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Part I
Chapter One
Darcy
Late for my training session, I tore across the field where it was taking place, careening around other new Imperial Army recruits, who were streaming off the thick grass after their own sessions and making way for the Alphas’ next victims. I searched the huge open field, looking for my Alpha, who had set up this time specifically to help those of us in his unit who were either falling behind or not very athletically inclined. Since I fit in both those categories and was in real danger of washing out, my Alpha wasn’t going to listen to any of what he called my increasingly lame excuses. This time he might make good on his threats to actually kill me and put me out of my misery.
And he had every right—he’d warned me what he would do to me the next time I was late, and I had listened to him—truly I had—shaking in my shoes and swearing to him on my life that I’d do better. But apparently, I was such a complete disaster that even his terrifyingly stern, take-no-prisoners warning hadn’t quite done the trick.
I had joined King Harrison’s army two months earlier, full of glorious, patriotic dreams about defeating the king’s enemies and marching along with my compatriots as we sang the Imperial Anthem, the banner of our noble king waving overhead. Sometimes, I was even the one holding the banner aloft, a bandage across my brave and noble forehead. In my fantasies, I’d be beating the drum as the banner waved majestically in the breeze. I hadn’t quite figured out how I would beat the drum and hold the banner aloft at the same time, but those were mere petty, insignificant details I had yet to work out. I knew that if I imagined it, I could make it happen.
I had soon learned, however, that the reality of actuallybeingin the King’s army was not at all as I’d imagined.
What really happened was that I had to get up every morning at dawn, drill all day in the blistering hot sun, with breaks only for the endless, mind-numbing “classes” we seemed to have each and every day on the most boring topics in the world. Like sword and pistol training, which were called “Weapons Proficiency,” rather unnecessarily, I thought, when there were no real weapons involved yet. It was all theory so far, and I had yet to put a hand or even lay eyes on either a sword or a pistol.
Instead, there was nothing but talk and talk and more talk. Endless lectures on military discipline and command structure took up most of the time, and then we were dismissed to do the worst part of all of it—the physical training, also known as, to me at least, “the bane of my existence.” It was just another name given to wrestling and rolling around on the grass, and getting my ass kicked, as far as I was concerned, and it went on for better part of every day.
Now I was late for said ass-kicking, and there would no doubt be hell to pay.
My morning had been total chaos—I’d stayed up far too late, straining my eyes by candlelight to study for the exam my entire unit was supposed to be having after our morning training sessions ended later today. I couldn’t afford to fail another examination, and if I did, my Alpha would have every right to drag me, kicking and screaming to the gates of the fort, no matter how much I promised to do better or prostrated myself at his feet, begging for another chance. When I heard the bugle outside calling Assembly just past dawn that morning, it had jolted me awake but I’d simply turned over and put my good ear to the pillow, fully intending to rest my eyes for only a few more precious minutes.
To my horror, I awoke some thirty-seven minutes later to someone next door slamming a door in the hallway so loudly that it finally jarred me out of bed. When I looked at my watch next to my bed, I literally couldn’t believe my eyes. I was already more than a half-hour late for the start of my private session—the one Alpha Wyatt had set up especially for me because I’d been so bad at the ones that everybody attended. He’d told me during the last one that he was going to work with me personally, because he’d “make a man out of me yet, by god, and he wouldn’t rest until he did.”
Alpha Wyatt had been so scary that day, getting right down in my face and shouting at me in front of everyone, so that I had to lean back as far as I could to get away from the overpoweringly sweet scent of him. He was all sweaty and fierce, his handsome face red with rage as he chewed me up and spit me out. But the scent of sweet honeysuckle surrounding him wafted off him and invaded my senses with every move he made and every breath I managed to choke in whenever I was close to him. My pheromones had a little party whenever he was near.
I should have been used to dealing with the delicious Alpha scents by now. All the trainers were Alpha, and most were handsome and physically perfect. But there definitely was something special about Wyatt.
I glanced at the time again—and knew I was a dead man. Because as I’d sat there on the side of the bed, paralyzed by fear and dread, I had allowed another few minutes to slip by—each one another nail in my coffin. Alpha Wyatt would tear me limb from limb and gleefully dance in my blood.
In a complete panic now, I leaped from the bed and jammed my feet in my trousers, bouncing on one leg, tripping and falling no less than three times as I struggled to pull them up past my knees and then find my boots. I remembered pulling them off the night before and slinging them under the bed in anger and frustration over the things Wyatt had said to me that day. And at myself for being so completely hopeless that he’d had to.
I finally located the boots way at the back near the wall and pulled them out, cramming my feet into them without socks—no time—and yanked on a shirt that I’d found while I was under there rummaging around too. It didn’t smell too bad, and I had no choice, as I’d suddenly remembered I’d meant to do my laundry the night before, shortly before I passed out over my book from sheer exhaustion. But it was yet another thing I didn’t get done.
Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods, I chanted to myself as I raced across the field to get to my training session. Was it a prayer, a supplication or last words? All of the above? I wasn’t sure.
I saw him talking to one of the other trainers near the edge of the field—a much nicer trainer, or at least relatively speaking—named Alpha Brandon. Rumor had it the two of them were cousins and pack brothers. There was a definite resemblance, both in their muscles, which were huge and swoon worthy, and also in the way they were both far more handsome than anybody had a right to be. There was also something about the icy splendor of their eyes—not the color but the obvious disdain they showed for us lesser mortals—as they glared at trainees from under their long, thick, dark eyelashes and beautifully sculpted eyebrows. People said these men were related to the King, and I could well believe it. They practically exuded nobility, class and wealth.
I rushed over to the two gorgeous Alphas, throwing myself on my knees in front of mine, because it felt right to me. Gods, I hope he didn’t think that was weird, and get suspicious. Not that he didn’t already think I was exceedingly odd. He did—I knew, because he’d told me so about a million times. As I knelt there, my chest heaving for breath and noticing the abrupt cessation of their discussion as they stared down at me in complete amazement, I just kept staring at the ground. After all, you never knew when it might be obliging enough to open up and swallow you whole.
Since I was staring down at his booted feet, I saw the very moment when Alpha Wyatt took a quick step toward me.
“Well?” he said after a long moment in which I’d died a thousand deaths. His voice was arctic cold and implacable. “Let’s hear it. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Oh gods, Alpha Wyatt, sir. I’m so, so sorry I’m late.” I heard the rude noise he made, but I ignored it and just kept babbling.
“Sir, you have to believe me. I really, really am! You see, I-I stayed up too late studying for the test today, and...”
“I’m not interested in your excuses, Vandercliff.”
“Of course. And I’m sorry, Alpha Wyatt. So very sorry. But I know I can make this up to you. What can I do? I’ll do anything. Just please, please give me another chance.”
Instinctively, I leaned forward and laid my forehead lightly against his boot, but he jerked his foot away. “Are you kidding me? Get on your feet and stop groveling. Do you actually think this is the way an Imperial soldier acts? Get on your feet, damn you!”
I scrambled up and made myself raise my eyes to his. As chill as a marble statue, he glared back at me, his face way too close as he bent over me. Suddenly, he sniffed, and jerked his head back, glaring at me suspiciously.
“What the fuck is that smell? Is that coming fromyou, Vandercliff?”
I cringed, hoping he didn’t smell anything he shouldn’t. How could I have been so careless? So thoughtless? Why hadn’t I washed before I ran out the door? I had to bathe with soap every day without fail—I knew this. I had been warned.Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods.
