SKYLAR

Ruts hurt.

They turn a male werewolf obsessively possessive and dangerously out of control. I’ve witnessed it break even the strongest and tear packs apart.

I pace the cottage the guards dumped me in last night.

If this rut has been ongoing for years during every full moon, I can’t imagine how feral in bed these princes will be. I’m an Alpha’s daughter, and heir to a powerful pack. They can’t just reduce me to a sex toy.

The floorboards are warm under my bare feet, and the small, beautiful kitchen tucked into one corner makes me wonder if the princes built this place in hopes their mate will occupy it one day. But the king-sized bed in the next room haunts me.

I let out a long sigh. They know I can’t escape. I’m bound to get lost in a territory I don't know. And I'll be food for Lycans before dawn.

I turn to the only window in the space, and my breath catches at the sight of the full moon. They will be here soon.

Pulse racing, I chew on my bottom lip. Will I really let them use me as they want for seven nights?

I don’t have the luxury of choice, that part has been established.

“Let me into the fight going on in your head.”

I scream and stumble backwards. One of the princes is standing in the doorway of the bedroom, his ankles crossed.

He’s tall, shirtless, and fond of violating my quiet.

“Prince Stevan.” My lips flatten.

He grins. “I’m not surprised. I’m the unforgettable one.”

Moving away from the doorway, his abs flex with each step.

Our staring match lasts two heartbeats before I lose. Slowly, my eyes drop to his sculpted chest and biceps. Strong men are my type to a T. But these granite-hard pecs are a new definition of strong.

Stevan is devastatingly inviting, and I hate how my body agrees.

“Oh, please. You four blackmailed me, remember? I will make sure to return the favor.”

“We did, but we don’t wish to be your enemies,” a charming voice tells me from behind.

My brows pinch. I still didn’t hear the sound of a latch this time. Doors, apparently, mean nothing to Lycans.

“Hate to break it to you, but blackmail is not exactly the best way to start a forever friendship.” I fold my arms over my chest.

He steps up beside Stevan, and their matching faces scramble my sense of who’s who.

Then I catch the softness in his eyes, telling this one apart. Is that pity… for me?

They all teased me back in their court, except him. I remember.

“The extent of pain we’ve been through is unimaginable, Skylar.” His jaw ticks, and when our gazes clash again, the raw vulnerability I see steals my breath away. “Isn’t helping us get rid of the rut in seven days better than dying miserably on the Slave Row?”

“Maybe you have a point, but what about my father? Is making me destroy my home to save his life a good cause?!”

“Look at you. So quick to defend a pack that has forgotten all about your last name,” Stevan laughs mockingly. A low, wicked sound I refuse to find sexy. “Do you really think the Storm pack will support you if you return? An Omega with nothing?”

They know something I don’t. I want to ask how long it has been since I died. How my pack has been faring. What leadership looks like. Zade stole a throne my brother Crane badly wanted. And he’s a persistent thorn.

“Well, that is for me to find out,” I grit.

“Do we tell her, Rayn?” Stevan side-eyes his brother, lips curled mischievously. “Or do we just have fun watching?”

Rayn? That’s the last brother’s name.

Stevan is a resident pain in the ass. I’ve known that since the first word out of his mouth. But I hope my face is not as desperate as my mind is to learn what they know.

Rayn moves closer, our bodies barely inches apart. Air suddenly runs out in the space. It appears I’m not immune to their hot, hard muscle, and that makes these quadruplets very dangerous. My fists clench as I lift my chin.

Also, there’s this loud, erratic sound everywhere. I realize it’s coming from my chest.

“What Stevan is trying to say is that you won’t get anywhere with luck and a temper. You will need more than that to dethrone Alpha Zade Roland, who’s ruled the Storm pack for three years and counting.”

Three years? My heart stops. I was reborn three years in the future after dying. I blink, holding back tears, but I end up feeling wetness on my cheek. Why did the moon goddess grant me a second chance?

“Skylar, you need to choose your allies wisely,” he whispers in my ear, sounding like silk.

I suck in a rush of air as Stevan pushes open the bedroom door.

Amongst all the princes, I trust Rayn to keep his word. He will help me when the time comes if I help them now. The rut will end in seven days, and then I’ll open the wards with my blood.

I’ll endanger the Storm pack by doing that, but as long as the wards are put back, no one has to know the Lycans ever had access.

“One last thing. How do you intend to break the bond about to be formed between us?” I ask no one in particular.

“You were never meant to be ours, the bond will fade as soon as the rut does,” Rayn replies, and I swallow.

I glance at the front door, control slipping fast from my hands.

Stevan blocks my view of it, a slow smile creeping onto his face, as if he can read my thoughts.

“You’re the only person in existence who has access to this building. It’s strictly on invitation.” His voice is dark and momentarily chilling. His smile vague.

I face forward again, counting to five in my head. Seven nights. Then I’ll strike. I enter the bedroom.

One of the princes is seated at the edge of the bed, his head lowered, his torso slick with sweat. I register the broken cuffs around his wrists, and sniff once, twice. The air tastes of copper and wild musk.

I try to approach the bed, wondering if he’s okay.

But his head snaps up and eyes the color of glacial ice pin me in place. My lips part. I stumble back.

He fists the mattress until his knuckles turn white, as if that’s the only thing stopping him from lunging at me.

“Say my name, Skylar. Say it.” His voice is a needy rasp, nothing like it was at the auction.

“Dariel?”

A guttural groan slips out of him. His head tips back, his throat pulsing. My traitorous eyes drop to the massive bulge straining against his pants. I clamp my mouth shut, shaking my head.

I whirl around to flee, slamming right into a hard wall, dizzying me.

“Dariel and Luka went into rut an hour ago. Can't you see they are in pain?” Rayn tells me, standing by the corner with Stevan, watching.

The prince in front of me swoops me into his arms and buries his head in the crook of my neck.

“Luka…” I attempt to free myself.

His fangs brush against my skin but never bite. “No. Don’t run from me, little slave,” he moans in my ear, and my legs turn to jelly despite the insult. What the fuck is happening to me? Where’s my brain?

I push at his chest again, then I hear it. A sudden, low growl close behind. My body freezes over. I’m trapped in between two feral wolves… and no part of me hates the idea of it.

It quickly turns to four as Stevan and Rayn decide watching isn't enough.

“We are going to ruin you,” Dariel tells me.

Stevan nips my earlobe whispering, “And fuck the life out of you.”

“You will be bonded to only us,” Rayn adds, but I notice how Luka chooses to remain silent.

I stare up at the ceiling when their hands sensually start trailing up my body, in between my legs to where I've been aching since meeting them.

Pain jolts my omega wolf awake, and a howl rips out of me as soon as they bite me. Four sets of fangs. Four brands of claims. I belong to the Lycan princes of Lunari now.

But when the haze clears, something flutters low in my belly. My lungs go lax with fear.

Zade’s baby is alive.