The Alpha's Ever After - (Werewolf Romance) (Ilie and Soleil Book 2) (3 page)

Fleur pretended to gasp. “Oh my! Is that our kind, perfect sister actually being---” A pause. “
Sarcastic
?”

Aurora nodded seriously. “Such an abominable thing.”

Soleil glared at the two. “Why are you ganging up on me?”

“Because you’re being unreasonable,” Aurora answered readily. “You know what I mean. That night was obviously a setup, and it was meant to kill us. So yes, that makes it very, very personal.” She paused---

And at that moment, a twig cracked in the not-so-far distance.

Their plan to lure out their target had worked, as expected, and the Orpheline sisters smiled.

“They always give themselves away like that, don’t they?” Aurora remarked.

Fleur’s shoulders moved in a dainty shrug. “What can you expect from idiots?”

“Who are you calling idiots?” A man stepped out from the darkness. Small and thin, he had an unshaven look about him and possessed the most unhandsome posture, with his stooped shoulders and bow-legged walk.

“You, I’m afraid,” Soleil murmured apologetically. The trail had not gone cold, but they had pretended otherwise because the location they had chosen was perfect for their needs, allowing them a fair chance of survival even if they were outnumbered.

And so they had deliberately dawdled, pretending to be troubled, when all they wanted was to lure their opponent out – right where they wanted the traitor to be.

Soleil sang out, “Come out, come out, wherever you imps are.”

As she spoke, said imps crawled out of their hiding places. There were ten of them, horrible, vicious-looking creatures that made up the lowest ranks of Hell, but even so they were demons, not at all easy to kill, and would obey only certain humans---

Like those who made bargains with the devil
, Soleil thought sadly,
and believed they could get away with it.

Stepping forward, she told the traitor gently, “We know your name is Wilbur and that you worked as a runner for the Enforcers. We know that you haven’t shown up for work since your attempt to have us killed. If you tell us the truth about what made you do this and who’s ordered you---”

“Shut up,” the man snarled. “You talk too much.” He gestured to the imps, growling, “Kill them!”

No second order was needed, the imps charging towards Soleil and her sisters, mindless in their need to wreak havoc.

Letting her blade fly, Aurora smiled humorlessly as it found its target. But her smile faded when she saw the traitor getting away. “Go after him, Soleil---”

“We can handle this.” As if to prove her point, Fleur slashed the throat of an imp that had been able to avoid her arrows and come near her.

Despite her insides clenching because it didn’t feel right to separate – she and her sisters had always fought together – Soleil spun around and tore after Wilbur.

Creeping vines began to slither in the ground, forcing her to jump and dance around them, knowing that if she allowed herself to be caught, it would never let her go. It hampered her progress, but not as much as it was slowing Wilbur down, because he was clearly unused to any physical test.

Even so, he clearly wasn’t in the mood to quit, forcing himself to get back up even as he cursed every time a vine managed to slash the cloth and skin on the back of his legs.

When he looked at her over his shoulder, Soleil saw his face whiten just before he turned and made an unexpected twist, straight into the mist shrouding the deeper region of the woods.

Her heart lurched.

Soleil hadn’t survived this long by living fearlessly. No, what enabled her to win every battle was to treat each fight as the last, and to never ever think her enemy was weaker.

Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.

And right now, the worst wasn’t Wilbur getting away.

The worst was to piss off the wraiths that lived in this forest and make them think she was their enemy.

“Don’t be a fool,” Soleil cried out when she saw Wilbur move closer and closer towards the eerie-looking mist. “You know there’s a possibility you won’t be able to come back---”

Wilbur faced her, demanding bitterly, “And what do you propose otherwise? That I go back and await justice?” He shook his head wildly. “You don’t know what it means to be like me! Living in the fringes, always having to kiss people’s arses! Everyone thinks you’re all bloody heroes, the great defenders of the city, when you’re just like everyone else,” he spat. “You’re no different from the monsters beyond these woods. You’re worse, the way you treat those you think are too weak, too cowardly---” He reached out for something behind him.

