Copyright © 2022 by Ella Fields

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, copied, resold or distributed in any form, or by any electronic or mechanical means, without permission in writing from the author, except for brief quotations within a review.

  This book is a work of fiction.

  Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Editor: Jenny Sims, Editing4Indies

  Formatting: Stacey Blake, Champagne Book Design

  Cover design: Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations

  For the hearts who had to bleed out to learn how to beat again

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  TITLE PAGE

  PART ONE

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  PART TWO

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  PART THREE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  THIRTY-FOUR

  EPILOGUE

  ALSO BY ELLA FIELDS

  Aster

  The sleeping sun brought a flood of newcomers to the tavern.

  Chatter grew in volume, providing more precious moments of escape. My eyes remained clasped upon the golden liquid in the glass before me as I fell into the woes and highs of the mundane lives surrounding me.

  Until the subject changed.

  Not for the first time today, talk of bloodshed reached my ears.

  Whispered and gleeful exchanges of battle and vengeance began to circulate at nearby tables with far too much ease. Such casual carelessness made it clear that those within this tavern—within this city of Vordane—had never known what it was to watch all they loved burn.

  As night bloomed in full and drink loosened more lips, what I’d assumed and heard proved true. This kingdom I’d chosen to visit had been doing the burning.

  My blood cooled more by the minute, though there was no need for it. This was not my city. This was not my home.

  The thought of returning to my own had me topping up my wine, the decanter hitting the table with a clank when the atmosphere shifted. The sparse candlelight flickered and flared. A hum, gentle yet deepening, infiltrated the dim tavern moments before its source.

  Patrons glanced up when a male was shoved inside the door, laughing even as he turned to growl at the two males who entered behind him.

  Wolves.

  Their scent and the crimson markings of a royal army upon their black tunics and cloaks gave them away. It had been said that most wolves in this territory were warriors in the king’s infamous legions.

  Fear and awe mixed into a heady wave of ice-layered warmth from the city dwellers. For the beasts masquerading as typical fae males were anything but. One could learn a lot from merely observing and listening, and since arriving in the city only this morning, I’d gleaned a surprising amount of information about the kingdom of Vordane.

  These wolves were both saviors and nightmares—stars-bent on shredding souls and livelihoods in their neighboring kingdom of Sinshell.

  What Vordane’s king hoped to attain from such brutality wasn’t for me to discern. Though a part of me did long to give the seemingly unconcerned faeries of this kingdom a glimpse at just how devastatingly destructive bloodshed forged from hatred could be.

  Interest in the wolves soon waned, the attention of most creatures given back to their liquor and companions. Two females seated along the wall in a booth by the door leaned closer to one another, their smiles and flushing cheeks earning them a glance from one of the warriors.

  Hit with a hint of nostalgia for the excitement, the sweet-fragranced wonder the females fed to the musty air, I tried on a smile of my own.

  It wobbled, my lips good for nothing more than fusing to the wineglass I gave to them.

  I drained it, then scooped a handful of peppered nuts from the small bowl before me. The silver-haired bartender had kindly delivered it with the decanter of wine to my lone table in the corner when he’d noticed that I was in no hurry to leave. Uncanny yet not so wildly improbable, the flavored nuts tasted the same as our own. I’d hoped they wouldn’t, but hoping was futile.

  I could run. I could cross an ocean to hide amongst unknowing strangers and allow desperation to make me believe my brief escape would help. That it would make it hurt less or even offer some perspective.

  But it hadn’t worked. Not yet. Perhaps it wouldn’t at all. So I ate, and I drank.

  Feeling eyes upon me, I looked up to find there was only one.

  A male with dark shoulder-length hair tied at his nape had seated himself beside a golden-haired female in the booth. He was missing an eye. A scar, severe and hooked, slashed through his sealed eyelid.

  The females didn’t seem to mind, offering broad smiles when he looked at them.

  I was willing to wager the disfigurement deterred no one, his every feature sculpted with alluringly fierce edges. Dark hair peppered thick over his jawline. His cheeks sat high, intense enough to suggest many a knuckle had shattered upon trying to inflict him harm, and his lone eye resembled moss after the rain.

  He was both utterly terrifying and beautiful.

  Two things I’d gorged on for years, only to now find myself in hiding from the heartbreak of it all.

  Yes, they’d enjoy him, I thought, offering a small smile when the male returned his attention to me. And so they should. They should enjoy everything he was before looking for something more trustworthy—something a little more tame.

  Forcing my eyes to the deep blue of the decanter, I refilled my glass and dropped my chin to my hand to watch two males flirt with one another at the opposite end of the musty room.

  It was everywhere.

  The inescapable poison of lust and love. I could indeed run as far as I desired. I could hide in foreign lands amongst beings so much like myself that they might never know who I was. And I could feed myself all the lies in the world.

  But just like the creatures surrounding me, I would always run straight back.

