Page 27

It was a relief to be back in Sublune Creek. Away from the city grounds, from the smog and the noise. Sublune Creek may have been home to my very single-minded pack, but it was my home. Evander was in my face as soon as I entered the house. “You were supposed to be back two days ago,” he said. “Where were you?”

I held my bag closer to my body. “I was granted access to the university library. So, I went into the lycan history section, and⁠—”

“You were late returning home because of books?”

“Books that could help us, Brother,” I said.

He looked at me as though I’d utterly lost my mind. “The pack has been wondering if you ran away or something.”

I rolled my eyes. “I have never given anyone an excuse to doubt my loyalty.”

“You let the bloodsucker go free.”

“So, you all doubt my loyalty because I didn’t allow someone to be brutalized the way our kind has been brutalized? That’s hypocritical bullshit.”

“I don’t disagree with you, Syl. But the pack⁠—”

“The pack needs to get the sticks out of their asses.” I shoved past him, heading to my bedroom. As I stepped into the hallway, Caleb’s burly figure appeared. His arms were crossed over his bare chest, skin slicked with a sheen of sweat as though he’d just come from a run.

“About time you returned. We were worried you left us to live among the humans.”

“Why would you be worried about that?”

“You’re always talking about changing things, even when Antoine was alive. We should’ve known that you’d never be able to step into his shoes. You’re a disgrace to⁠—”

I dropped my bag and rushed him, slamming him against the wall by his shoulders. My hand closed around his neck. “You talk a lot of shit for a delta. Do you want to officially challenge me? I’d love the opportunity to legally rip your throat out.”

His eyes flicked down to my hand. It’d shifted into claws, and I could feel my teeth sharpening and elongating. My gums still throbbed from the venom extraction, but I would fight him to the death if needed. Even if the thought of it made me nauseated. There was no room in my pack for the continuous displays of rebellion against me.

“Antoine tried his best to be a good alpha, but he was heavily influenced by our father. Who, we can all agree, was a fucking monster.”

“Better a monster than a coward bastard,” he choked out. His last word was partially cut off as I tightened my grip on his neck.

“Do you want to officially challenge me to a duel, Caleb?”

Panic flooded his eyes even as they glowed, his body fighting not to shift. Then he lowered his eyes, shaking his head.

I released my grip and walked off as he coughed and tried to regain his breath. I kept my own breathing even, my heartbeat under control, determined to not let him know how terrified I was at the prospect of a battle to the death. I was strong enough to hold my own, but Caleb was purely rage-driven and had the brawn to back him up. I would never underestimate another’s emotions over the influence of their physicality. I’d seen Antoine’s madness drive him to extraordinary strength, and I had the scars to prove it.

There didn’t seem to be a time when lycans and vampires got along. Spellcasters were the odd ones who had no fidelity to either kind, though they most closely related to humans, and were mostly neutral. It seemed lycans became the most ostracized over the centuries, because we were too unpredictable due to the moon phases controlling much of our biology, even though many of us had evolved beyond that.

The Lucerin pack was known for their chaotic shapeshifting. Most Lucerin wolves were executed due to their practice of ritualistic human hunting in the past, and they were also the ones often infected with Lobofebris—Wolf Fever. The last I heard, most had either fled the country or continued to live in the wildest of woodland, completely separated from society, including other shifters. The last time one had been spotted for certain was over thirty years ago when several infiltrated Aethermore.

My pack was one of the first to obtain control over shifting, and the first known to have additional powers beyond what was expected. Antoine was gifted with foresight, as was my father. Naturally the gifts skipped me, but my bloodline was filled with magic.

Yet the history book said nothing of lycans with magic. It said nothing of evolution. It painted us as uncontrollable beasts.

No wonder we were viewed as such.

Lycan-vampire hybrids—bloodwolves—were even more despised. In fact, they no longer existed. Part of me was relieved, because the thought of dealing with the uncontrollable bloodlust of a vampire and the shifting of a lycan did sound frightening. Then again, I should know better than to judge someone for their kind. The book on bloodwolves painted them even worse than lycans.

Thumbing through the books, I found a small passage on how Lobofebris was contracted, via a bite introducing the virus into the bloodstream.

Rolling onto my back, I squeezed my eyes shut and tried not to think of my brother. It wasn’t very long before I drifted off, exhausted from my travels and the repeated interactions with Aura Nygaard.

Blood bubbled out of Antoine’s mouth, his golden eyes faded, words slurred. He’d ripped the dagger from his body faster than I’d been ready to. But the moment he was face-to-face with his mortality, the feral look in his eyes had faded. I was looking at my brother for the first time in months, and it couldn’t hurt any worse than it did in that moment.

I didn’t mean to hurt her, he’d said, not for the first time. He’d been covered in dirt and blood. I didn’t mean to hurt her.