Soleil stiffened. Whatever he was about to pull out, she had a feeling it wasn’t good.

And when she saw what it was in Wilbur’s hand, she stiffened even more.

Unfortunately, her guess had been spot on.

This wasn’t good…at all.

He carried a gun, a modern contraption that was forbidden in Asphodel and the entire kingdom for that matter.

And the wraiths of the woods knew this, too.

She shook her head slowly. “Don’t do that.”

“Afraid?” Wilbur’s eyes had a crazed look to them. “Good.” He licked his lips, as if savoring the fear they both knew she was feeling. “I like seeing people like you sweat.”

When he raised the gun and pointed it at her, Soleil did start to sweat, not because she was afraid of him, but of the ghosts that were starting to stir around them. She could feel it in the cold bite of the wind that began to whip their skins, the way the leaves practically danced on the ground, and oh, when the mist behind Wilbur started to creep closer to him---

Was he so lost in his anger that he couldn’t feel they were being haunted this very second?

She said between tightly clenched teeth, “Don’t. Do. It.”

He cocked the gun.

Soleil paled. “You’re going to kill both of us if you do that.”

Wilbur’s maniacal laughter made Soleil back away.

“How much of a bloody idiot do you think I am? Is this gun pointed at me?”

Hopeless,
she thought, and backed up another step.

“You’re the one who’s going to die.
Bitch
.” He started to pull the trigger.

She spun around and ran.

Behind her, a terrifying sound pierced the night, but it wasn’t the sound of the gun going off. It was Wilbur, screaming for his life, but she didn’t look back, didn’t even think of saving him.

There was no point.

Once the wraiths wanted you dead, you were.

She ran as fast as she could, but she could still feel the mist coming at her heels, threatening to overtake her. When its icy, invisible fingers brushed against her back, she knew it was inevitable, but still she ran, her breath lodged in her throat---

Ice encased her.

She screamed, instinctively covering her face to ward off any attack, but nothing happened, and the sound of her scream also remained trapped inside of her. It was as if everything was commanded by the wraiths, even the very way her body functioned.

Soleil screamed and screamed, but still not a sound went past her lips.

Everything was so very silent.

Too, too silent.

Slowly, she lowered her hands, and Soleil gulped when she saw how much the world had changed. Everything felt darker, more oppressive, and the silence made it worse. The trees glaring down at her seemed endlessly tall, their claw-like branches innumerable as they reached for her---

Soleil pinched herself hard.

No, this wasn’t real.

But even so, she couldn’t stop from moving instinctively, crawling away from the branches that kept coming towards her.

A feeling of abandonment struck her just as she heard a baby’s cry piercing the air.

Another infant, thrown away by a parent because it was imperfect---

Her throat tightened---

No.

Soleil’s mind desperately clung to reality.

This wasn’t happening.

This wasn’t real.

This was an illusion.

But even so, long-buried feelings of abandonment kept flowing out of her, turning into ropes of despair that wrapped itself around her neck, tightening, choking her---

Soleil began to panic. Illusion or not, this felt too real. She was going to die---

Snap out of it!

The voice came out of nowhere, furious, but underlying it was concern and fear – for her.

Her heart leapt in recognition.

It was the Marquis of Lunare.

The wolf whose heart she was fated to keep.

“I-Ilie?”

Who else?

She searched her surroundings for any sign of his presence, but all she could see was more and more branches that were just waiting to break her bones and tear her apart.

“I c-can’t see you,” Soleil choked out. “I can’t breathe, I’m feeling…”

And then she realized what this was.

It was not an illusion.

It was real.

It was her curse…killing her.

“Ilie,” she screamed. She was going to die. She really was going to die.

You know this isn’t real---

“You don’t understand,” Soleil sobbed. More shameful sobs tried to rush out of her throat, but she did her best to swallow them back down. “I know w-what I’m seeing isn’t real, but what I’m feeling is. I’m going to die---”
Because she was cursed. He didn’t know it, and that’s why he didn’t believe her.

“Ilie, help!”

Whatever you think you’re feeling, I can make it stop. But you won’t like the way I do it.