  The air curled and pressed in warning, chilling my skin a split second before the empty chair at my table protested, yanked forcefully and then taken by a giant. “Drowning your sorrows?”

  Him.

  His voice was low, as deep as the darkest depths of the sea, and edged with rough precision. Not a voice many would dare ignore.

  I tilted my head to study that scar of his. The thick, unmerciful slash. “Quite the war medallion you’ve got there.”

  “Not from battle.” Seemingly taken aback by my immediate addressing of his trauma, he’d tensed. “Now answer my question.”

  I raised a brow, secretly thrilled by his audacity. Then again, he had no idea who I was. Which thrilled me even more. “I don’t believe I asked you a question.”

  Dark brows hovered low, his tongue darting out to quickly wet his lips. Lovely lips. Thick but not so full that they stole from his fearsome persona. A persona that probably earned him whatever he wished, judging by the way he stared at me, as if suddenly unsure how he should proceed.

  I ended his torment with a smile, easing back in my chair. “I’m merely enjoying a drink.”

  “You reek of misery.”

  I paused, the wine halfway to my lips. “A hunter, are we?”

  His slow smirk was deadly affirmation. “If that’s what you need.”

  It was impossible to stop the jolt of energy that scorched through me, heating things I’d thought might long stay cold.

  His nostrils twitched a moment before his lips stretched into a devastating grin. He could scent it. A true predator.

  A wolf.

  I should’ve been ashamed at how easily I’d reacted—and that I’d reacted at all. But I had a feeling this male could say anything, so long as it was wrapped in the right intention, and most would find surrender the only option.

  “What makes you think I need anything?”

  He pursed his lips, then gave me a pointed look. No, he need not say it.

  I still waited, smiling into my glass.

  “You know I can smell you.”

  I nodded, swirling the liquid. “And what exactly is it that you smell?” I was playing a dangerous game, but I found myself too relieved by the distraction to care. Too thankful for the knowledge that misery needn’t be my only companion after days spent with the torture of believing it was all I now had.

  The glint in his eye should’ve been warning enough as he declared with utter seriousness, “My next meal.”

  Wine sprayed from my nose. I coughed, laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe.

  The stranger seized the opportunity to move closer, his fingers pulling back the curtain of my hair. The tickling, barely-t
here touch was a caress over every sensitive part of me. I coughed again, startled by its power.

  “You okay?” His mouth twitched. “You really need to get out more if you think a bastard like me is funny.”

  “Perfect,” I wheezed, dabbing beneath my eyes and coughing one last time.

  He nodded, lips still wriggling, but he didn’t move away. “Indeed.” He watched me, that eye stealing mine and narrowing. “Who are you?”

  “Most males usually ask for a name.”

  “Have a lot of experience in finding new bedmates, do you?”

  As if he already knew the answer, his features didn’t change when I shook my head. “I’ll admit to being the committed type.” I picked up my wine, feeling his arm at the back of my chair like a fire-warmed blanket. Taking a sip, I carefully set it down while saying, “I have a feeling you’re not.”

  He whistled. “Beautiful and judgmental.” My lips parted, an apology ready to spill forth when he gently flicked his fingers under my chin and grinned. “And absolutely right.” I laughed a little more, but it died when he said, “Give me your name.”

  There was no hesitation, the half-lie spoken smoothly. “Aster.”

  He cocked his head, a smirk joining his purred words. “A wildflower.”

  “Dearest commander,” one of his friends hollered. “I am sorry to inform you that we simply must be taking our leave.”

  The other laughed. “Not sorry at all.”

  Scowling, the male beside me looked at the door.

  His two friends exited the tavern with the females he’d been sitting with before joining me. One male with shoulder-length hair grinned and made a vulgar gesture, but rather than bristle over the loss of his nightly prey, the wolf beside me just made one in return and watched them go.

  I cleared my throat, knowing I should have taken the opportunity to leave—to move away at the very least—yet I didn’t. It was as if his heat had fused to my own, and to part would guarantee the return of winter to my bones. “Looks like they stole your next meal.”

  “Come now.” The wolf looked back at me with a wicked glow in his eye. “We both know as soon as I noticed you that I would not be leaving with anyone else.”

  Smiling, I ducked my head, unsure what to do with this persistent faerie warrior but certain I shouldn’t allow myself to feel any guilt when he stood and dumped some coins onto the table. “Take a walk with me.”

  I looked up at him. “To your bed, I presume?”

  His eye flashed, but he only held out his hand.

  It hung between us, giant and calloused and stiff, as though he wasn’t accustomed to doing such a thing for anyone. “I didn’t take you for a well-mannered male.” Yet I placed my hand within his.

  It was swallowed, his grip gentle but firm as he gave a tug, and I rose from my seat. My head spun, reminding me of the wine I’d consumed over the past few hours.

