Page 4 of The Alpha King's Mate

He’d slain the Crescent Blood Moon pack shortly before my mother died. I remembered the stories. No man, woman or pup had lived to tell the tale.

A dull thud hit the wood.

Then again.

Wood splintered, and I scrambled on my hands and knees beneath the table. I tucked my head down and held onto myknees, rag still in hand. The floor I’d polished that morning was cold through my dress, and it smelled of wax and lemons.

Pine and lemons. Just as Deeana wanted. The house would smell perfect for him.

Heavy footsteps followed.

Too many to count.

And over the wax, over the lemons, something new rolled in through the broken door. Cedar and smoke and cold morning air.

The house had never smelled of anything like it.

Chapter 2

Sorin

My officers didn’t rush. There was no need. I stepped over the splintered door and into the house, and Malakh growled at the scent of Gerald. My mouth dried at the thought of that worthless scumbag’s warm blood gushing into my mouth. My claws extended, teeth lengthening as Malakh made his presence known. My wolf rarely spoke, but this morning we shared a common goal.

To destroy the man who stole from us. Not just any item—my mother’s pendant. He’d left me with a cheap imitation and thought he could pull the wool over my eyes.

I raised my hand and four men scattered past me to the foyer. Three more took the stairs.

I sniffed the air.

Citrus. Lemons. Wax. The house had been scrubbed for company. How thoughtful.

I sniffed again, turning into a room.

Sweat. Female. Fear.

The room was still. Two men followed me in.

I stalked across the room, circling the table before I crouched down.

The girl gasped and clutched a filthy rag to her chest.

Pah. She is a mere servant, Malakh spat before pausing.

I leaned in and inhaled deeply. Not a servant. She carried the thief’s blood. I caught her wrist and dragged her out, ignoring her scream. I shoved her towards my men and they caught her, grasping an arm on either side.

She didn’t look like him. This one had a warm mahogany tone to her skin and hair as black as my wolf. It was piled high on her head, a strip of white cloth holding it in place. She tried to break free, which was laughable given her size.

A low growl rumbled in my chest. I let it build until it vibrated through the floorboards.

Wisely, she became still.

Not a breeder, omega, or mate. A lowborn bastard.

One by one, they gathered the rest. The screeching wife. The simmering daughter. A cowering gardener. I nodded at Zev.

The sharp crack of a slap cut through the room. The wife collapsed to the floor, clutching her cheek, but at least she was no longer wailing like a banshee.

“Where is your husband?” I asked as my eyes wandered over the mousy brunette.