Possessed by a Wolf. Sharon Ashwood
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swallowed hard. Panting, Faran regarded her with that unreadable yellow gaze, giving away nothing. She could feel the eyes of the guards on them both, waiting for an excuse to shoot. A sudden image of Faran’s smile, the private one he’d kept for her alone, stabbed through her.
Chloe was still crouched behind the display case. She spoke, low and soft. “I hear dogs.”
So did Lexie, and the baying was getting louder, breaking into the deep bell of bloodhounds and the growling snarl of coursers bred to bring down prey. Lexie’s breath caught. She raised her chin, forcing authority into her voice. “That’s a hunting pack. What’s it doing on the palace grounds?”
One of the guards looked up, his eyes cool. “I don’t know, ma’am.” Since the wolf wasn’t moving, a few of them stepped away, trying to get a better look out the windows. Lexie watched them suspiciously. Had the guard just lied?
And why are they—whoever they are—chasing a werewolf? she added silently. And who is doing the shooting?
Faran was looking at the broken window and giving off a slow, steady rumble of threat. Enough light spilled across the lawn that Lexie could make out what was happening outside. The pack was just beyond the gaping hole where the window used to be. Despite the gunfire, some of the guests had been escaping through the shattered opening. Now they scattered out of the way. At least two dozen dogs were coming fast, straining at their leashes. Their handlers also wore the green coats of the visiting Vidonese.
That was the clue Lexie needed. “Oh!”
Chloe shot her a curious look. “What?”
Lexie dropped her voice. “Does Vidon still hate the supernatural?”
Chloe blinked and gave a single nod. The wolf made a chuffing noise that sounded sarcastic. Lexie swore under her breath, doing her best to still the trembling in her hands.
Until Faran had finally taken her into his confidence, Lexie’s knowledge of the supernatural was limited to B movies and horror novels. Only a handful knew that the King of Marcari had vampire soldiers at his beck and call, or that the King of Vidon had a company of knights sworn to destroy them. And they’re still fighting. Brilliant.
The disagreement between Team Vampire and Team Slayer had kept the two tiny countries at war since the Crusades. The marriage between Amelie and Kyle—a true love match, by all accounts—was supposed to unite the kingdoms and end the hostilities. That was why all this—the party, the ring and the photos—was happening.
But if the Vidonese were hunting a werewolf on Marcari soil, all bets were off.
The hounds spilled over the window frame, howling in fury. Faran was on his feet, suddenly between Lexie and the dogs. The guards flinched, and the wolf froze, stopping just out of reach of his opponents. But he growled so deep and low that she felt it through the floor.
The hounds exploded toward him, but the rush didn’t last. At the last moment, the handlers realized there was a sea of broken glass. Swearing, they hauled on the leashes. The dogs whined and yipped and howled, denied their prey.
Faran stalked back and forth just beyond the litter of shards, limping from the wound in his side. Blood spotted the floor behind him. Still, his jaws dripped with saliva, upper lip curling to show long ivory fangs. One particularly ambitious hound strained forward, front paws rising as it fought the leash. Faran snapped, taunting the howling dogs. Guarding Lexie.
The tension in the room spiraled upward. Several of the Vidonese guards looked ready to start shooting, no matter what the princess had said. “Wolf,” Lexie commanded, fear sharpening her tone. “Heel!”
He gave her a look that sent ice down her spine. “Heel your alpha ass,” she muttered under her breath, dizzy with terror but showing none of it. “Now. Please.”
Faran stubbornly remained standing, but he fell quiet.
“Get those dogs out of here!” Prince Kyle thundered. “This is a palace, not a kennel.”
The west entrance to the rest of the palace slammed open again, the heavy oak doors swinging as if they were no more than paper. Lexie realized that the gunshots both inside and outside the palace had stopped. A tall, dark-haired man with a rifle stood poised on the threshold, looking stern and businesslike in a perfectly tailored black suit.
“Sam!” Chloe exclaimed softly.
For the first time, hope warmed Lexie. Sam Ralston was Chloe’s fiancé and like most of the warriors serving La Compagnie des Morts—the Company of the Dead—Sam was a vampire. He was also utterly reliable, exactly the sort of good guy one wanted on one’s side when the world turned upside down.
Sam was one of Princess Amelie’s personal bodyguards. Lexie frowned, doubt eroding her sense of relief. Why hadn’t he been at the party, guarding the princess? Why were the only guards here Prince Kyle’s?
Sam had clearly been fighting, the collar of his jacket ripped and the front of his shirt smeared with dirt. He strode forward, looking disheveled but in control. His cool regard took in the wolf, the hounds, the royals, and only faltered when he saw Chloe huddled on the floor. His expression grew even darker. A handful of other armed men arrived in his wake, all wearing black. They were vampires, too, judging by their pale faces and graceful movements.
Princess Amelie watched them approach with a somber expression at odds with her bright yellow party dress. She was delicately beautiful, with long dark hair and wide violet eyes. Prince Kyle kept a protective hand on her waist.
At the prince’s order, the handlers had removed the dogs. The baying of the hounds was fading, but many of the green-coated Vidonese had remained. Now they stepped forward. They were less graceful than the vampires, but made up for it with coiled, angry tension. And then one of the green-coated men pushed forward, gesturing to the others to fall in behind him. Clearly, he was their captain—and it wasn’t just his air of authority that set him apart. An elaborate design of a serpent and crossed daggers was embroidered in gold on his jacket sleeve. Those aren’t just ordinary guardsmen, Lexie realized with a fresh bolt of alarm. They’re Knights of Vidon! Both sides of the supernatural war were right in front of her, facing off before her eyes.
The knights were closest to Kyle and Leo, the vampires to Amelie. The two groups—so clearly representing the kingdoms of Vidon and Marcari—seemed to pull the couple apart with the weight of their hostility. Anger hung in the air like lightning waiting to strike.
Sam stopped before the princess and dropped to one knee, the gesture reminiscent of a warrior of old—which he was. He bowed his head, and the room fell silent once more.
Faran moved to stand close to Lexie, the heat from his body like a warm blanket. His rough fur brushed her hand. For a moment, with him beside her, she forgot to be afraid—forgot that she’d done her best to break the bonds between them.
Then Sam spoke.
“My lady, we have been betrayed.”
Faran sent up a howl, long and heartbroken, that stole Lexie’s breath.
Lexie watched the closed faces of the knights and vampires and wished for her camera—and not just to take pictures. Somehow she saw things more clearly through a lens, and right now she desperately wanted to understand what was going on.
Apparently, she wasn’t the only one.
“Explain yourselves,” Kyle said, his gaze roaming from the captain of the knights to Sam and back again. The room felt unnaturally quiet in the ringing emptiness left by the wolf’s howl.
The prince was young and athletic, looking more like a striker for one of the Italian football teams than he did royalty. His brown hair curled past his collar, and normally his mobile mouth was ready to laugh. But right now, he was furious. “Tell me why there is violence here? Why you are making