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They won’t grind me down.
Not when I have a job to do here…and a pack waiting back at home.
The High Priestess, Lianna Rossi, is lurking at the fringes of my vision, behind the women she calls my handmaidens—women I call friends, all the way from back in Dreamland. I think Lianna sees this as a unique kind of punishment–that my friends are here, but I’m not allowed to speak to them, or them to me. Lark, Ruby, Iris, and Joy…the girls from the club, who were waiting for me.
Now, we’re all in the enemy’s clutches.
Lianna is a wraith in emerald green, poison on her lips and murder in her eyes…and her ruby red smile is wicked as she throws her hood back and steps forward.
“Will you give in tonight?” she asks. “The eros should be coursing through you right about now.”
She’s right; I can feel the drug’s effects, my clit throbbing, my breasts aching. The synthetic claiming mark and Gunnar and Oberon’s bites are the only things stopping an alpha from coming at me during this ceremony.
But I’ve never even come close to giving in.
And I won’t. Not ever. Not when Gunnar and Oberon are still out there and not while my friends need my help.
“You know you can’t win,” she says. “You belong to New Eden now, and your father…well, he won’t wait forever.”
I stiffen, Lark’s fingers briefly grasping mine in a show of solidarity. Lianna doesn’t have to make the threat any more explicit when I know what will happen eventually if I don’t take a Terra Vitae mate.
My father will take it into his own hands.
“Winning isn’t the point,” I snap back, my heart pounding in my chest. “Freedom is.”
She laughs, hollow and mirthless. “Your freedom died with your mother, sweetie. Give in.”
“Never.” The word slices through the tension between us.
Joy adjusts the crown on my head, her fingers trembling. Iris stands by the door, her face an unreadable mask. They’re all trapped in their own hell, just like me.
“Moriah would be proud,” Lianna says. “A goddess of childbearing, of fertility…wouldn’t you like to see Pacific City remade in her image?”
“Shut up about my mother,” I hiss, feeling the familiar surge of anger at the mention of my mother. She’s not here, she’s not the one these alphas are salivating over. And she would have hated this for her daughter.
I know that for a fact.
“Your heat will break you eventually.” Lianna’s voice is a hiss now, frustration coloring her words. Iris hands me a ribbon to clasp around my waist, her touch gentle, apologetic.
“It hasn’t yet,” I shoot back, tying the knot tight enough to remind me who’s in charge. “Four ceremonies, four alphas left wanting. What makes you think tonight will be different?”
“Hope springs eternal,” she says, but there’s a tremor in her voice that tells me she doesn’t believe her own words. “But Jasper…oh he loves the narrative, doesn’t he? The rebirth of his beloved Moriah in you, the next fertility doll for Terra Vitae.”
My hands ball into fists, knuckles white, but I keep them at my sides. “You can call yourself the High Priestess all you want, but you’ll never be the May Queen,” I murmur. “You’re jealous.”
“Why would I be?” She pulls back, studying my May Queen garb with mock admiration. “Is it really so great to be a puppet for your father?”
Her words sink hooks into my chest, and I look away. In the silence, my mind races to Gunnar, his rugged face a beacon in the darkness of my thoughts. Is he safe? Does he even know where I am? Guilt gnaws at me for leaving him, for leaving Oberon, for all the lies I left in my wake.
“Thinking of your alpha?” Lianna’s voice oozes false sweetness, and I flinch.
“None of your damn business.”
“Ah, but it is, darling.” She steps back, appraising me with cold eyes. “Every piece of you belongs to us now, every thought, every desire…”
“I’ll never belong to anyone, least of all you,” I cut her off, my voice steely. Even surrounded by enemies, my resolve hardens like forged iron. I’ll never give them the satisfaction of breaking me, never let them twist my will to their vile purposes.
“Keep telling yourself that.”
