His Rejected Omega, His Fated White Wolf

lyn

el as a palpable hostility in the air around me, did not cease. They grew darker. Rosalind's followers were spreading poison, claiming m

aw the sacred eastern graveyard. Two headstones of white marble-my parents' graves-lay in shards, an

clarifying rage that seemed to sharpen the very air I breathed. I had spent

. I opened it to find Arthur, the Omega boy from the tave

ulling him inside. "W

y Lady," he whispered, his head bowed. "Lady Rosalind's

dence I had lacked, a living

and pulled out a smooth, glowing b

, My Lady," Arthur said softly. "I rec

mers, their laughter a coarse, ugly sound as they poured the black blood. But in the background, half-hidden by the shadows of a yew tree, stoo

palms so hard they broke the skin. Rosalind had trespa

I whispered to Arthur. "And

the door, ready to march out, but stopped. The inn's maid was sw

ed to another servant. "The Al

on the wooden stairs. He approached me

rowled. "This room requires rep

the castle, from Rosalind. I could feel the t

sing in on me. I sank to the floor, my back against the door, and finally allowed th

raw. But then, I felt a tiny,

p

the power to punish the desecration of sacred graves. But the witch in the memory stone-

my head held high. I rented a fast carriage and ordere

d not dare impede me. I walked up the grand spiral staircase, my boots clicking sharply against the

hrew the doors open

desk, in the Alpha's heavy leather chair, was Rosalind. She

meant only for

my title, made something inside me snap tau

s memory stone, I had the