Chase Dubois POV
I sat near the window. The night sky in this little dragon kingdom was near perfect. Little stars in the sky. Big old moon shining brightly. It was quieter than home. I liked that.
I reckoned almost everywhere in the world was quieter than Hellsgate Pack. Quieter than Troita Moonhill.
And so, I stared some more.
Wished it did something for the blinding rage emanating from the pit of my stomach.
Maybe if I stared at it long enough the feeling to set the whole world on fire might go away.
"Alpha Heir."
I didn't turn. Only Saber Cole used that title anymore. Even my family stopped using it since the incident that landed me in the bloody chair.
"Your bath is ready," he said. "I can help you into the tub, Chase."
I finally looked at him, then at the room. It was small, homemade like someone went to the little market and hand-picked everything with the color green and threw it in here and called it decor.
In the corner sat a copper tub, steam curling off the water. I turned my attention back to Saber.
"Saber, if it gets so bad that I need help getting into the tub, I want you to grab that silver dagger you wear around your neck and stab me."
"Chase...*
"Stab me in the head"
"I don't mind. I can help—"
Saber grabbed my chair and started pushing it toward the tub. When he leaned down to lift me, I shoved his hands away.
"Alpha heir..."
"Go fuck yourself, Cole!"
Saber stepped back, hands up. No argument. He knew better than to push me when I was like this.
"Who got you sourer than usual, Chase?" He asked, keeping a safe distance.
"Did she come?" I asked, interrupting him. "To the picnic. Did she show up after?"
He didn't need to ask who. He knew exactly who I spent an hour waiting for near the willow tree.
"No, sir. She never showed."
Of course not. I sat by that stupid tree until the sun started to die.
Just a pathetic prince in a wheelchair, waiting for a dragon princess who never came.
"People have died for less, Alpha heir. Do you want me to…"
"No." I shook my head. "She's off limits."
"Okay, so?" Saber let it go. "Do you want... entertainment?" This wide grin appeared on his face. He was one of the few wolves who came close to rivaling my brother Greyson in skirt-chasing. "I found some local girls. Dragon whores, I swear they have the biggest tits I've ever seen. And the sounds they make when you are riding them… whoosh!"
An image flashed behind my eyes: Tilly Ann in that storeroom, head thrown back, a sob ripping from her throat. The best sound I had heard in a while.
I blinked, hard. The image burned away.
Saber was watching me. "So," he said carefully, "I can send some in to keep you company."
"They don't interest me. And should I point out where we are right now?"
He rubbed his face. "Right, your fiancee guest home. My apologies." After a little pause, he added, "How do you feel about your new bride, anyway?"
I opened my mouth. "Tilly Ann Winchester is—"
A knock cut me off.
Saber's head snapped toward the door. "Who's there?"
The voice from the hall was my own. "It's Greyson. You summoned me, you stupid fuck."
Every muscle in my body went tight.
Saber looked at me. I gave a single, sharp nod. "Let him in."
As Saber moved, I wheeled myself to the dark corner behind the door.
My hand closed around a heavy log of firewood, wrapped tight with strips of cloth soaked in wolfsbane.
Saber's senses went wide. Wolfsbane for wolves like us, was excruciating blinding pain.
"Chase, what are you doing with that?" Saber whispered, eyeing the weapon.
"Open the door, Saber," I said, calm. "Then make yourself scarce."
He stared a second longer, then shrugged. He pulled the door open and stepped smoothly into the hall.
I didn't wait.
The moment the door opened again, I swung the log with all the strength in my arms.
It cracked into a hard stomach. A sharp pained oof filled the room as the man doubled over, coughing.
"What the fuck?!" Grey gasped on the floor.
I wheeled back, the log ready again. "You fucked my bride to be, you arse!"
Greyson Dubois—my twin brother—looked up from the floor.
He spat a glob of red onto the boards.
His face was my face. But his eyes were not mine. They were filled with… something I didn't have. A wild, easy cruelty mine never held. And he was standing. He was always standing.
"If it makes you feel any better," he wheezed, a grin spreading through his pain, "I didn't fuck her with my cock."