pales a little as he looks up in fear behind me. He bows and then yanks his wife, confused, also into a bow, before dragging her back toward the crowd. Turning with a smile, I look up into glowering dark eyes.

FINALLY!!!!

But 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.

“You were born to lead, girl. Whether or not you believe that is of no consequence anymore. You must, so you will.”

Her power speaks for itself, vibrating inside my skull. It gives me strength, knowing I’m bound to someone like her.

“I’m sorry, sir, I’ve only got one room left, and it’s… well, it’s not to the usual standard that… I can see if one of the patrons can find another accommodation, if you just give me a moment—”

Muahahaha!!! One room?! Oh no!

Suddenly Stark is on me, his face thunderous, backing me into the tiny corner. “Who did this to you?” he demands ferociously, one calloused hand clamping hotly on my thigh. Heat flashes through me, starting in my breasts and ending low, between my legs.

Hell. Yes.

Anassa follows like a silver shadow, mirroring every movement with stunning precision. She and Cratos seem to be coordinating effortlessly.

Because they are maaaaaates.

And for once, it doesn’t disgust me. Because this unhinged killer is on my side.

Anassa senses my intention. “No,” she says. “You are above retribution. You’re an Alpha and your pack needs you. Return to them. Lead them.”

All this time. My protector, not Killian’s, not the king’s.

“Do you have any idea what it felt like to watch you at the Forging Ball in the dress I picked for you”—What?!—“swirling in your lover’s arms and bowing to his traitor father?”

Let my hands act out your every savage, depraved thought. Use me. I’m yours.”

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