Page 3 of The Night Prince

Blake pulls a face. “The Night Prince? Fenrir, perhaps?”

“Still in the Snowlands. Last I heard, he killed an alpha and married her wife. Ingrid, I think her name was.”

“Alex, then.”

“Probably. I’ll send someone to monitor the Grey Keep. He could make things difficult for us.”

The thread of light that Aurora gave Blake wraps around his soul and pulses inside him. He shifts on the stone, stretching one of his legs and arching his back slightly.

Jack frowns. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I can feel her.”

Jack’s nostrils flare, then he chuckles. “Luckily for you, she’s not a half-wolf who’s just about to go through the transition ... oh, wait...”

“Piss off, Jack.”

“I remember when I was first bitten. I didn’t leave my bed for a week.”

“Spend some quality time with your right hand, did you?”

Jack laughs as he stands. “And the left.” He walks over to Blake and clasps his shoulder. Concern flickers across his expression. “Learn to block it out or it’ll drive you insane.”

Blake grunts, and Jack strolls to the door of the chapel.

“Get some rest,” says Jack.

He steps outside and the door swings shut, sealing Blake and the darkness within. Blake rubs his face with both hands. He imagines a cage around his soul, so that Aurora’s thread of lightcannot touch the rawest parts of him. The worst of the feeling eases, though his blood still runs hotter than usual.

Exhaling, he stares at the carving in the stone above his head—the key with two crescent moons within. The symbol for Night’s prison.

The Northlands wind slips through the caved-in roof, stirring the scent of old blood. He wonders how many people were sacrificed on this altar. It was known that the former alpha of Lowfell secretly worshipped the God of Night. The fool thought he could offer up innocent blood in exchange for power.

Night doesn’t want blood, though. He wants souls.

More than anything, he wants the key to his prison so he can escape it and unleash his violence upon the world.

Night wants the Heart of the Moon.

He would offer unimaginable power to whoever brought it to him.

Chapter One

Ijerk upright, gasping for air.

I’m tangled in the bedsheets. The shirt I’m wearing—oversized—is slick with sweat. I’m cold. So cold. Ice pumps through my veins, and I wonder if I’ll ever be warm again. The world is dark. Grey. As if I’m seeing it through a veil of shadow.

A floorboard creaks. The mattress dips by my bare feet. A wave of heat washes over me, along with the scent of male and the mountains.

“Look at me.” The words are gentle but authoritative. A hand cups my cheek—callused and strong, yet careful. “Look at me.” More demanding. This is the voice of someone who is used to people doing as they say.

Helpless, I bring my gaze up.

“That’s it. Eyes on me. Now breathe.”

I suck in air, letting it fill my lungs, letting it clear away the darkness.

“Good lass. Come on. Breathe with me. In. . . and out. . .”

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