Page 76 of The Night Prince

The arched stained-glass window on one side of the ballroom shatters. He and James both raise their elbows over their faces to protect themselves from the shards of glass. Blake spins away from another male, his dagger even bloodier as his victim crumples to the ground. A rock rolls into the middle of the space.

Seconds later, men pour into the room from outside. Their shouts fill the space. Glass crunches beneath their boots. They’re wearing the star sigil of the Borderlands on their chests. The alphas draw their swords, turning to greet them in battle. Alexander has clearly sent them to attack, not to negotiate a trade. More of James’s Wolves spill through the double doors to join the fight.

James’s eyes find mine. “I need the lass! Someone get the lass!” He strides in my direction. Callum charges at him, grabs him around his waist, and tackles him. They hit the floor tiles with a thud that rattles the chandelier.

“GET HER OUT OF HERE!” he roars at Blake.

Blake grabs my wrist. “Time to go, little—”

He pulls me into his chest and turns us both around as a loud crack reverberates through the ballroom. White-hot pain bursts across my shoulder, and both Blake and I grunt. There’s another crack, and I feel it again, slightly lower. My legs buckle.

“Fuck,” Blake hisses into the crook of my neck. He holds me tightly. My pain dissipates, but Blake’s breathing is ragged.

On the other side of the room, one of Alexander’s men holds a musket. Adrenaline crashes through me. Blake has been shot. Twice. The man turns and aims his weapon at another one of the alphas.

I grip Blake’s back under his arm, and try to keep him upright. “Blake! Are you—” My words catch in my throat.

A tall male, packed with muscle, strolls through the space where one of the walls once was. His hair is black and shaved close to his skull. Even though he’s human, and the wind is cold, he wears only a thin black coat over his breeches, expensive and embroidered. It’s at odds with the brutality of his appearance. The moonlight highlights a mad glint in his eye, and the scar that cuts through his eyebrow.

“Alexander,”I breathe.

He is even more fearsome now than he was in the finery of the palace. There are no rules here, no etiquette, no one to stop him from taking what he wants. He grins and flashes perfect white teeth as he strides toward us.

“Hello, love.” His voice carries over the chaos. “It’s been a while. I’ve been looking for you.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Alexander strides toward us.

“Blake, we need to go,” I whisper. “Now.”

Blake’s legs buckle, and we almost fall. He buries his face in my neck and groans. A familiar scent hits me—a scent that reminds me of my mother’s bedchambers when I was a child. Herbal and sickly. My skin turns to ice.

The bullets were dowsed in wolfsbane.

Men and Wolves are fighting all around us. Callum’s roar reverberates around the ballroom as James straddles him and slams a fist into his jaw. Blood sprays the faded mosaic on the ground. My heart clenches. The sound of clashing steel and male shouts fills the air.

A wolf in a blue kilt steps into Alexander’s path, sword raised. Alexander blocks his blow, then guts the man with another blade. Blood and gore, black in the moonlight, spills out of him.Goddess.

“Blake, can you walk?” His skin is pale and clammy. Black curls stick to his forehead. “Goddess, never mind.”

I hurl his arm over my shoulder, and wrap my other arm around his hips, careful not to touch his bare skin with my wolfsbane-dowsed hands. I drag him toward the doors. We make slow progress. He slumps into me, a dead weight. He smells like blood and poison

“Horse. . . outside. . .”he rasps.

“Okay. Come on.”

He’s heavy, and I’m once again reminded that he’s packed with muscle beneath his clothes. He’s cold, too cold for a wolf. His shirt is sopping wet and I try not to think about whether it’s with sweat or blood. Behind us, Alexander pushes one of his own men aside. He blocks Kenneth’s blow and shoves the red-haired alpha aside.

“Where are you going, love?” Alexander’s gruff voice follows me. “Don’t you want to play?”

We reach the doors, and I drag Blake down a dark corridor. Blood runs down his fingers and drips onto the tiles. It leaves a trail behind us.

“Left,”he mumbles, when we reach the end.

Footsteps echo behind me, and I know Alexander is coming. Callum roars, in pain or in victory, I don’t know. I have to keep going. We pass what looks like a parlor, then a kitchen. I push open the door at the end of the corridor, and the night enters the house on a gust of wind. The scent of wild grass and the mountains floods my nose, and light drizzle sprays my skin. We stumble onto an overgrown path.

“I promised I’d come back for you, love, didn’t I?” Alexander shouts.

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