Twenty-year-old Claire must deceive a vampire prince to infiltrate the monarchy and discover their secrets while resisting her desire for him.
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Nothing in my life has ever been easy. Including the mission my family has sent me on.
My sister and...
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Ressentir (verb) to feel
My head. Hurt.
My chest. Burned.
My blood felt like was boiling in my veins.
My skin felt like centipedes were crawling all over me.
What was happening? Why was there so much pain?
I couldn't quite remember what I'd been doing just before I blacked out. It was like trying to remember a dream just after waking. Every time one detail surfaced, it disappeared just as quickly.
All I knew was that I had a burning desire to run. As far and fast as I could...
Because...
Because Bastien was one of them.
I needed to find the strength to get up and move.
The thought helped my consciousness return, and I held on to it like the tail of a kite. I followed it as I slowly opened my eyes and found my vision was blurry. I blinked, trying to clear the image, but everything was a blob of red, orange, black, and grey.
Then everyone was shouting at once.
Gritting my teeth at the pain, I lifted my head, squinting until I could make out the big blurry shapes in front of me.
Wolves.
Not just one, but a pack. And by the looks of the tight circle they'd made around me, they were... protecting me.
But why?
One voice penetrated through the cacophony of others.
"That was my gift!" screamed someone. "It belongs to me! I'm the worthiest witch in this graveyard! You did something to the spell."
A growl and the snapping of teeth followed.
My head spun, and my stomach was sick. Sweat trickled down the side of my face. I didn't understand what she meant. I wondered if the throbbing spot on my eyebrow was to blame or if it was something else.
"Call off your beasts, Hera! If you don't, so help me...I'll kill every last one."
I'd recognize that voice even if it were pitch black, and I was on the brink of death. I'd heard it inside my head more times than I could count.
It was Bastien. And he was furious.
The wolves growled, and their circle around me tightened. Bristly tails brushing against my legs and arms.
I could only watch what was transpiring from between their feet.
"They aren't my wolves!" the witch screeched. "They're hers!"
Hers?
As in...mine?
Of course. The wolf in the graveyard, the one with the yellow eyes—it was all coming back to me now. Yes, these were my beasts, my gifts from Diana. Finally, I must've done something right.
