Chapter Thirty-Three

Two wasted hours later, Laura was finally free.

She was speed walking through the throng of slow moving guests, heels in hand.

The scent of Queen Lana had long faded, so Laura moved in the direction of the royals’ wing.

*Fuck it’s hot.*

As she drew closer to the side of the castle where the wing was located, the amount of shifters milling about decreased to no one. She was left with the company of her feet padding the cool marble–which wasn’t doing enough to cool her down. Nevertheless, she picked up the pace…

Only to suddenly grind to a halt.

“Move.”

Derek Grayson stepped out from an adjacent corridor to stand directly in her path. He looked more relaxed now than he did at dinner, hands in the pockets of his trousers.

“In a different direction.” Her eyes narrowed as he approached her.

“You know.. I just can’t stop thinking–how dare a mutt like you continue to ac–”

He stopped himself mid-tangent as he audibly inhaled.

A cruel smile ran across his lips.

She blinked and suddenly he was in her space. His face suspiciously regained his usual cool demeanor. His breath ruffled her lashes as he leaned down, closer.

He breathed deep again, as his hand ensnared her hair.

“That’s quite the flushed look you have,” He almost whispered the words, his voice dropping an octave.

Laura barely registered that she was in fact lightly panting, and did actually feel a bit flush.

“Let go of my hair.” She didn’t have time for his shit.

He continued as if she said nothing.

“Such a sweet scent.”

His eyes took on a dangerous glow, shifting to an electric blue.

*This crazy fucker.*

But her heart was climbing to her throat. She was going into heat again.

His hand moved from her hair to cup the side of her neck, his nails noticeably sharper.

“So even a wolfless mutt like you can have a mate. I wonder.. If I mark you, what damage would be done to that pretty little head.” He licked his lips, the twisted smile turning to a permanent fixture as he started to drown in her scent.

He was crossing the line to his death.

Marking a female who wasn’t your bond was possible–and not an uncommon practice for those who don’t find their mate by a certain age. However, forcing a mate bond was extremely frowned upon in society and one of the few instances that could give one rogue status, though there have been cases where a not-yet marked female who’s come into contact with her mate, and has gone into heat, have been marked by someone else and muddled the true bond. Laura’s heard of a couple of cases with lasting psychological effects from Michael.

“Let go.”

She let the words bleed with undertones–half from panic, half from anger.

He blinked, a look of confusion crossing his face as his hand dropped from her.

She so badly wanted to command him to off himself. She stepped around him instead.

His arm viced her, and she whirled, lifting the sharp end of the heel in her hand as she brought it down hard on his shoulder, earning a snarl.

“Go away!” She was really heaving now, mustering the most energy she’d used in awhile.

It worked well enough as the Alpha quickly retreated from her sight in the direction she’d come.

She stood there a minute, eyes closed as she composed herself.

*Tsk.*

She lifted the bloody heel from the floor, bending down to clean the evidence it’d smeared on the marble with the hem of her dress.

She glanced down the hall in both directions.

Breathing deep told her the scent of her heat was lighter–maybe thanks to the amount of energy she’d consumed–but was it light enough to be around others?

She worried her lip.

Laura really needed to speak with Queen Lana–or any high royal at this point–so she continued down the hall, clutching her shoes to obscure the bloody heel as she approached a large ornate door–not as grand as the library, but still regal–with two very large– male attendants stationed on either side.

“State your business.” His voice wasn’t as gruff as the words would imply.

“Hi, I’m Laura–Laura of Grayson, and I have urgent business with Queen Lana.”

“I’m sorry, the queen has not returned yet from a trip she had to make outside the castle.” He checked a large clock opposite to the doors of the royals’ wing. “She should be back anytime now, but I’ll have to ask you to return later tonight, or tomorrow.”

She felt defeated, anxiety gnawing at her guts to have to hold important information for later.

“Alright, thank you.” The attendant nodded.

She clicked her tongue, deciding to go back to her room the opposite way she came, making a full loop of the castle–lest she run into Derek again.

The hallway seemed to grow more narrow, the longer she walked. She wasn’t unaware of the pants she was making either. The smell of everything was starting to bother her, down to the old paint on the walls.

*Eurgh.*

Laura staggered to a halt.

She was closer to the front of the castle than the royals’ wing, but the hallway remained deserted and free of bodies.

So where was this smell of blood coming from?

She gave in to her wolf’s senses, her sight sharpened against the details on the intricate murals and art around her–pulling new colors and blends into view, as her nostrils flared on a deep inhale.

She cocked her head.

The smell was coming a little ways to the left of the main road.. and it wasn’t a small amount.

Her gaze turned to a large paned window–where the scent of fresh blood flowed freely from its cracks.

She swayed on her feet.

She wasn’t really in any condition to help anyone else. As it stood she was barely keeping it together with her appearance and pheromones...

But *fuck*, it must be great to not have a conscience.

She bolted in the direction of the window, praying it would be more forgiving than it looked.

She held her breath.

Glass shattered around her as a rush of fire contorted her body.

Laura landed on two feet, sprinting faster than the average shifter for the treeline. She hoped the darkness was enough cover as she shifted close to entering the treeline, falling into a flurry of gallop on four padded paws. The additional darkness of the canopy silhouetted her purple form, but she could see well enough to count the individual blades of grass in the dark.

Laura followed the scent of blood, easily navigating into the tree line just off the main road as she expected.

She’d noticed headlights a little ways down, but if there was anyone over there, she would’ve smelled them–heard them.

She definitely heard something not too far off.

Her tail whipped in the direction of sound.

She was about half a mile off the road as she leaped over fallen trees and tucked under heavy brush, nearing the source.

She nearly stepped into the tiny opening, free of the heavier brush that snagged her fur, when she saw them.

One lay limp in human form, body twisted and bloody–*a proper beating*–while two struggled to drag a semi-conscious body towards the road.

In their struggle to hoist the small form between them, the head of the middle body rolled to face her.

They were taking the queen.