“Anything is fine---”
Because she could already feel herself dying.

Then you need to think of me fucking you.

Soleil froze.

A moment later, she shrieked, “Are you insane? How can you make jokes like that? Don’t you see this is---”

Oh.

This wasn’t for real.

It couldn’t be.

Ilie Marcovici was a lot of things.

Playboy, killer, deceiver---

Half-wolf, half-demon---

Arrogant aristocrat hell-bent on seducing her---

He was all of those things and more, but he was also a soldier like her, and people like them
never
made a joke at times like this.

Soleil closed her eyes.

This. Is. Not. Real.

When she opened them again, the world was back to normal. The Woods of the Wraiths was still creepy, but the mist was gone and replaced instead by the tall and impressive form of the Marquis of Lunare. His white blond hair was combed away from his face, and his silver eyes gleamed with amusement as he stared down at her. In his cobalt blue coat and tight-fitting breeches, he cut quite the dashing figure.

He looked like he was on his way to a ball
, Soleil thought, only he had been forced into making an unnecessary detour to save a damsel in distress.

And of course, said stupidly helpless damsel had to be her.

Soleil’s lips pursed. She hated, hated, absolutely hated when she had to ask for this man’s help. She had been fighting since she was fifteen, so why was it all of a sudden she was unable to survive without being rescued?

CHAPTER TWO

Ilie Marcovici didn’t mind waiting for Soleil’s mental grumbling to finish. It was vastly entertaining, especially since his heartkeeper had once again forgotten the bond between them, which allowed him to listen in on her thoughts. When she looked up, as if suspicious of why he was content to merely stand there, he only smiled and instead offered one gloved hand to her, murmuring, “May I?”

Properly distracted, Soleil was now wondering whether she should accept or reject the marquis’ help. She could stand on her own, after all. But in the end, years of etiquette were too much ingrained in her, and Soleil reluctantly accepted the marquis’ hand.

Ilie repressed his smile as he took hold of her small, soft hand in his, knowing exactly how Soleil was feeling.

As he drew her up, she asked urgently, “My sisters?”

“They’re fine. The battle was more than half over by the time I arrived, and I left the wolves to help them before coming after you.” He looked down at her with a frown. “And you? Are you hurt anywhere, ma lisse?” The wraiths had infinite means to inflict harm, and sometimes such wounds weren’t the type to immediately manifest.

“I’m fine. Thank you for your concern.” The words were automatic, falling gracefully from her lips, but the way she yanked her hand from his hold was not. His presence alone made her feel all tingly, but his touch was worse, making her feel the need to---

She would not think about that,
Soleil decided prudishly. Looking up, she told the marquis severely, “I have told you before, have I not? I am
not
your lily.” As far as Soleil was concerned, being any man’s lily was a ludicrous idea, considering how she killed for a living.

But all the marquis said was, “Mm.” He was frowning, his gaze running over her form. “You are certain you’re unhurt?”

When he started checking her for injuries, Soleil opened and closed her mouth, eventually deciding against telling him off. She knew, from experience, that alpha otherworlders – who weren’t too demonic, that was - were all the same, with the way they considered themselves personally responsible of their heartkeepers’ safety.

But then the marquis’ hands brushed her breasts---

Face flaming even as her nipples pouted into life, she slapped Ilie’s hands away. “W-what do you think you’re doing?” She wished she could’ve sounded angrier, but even to her ears her voice sounded anything but, with its breathless and husky tone. Curse him and his wandering hands, and curse her body for being so blasted sensitive!

“I told you, milady. I’m merely checking for injuries.” But the wicked gleam in the marquis’ silver eyes belied his words, and when his gaze trailed down suggestively, focusing on her swelling and aching breasts, Soleil could feel her body stirring even more, shamelessly begging for his touch.

She quickly turned her back on him, hissing, “Will you please behave?”

“I will, if you tell me you are truly fine.” Stepping in front of her once again, he tipped her chin up, his gaze gently probing as he murmured, “I did not think it was possible you would fall for such a trap. You must have known that illusions are one of the common ways for these woods to kill its prey.”