Page 1 of Rejected By the Winter Wolf

Chapter 1

Astra

Instinct, a silent alarm, snaps me from sleep. My skin buzzes, the tang of fear sharp in my mouth like blood. I try to puzzle what jarred me awake, but the small room is completely silent. My heartbeat is too quick, my breathing shallow.

I had a thought, a half-imagined memory, but now it’s gone.

A nightmare, perhaps.

Footsteps pound down the hallway, and my door swings open. A candle’s low flickering flame precedes my mother. It casts her face in warm light, and the hall behind her is swathed in darker shadow. For a second, déjà vu hits me, as if we’ve done this already.

Her mouth is open, ready to awaken me. Her energy is palpable in the tight space—rushed, worried. Afraid. We’ve spent so much time together; I know her body language like she’s already spoken aloud.

I sit up and shove the blankets from my legs.

“Come, Astra.”

That candle flickers wildly with her movement. Wax drips down over her knuckles, but she doesn’t seem to even notice. I inhale her familiar lavender scent as she pushes my clothes at me, then boots. She’s barely dressed herself. Boots peek from under her long blue nightgown, a knit wrap covering her arms and upper half.

“There’s not much time.” Her voice cracks out, a warning rumble before the boom of thunder. It goes straight into me, through me.

The feeling of repeating swells. Does she feel it? The last time this happened…

“Don’t linger in the past,” she commands.

I shake it off and hurry to put on the clothes she dumped in my lap. Once I’m done, I follow her down the hall. She picks up my worn leather bag, the one she made for me when I turned fourteen, and pushes it into my arms. Her gaze roves over my face, taking in every detail.

I’m taller than her now. Our similar features slipped away with age. When I was a child, we looked more alike. Our hair, our face shape. Now, just the bold golden blonde of our hair ties us together. My face is rounder, cheeks fuller. She’s lithe, where I’ve got padding on my hips, my waist, thighs, and breasts.

“What did you see?” My voice is hoarse with sleep and fear.

Her brows furrow, and she shakes her head. “Too much to explain.”

That déjà vu is still clinging to me, and I try to brush it off. Four years away from my home has shifted my perspective on my childhood—which is why I should’ve questioned why Mom wanted me to come back so urgently.

I hook the bag over my shoulder. I’d packed it myself only a week ago when she asked me to visit, regretfully leaving my apartment in the city behind, but it’s heavier than before. “Where are we going?”

My voice is hushed, regardless of the ward around the cottage that blocks eavesdroppers from listening in. Some things can supersede even powerful wards. She taught me that.

My mother pulls a necklace from her pocket. The amethyst stone swings between us for a moment, catching the candlelight. “Put this on.”

“I—”

“It will protect you. Please, Astra.”

My heart inches into my throat. A bad feeling slithers through me, oily and dark. It twists up my insides and demands I refuse. But I can’t argue with her. Not like this.

“Okay.” I slip on the necklace, letting the stone settle under my shirt. It’s warm against my sternum.

“Go north,” she says. “Do not stop for anything or anyone.”

“Mom.” I grip her free hand. “What’s going on? Why north? Why now?”

Her gaze burns through me, and I get the sense that this is killing her more than me. There’s agony in her eyes, and something darker than fear. Terror, maybe, but also some sort of resignation. I’ve never seen my mother truly afraid until right this second.

“They’re coming, my love.” She grasps my hand with her free one, bringing my knuckles to her lips. “If you do not go, they’ll kill you. You’re too valuable. I’m sorry—that’s why I brought you home. They would’ve found you in the city, where I couldn’t protect you.”

I jerk back. That icy fear rises inside me again. The vicious nightmares that have haunted my sleep since I was a child flicker in front of my vision, a slideshow of images I’ve never been able to forget. I blink rapidly, trying to will them away.