Princess of the Pack by Saranna Dewylde

Author:Saranna Dewylde [Dewylde, Saranna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Fantasy, Paranormal, Werewolves & Shifters
Amazon: B010KJP83E
Published: 2015-06-27T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Marchessa dreamt.

She dreamt of pretty things like angel’s wings, but there were dark things that stalked her feverscape.

Dark things that had no business in the waking world, the daylight, and they grabbed her hard, pulled her down, wanted to keep her there with them. They wanted to drink her down like some exotic cocktail.

If she stayed down in the deep dark, it didn’t hurt.

She couldn’t feel her body burning. It felt like someone had peeled off her skin and every nerve was exposed and all she could do was suffer.

No, down in the deep dark, with the bad things it was cool and quiet. Safe with the bad things that would swallow her whole.

If she let them have her, the pain would end.

Poison on her tongue, like chilled venom. It was cold, so cold. Like metal.

She tried to tear it out, but she couldn’t reach her face. Something locked her hands into place.

The stench of burning flesh and animal hair was rancid and turned her stomach. But she couldn’t get away from it. Not even if she stayed down deep.

But down deep wasn’t for Alpha bitches. It was for the weak. It was for prey and those who would be prey rather than predators.

She was a predator.

Marchessa fought her way to the surface, struggled to breathe and when she did, she smelled lemons.

Lemons everywhere.

It was light and tart, with just a hint of sweet.

She managed to open her eyes and found that she lay on a bed of grass in an orchard of lemon trees. The bright yellow fruits were so vivid, they almost hurt to look at them. Such a contrast to the green of the leaves, and green grassy countryside that lay open and ripe for miles.

For a moment, she wondered if she was in heaven.

Until she saw Antony leaning over her.

Nope, still in hell.

“Where am I?” she croaked like a bullfrog.

“Roluscany,” he said quietly.

“How long?” It felt like a century. Her teeth were strangely smooth. She’d expected them to feel like they were wearing a sweater. The rest of her mouth did.

“Weeks.”

“Go eat something. Your cheeks are hollow,” she commanded weakly.

She struggled to pull herself up, but her limbs were like jelly and refused to obey her. She was as weak as a kitten.

“I thought you were going to die.”

She saw his face was a tightly knit mask of concern and fear. Her heart twisted in on itself for him. She couldn’t stand the thought of him suffering, even if she was still pissed at him.

“Obviously, I’m fine.” Well, that was a lie. She was refried shit. “What happened?”

“You were shot by a hunter.”

“Did you catch him and rip off his face?” she growled.

He looked even more pained. “No. I had to get the silver out of your system.”

“Silver?” That explained a lot. Like why she felt like she was dead. Why he’d been so concerned.

There was something else wrong. She could feel it. “What else,” she asked. “Tell me.”

“With my venom in your blood, the silver…” He scrubbed a hand over his face.

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