  Another slight tug and I was forced to lay my hand upon his hard chest and tilt my head back to see him when he murmured, “I’m the furthest thing from well-mannered, wildflower.” His head lowered, nose skimming my hair. I shivered when he groaned. “You smell like honey.”

  “I thought you scented something else,” I quipped, but the words were but a whisper.

  “Oh, there’s still plenty of that too.”

  Laughing, I found myself clenching the hand still holding mine, my fingers curling into the coarse fabric of his midnight black tunic as though I would fall back into dark nothing without this unlikely savior. “Better get me some fresh air, then.”

  True to his word, we took to the damp city streets of Vordane.

  They were less clustered than when I’d arrived. Some stragglers drank and laughed in groups, while others dined late outside restaurants. The moisture from the afternoon rainfall created a glow upon the cobblestone, weeds and shrubs and flowers lining the cracks and shopfronts still gleaming.

  In whites and yellows and blues, they shivered and swayed.

  My hand stayed tucked in the embrace of the wolf’s. My heart remained torn but determined to stay afloat. And as he appeased the curiosity I couldn’t shake, I felt myself slowly forgetting anything that wasn’t him.

  Recalling what his friend had said upon leaving the tavern, I broke the warm silence. “A commander,” I said as though I knew anything at all. “Impressive.” Though I’d gleaned that the ruler of this kingdom I’d decided to visit was stars-bent on seeking vengeance against their neighboring realm, I knew little else.

  We had too many monsters of our own to concern ourselves with the problems of others.

  The commander didn’t preen like a peacock, though I highly doubted he was capable. But he did give my hand a slight squeeze. “To the rest of you, maybe.” His tone held an undercurrent of apathy and something else. Perhaps discomfort.

  “Have you lost many of your brethren to this war with Sinshell?”

  “More than we’d anticipated,” he said, rough. “And I’ve a feeling it’ll only get worse.” As though worried he’d said too much, he attempted to change the subject. “Why haven’t I seen you before?”

  But I wasn’t yet ready to decide what lies to feed him, and I wasn’t ready to let him escape what he wished to avoid. “Do you enjoy attacking your own ilk?”

  The wolf tensed. I expected him to drop my hand and maybe even glower at me in outrage. Instead, he stared straight ahead to the sparkling river at the street’s end.

  I quickly added, “I mean, I assume it would be extremely difficult…”

  “We do what we’re born to do,” he evaded, tone clipped and stoic. “Protect and serve. We will bleed them dry for what they stole from our king and for the future they took from our people.”

  I nodded, having heard the tale from my father quite some time ago.

  The way he had spoken of this realm was partly why I’d decided to hide here. Over the fire, he’d told me the story of a young crimson king who had lost his parents to a battle that never should have happened. A battle with the golden fae who resided across the ravine that divided this continent of Nodoya.

  A grave and culture-altering loss.

  Regardless, I didn’t believe it warranted the extremes the king now hungered to deliver. Then again, I had seen firsthand that war of any kind never solved much of anything.

  The softest heart, Rorn would say, wrapped in a thick layer of impenetrable gold.

  Yet you quickly found your way in, I’d forever reminded him, the surest way to earn a blinding smile from him.

  Another tug on my hand brought me back from thoughts I couldn’t have. Not yet. Not when it was all still so fresh and too much to digest. Not when I needed anything other than the ache of him. “Where’d you go just now?”

  The wolf commander had stopped us outside of a small bookstore. “What do you mean?” I studied the faded etching of a stack of books upon the wooden sign hanging over the flaking brown door. A door in a city that wasn’t my own. A male who wasn’t my own touching me.

  My chest flooded with cold as what I was doing began to rattle through me like a slow-to-take poison.

  But before I could move away and concoct an excuse for my behavior—and an excuse to leave—the warrior’s low timbre froze my spiral. “Your heart pounds.” Taking a step closer, he drew my gaze and cocked his head, studying me. “Afraid of a little vengeance, wildflower?”

  Wildflower.

  It was then I understood what the name meant, and I felt both foolish and dizzyingly giddy. I liked it. I had no right to like it.

  I loosened my hand in his to let go.

  Instead, I found myself turning it over. Tracing the tiny scars and rough skin, I wondered over each one, of how injured he’d been in his lifetime to have earned such marks. And I wondered if months from now, the battered and bleeding organ within my chest might appear the same.

  I wasn’t sure which future scared me more—one filled with healing and forgiveness or a continued wilting existence.

  “Actually,” I said, my heart racing with a lighter patter. “I’m beginning to think vengeance has an unexpected…” I paused over a raised scar in the shape of a cross. “Allure.”

  The wolf rasped, “That so?”

  I threaded my fingers through his thick ones and gazed up at him with my lip between my teeth. “Yes.” His eye swirled, the emerald darkened with every shallow rise of his chest, and when he gripped my cheek, I didn’t move away.