Page 10 of Wolf’s Fated Bride

“My balls quiver with fear,” Ash says.

Ash Fireborn has a dry sense of humor. Maren and I giggle, which earns us a dirty look from our dad.

“You must find a way to sign the treaty,” my brother says. “Use our pen.” Sören wouldn’t offer his element for help because it would clash with fire, and that’s the last thing we need while signing the peace treaty.

Ash picks up our pen. Blue ink drips, and the pen twists, losing its shape.

“You must sign in red,” the Peacebroker says.

“Your blood is red,” Ash says.

Oh shit.

My brother steps away, and I can feel the tension in his shoulders as he gathers the storm in case a fire breaks out.

“Do something,” my mother whispers to our dad.

“What do you want me to do?” he hisses back.

Sören’s Regulator, the one Maren’s been eye fucking, slithers through the crowd. Angry, determined, and maybe fearful, he makes his way to the front with his hand hidden inside a brown bag slung over his shoulder. Slowly, he withdraws something, and the instant I spot a shiny gun grip, I surrender to my instincts.

I circle the table and block his view of the people signing the treaty. “I’ve got an idea.” I don’t, but one will come to me, hopefully faster than the silver bullet my sister’s jealous lover (I’m at one hundred percent certainty at this point) would strike the Fireborn Alpha’s heart. Or head. I picked the heart because the wolf’s chest is massive and would make for a bigger target than the head.

If Ash dies, fire would jump to another wolf, and without the heir who carries Ash’s strength, we have no idea which wolf would receive the element. But history records that violent elemental jumps, such as those caused when an elemental werewolf catches a bullet, cause natural disasters. Stormcrest Castle is my home. We are not crumbling now.

People watch me, expecting me to explain the idea I mentioned.

“I have no title or designation, and my birth carries no significance. This makes me a good conduit for fire. If nobody opposes, my hand could be a conduit.” Before the others protest, and before the assassin fires at Ash, I pluck up our blue pen, grab Ash’s hand, and slam it over mine.

His touch burns the top of my hand. I hiss. “Hurry up and sign before my arm melts.”

Ash looks bewildered, but he doesn’t hesitate. He scribbles his name in blue ink, then lets go of my hand as if he’s the one who got burned. He even has the audacity to stare at his palm, eyes wide and unblinking, while I blow on my reddened skin.

I shake my hand, hoping it will cool off. Holy crap, my hand might melt. This is so painful. Tears prick my eyes.

Sören covers my hand with his, and I sigh at the comfort of his freezing skin. “Thank you, brother.” It’s like holding a popsicle after being burned.

“Don’t mention it.” He leans in so only I can hear. “Lunatic.”

“You had a better idea?” I whisper-hiss.

Near us, Ash tucks his hand into his pocket and returns to his table, leaving my sister standing there without a single kiss or even a hug. Asshole.

I look around. I’ve lost sight of the Regulator who might’ve tried to kill him.

This signing was awkward but not disastrous, and that’s more than we could hope for considering who’s in the room. Now comes the hard part: confronting my sister about her boyfriend. Her very human boyfriend.

Chapter 5

Runa

If Maren thought avoiding me was going to work, she’ll get a shock when she finds me lying on her bed, waiting for her to come out of the bathroom where she’s showering off Sören’s Regulator’s scent.

After the failed attempt at disrupting the signing of the historic treaty designed to save werewolf lives, Sven Olsen vanished. I looked everywhere for him. Well, everywhere my eyes could see, since I couldn’t leave my mother’s side for fear she would pass out on the table in front of everyone.

My sister retired from the party at midnight. It’s safe to guess that she and Sven spent the night in our bedroom. The audacity of him. Gah. He’ll get us all killed. Maren’s rebellion just might cost our lives. She should know I’m aware of their affair.

I can smell Sven Olsen all over her sheets. There’s no denying it.