A King's Weakness (Book 1)

Chapter 14

THE COOL NIGHT AIR TASTES DELICIOUS as it runs across my tongue, which is now infinitely more sensitive to scents than before. Trees, soil, animals—it all explodes against my senses. Ryder runs alongside me, barking out what I imagine to be laughter whenever I trip or make an excited yipping noise.

I don't yet know how to work this new body, but I'm learning fast. I can see everything so clearly, even in the dark, and I'm able to hear things that no human should be able to. But then again, I'm not human.

My fur is black as pitch, darker than the darkest onyx, which makes it easy for me to blend into the shadows and pounce on Ryder. He, on the other hand, is a ghostly grey, and the moonlight illuminates his coat, making him an easy target. He is a good sport about it, yelping dramatically when I nip at his tail and letting me tackle him to the ground.

I am strong as a wolf, precise when I practice hunting him—it makes me feel powerful.

After a while, the game changes. He slowly starts to make me the prey, dashing out of the way before I can attack, circling back to bite softly at my ears or my flank. He's more practiced than I am; he's had years to adjust to having four legs and and a snout.

He has me on the run soon enough, and I dash away from him, weaving between the trees until I find a dark spot to hide in. I crouch down, tucking my tail awkwardly around me—I don't really know what to do with it yet. I watch gleefully as Ryder bounds past my little den, ears flicked forward to listen for sounds ahead of him, where he thinks I am still running.

I rest my head on top of my paws, never taking my eyes off of his retreating form. Once he is far enough away, I'll pounce. He'll never see me coming.

I bunch my muscles, quivering with anticipation, when I suddenly hear a beautiful, haunting howl fill the night air. It fills me with longing, and I feel the unbidden urge to return the sound, to find the rest of the pack. To be one of them—no matter if it's only for a night.

My heart sings along with the other wolves, thudding happily in my chest, and I lift my snout to join the chorus. Before I have the chance to test out my new vocals, I smell something familiar. In the split second it takes me to place the scent, she has already found me.

Sneaky bitch.

Lyra is lovely in both of her forms, and I manage to get a glimpse of her russet brown wolf before she lunges. She catches me before I am able to run, knocking into me when I'm half-raised from the ground. The blow forces the air from my lungs, making me pant to replace it.

I struggle to push her off of me, but she growls deeply and pulls her lips back from her teeth. This is not the playful fight with Ryder; when Lyra lowers her fangs to my shoulder, she means to hurt me. I strike first, barely grazing her ear. It's enough to make her to pull back for a second, and I use that time to slide out from under her. She recovers quickly, snapping at my hip. Her aim is true, and she bites deeply into my flank, drawing blood.

My resulting yelp quickly turns in to a deep, menacing growl. The pain makes me see red, and I dive at her without thinking. We are nowhere near evenly matched; she has years of experience and is defending what she perceives as her claim. I am unsteady on my feet, unsure of myself, but I have a rage that is slowly igniting, threatening to burn me alive.

We go down in a pile of fur, growls and snarls echoing loudly through the previously quiet darkness. She lands several more deep bites on me, cutting painfully into my flesh, but I scramble away before she can do any real damage.

Dark emotions bubble up within me, whispering horrifying things to my heart. This girl has been cruel to me for no reason, she seems to take joy in hurting me, and now she's trying to kill me.

And I hate her for it. Ugly thoughts tell me that I can make her hurt—I have the power to make her bleed; I can make her beg for my forgiveness.

The worst part is that right now, I want all of that. I want to give in to the violence brewing inside me, dousing me in wave after wave of fear, hatred, fury, and agony. I am barely holding onto a single, silver thread of humanity.

Lyra has me pinned, and victory shines in her eyes as she lowers her muzzle to my throat. She is completely oblivious to the power struggle happening in my heart; she knows only glee at my fear.

Energy brims inside me; my capacity for violence is endless, and I relish the sensation. I reach my breaking point at the same instant that Ryder flies into Lyra with a furious roar. He is not playing like he did with me, but he doesn't aim to kill her, either.

I push myself upright and shake the dirt from my pelt, all the while keeping my head low, snarling at the other she-wolf. Ryder doesn't pay attention to me—I'm not his concern. He doesn't know the fury that fuels me right now.

Lyra snarls at him, snapping with her teeth together in warning. A deep growl vibrates his entire chest, and even I can feel the order in it: submit.

The rage in my blood calms slightly when Lyra lies down, rolling over to show her soft underbelly to him. He moves silently, a ghost closing the distance between them, and then grabs the skin of her throat with his teeth. She is still as a statue, not moving a muscle to defend herself when he puts enough pressure on her windpipe until even I can hear her breathing become difficult.

When Ryder draws back from her, his snout is stained red with her blood. There isn't much, just enough to get the message across. Lyra remains on her back for a moment longer, then tucks her legs underneath her and lurches to her feet. The murder in her eyes is unmistakeable, but she can do nothing to hurt me with her alpha here.

The grey wolf pads over to me, running his nose along my sides, searching for wounds. He finds each place where she cut my flesh, gently licking the bite marks. The first time he does it, I jump, a low whine in my throat. When he moves to the next wound, carefully nudging an uninjured spot next to it in warning, I hold still.

Lyra watches us the entire time, and although I'm exhausted, I hold her gaze, flashing my teeth in warning. She wanted a fight, but now she has a war. She will never catch me by surprise again.

At some point, my entire body tightens uncomfortably, muscles bunching and bones aching as though they actually want to splinter. Ryder shifts back when he notices my growing discomfort, and I realize vaguely that he's naked.

Yet another wolf trots into view, though this one is holding a pair of basketball shorts gingerly between his teeth.

And then Ryder is back by my side, softly murmuring words of comfort to me as my body battles to shift back. The pain takes over, and I lose myself to its dark waves.