Graham tossed and turned in his sleep, his skin feeling like it was being peeled from him. He yowled at the stinging sensation spreading over his forehead which caused him to shoot up rocket-style in his bed. This only happened when intruders crossed the boundary.

  When he was born, his countrymen believed the Moon Goddess blessed him with the gift to form a union with the boundary. For that, he became much like the Goddess herself, but other. He had a wrongness; a thirst for blood, a hunger for corruption. He wasn’t sure if it would consume him, or he, it.

  He growled low. “I thought I told Caleb to make sure there were no more crossings.” Now his head won’t stop throbbing because of it. He would be expecting Caleb’s report in a week’s time. What could possibly be the reason why he hadn’t tightened the security protocols like he had ordered him?

  You are protected, my son. You are loved by all who look upon your face. The voice sounded like his mother’s, but it was wrong, wrong—

  “Wrong!” He shouted to the ceiling of his chambers, twisting around in his bed. The voice would find him and command him. Tell him to do this and not forget that.

  Now that he was in pain, it sent words of comfort through his mind. It had control over his heart and chose how it wanted to manipulate him.

  This entity, this Goddess reveled over this while she stripped away whoever he was meant to be, corroding him down with rage.

  His Grand Alphas who’d hoped he’d become like his father, now feared him like they had his father. They cowered whenever summoned and kept quiet in his presence unless commanded to speak. He guessed he’d killed enough of them.

  More pangs pulsated through his body, wrenching a howl from his lips. He stood, clawing his wallpaper as he lumbered in the direction of the bathroom, his pained body collapsing as he reached for the golden door-handle. He lost strength in his legs.

  “Maia, you slack. How many did you let slip past your notice.” If only he had assigned Caleb to the guardian post, he wouldn’t be having this problem. However, that was another decision that wasn’t his to make.

  The Moon Goddess decided who would become her next guardian. He had assigned Caleb to regulate the unruly werewolves who’d escaped to the human realm for two reasons. One, he trusted him. Two, Graham knew that Caleb would be a substitute ruler for the wolves there. Since childhood, he’d seen how well the wolf had reinforced the king’s authority whether he had been present or not.

  As much as responsibility he put on Caleb, he suffered from just as much of not more. The Alpha Predator was killing more and more Grand Alphas which did nothing more than bring those worthless beings to his castle, begging for his interference. There was also Caleb’s latest visit that he had been considering.

  His mate, that forsaken woman had expressed interest in this world since she was a child and he had hoped that interest would not lead her to him, except Caleb warned him that it did. With all these things pressing down on him, his headache worsened. He really couldn’t get a moment’s rest.

  What a good boy you have become. How strong and brave is my son. The voice, a mock version of his mother’s, returned to his mind and he wished he had something to throw.

  “What do you want, you blasted Goddess?!” His bellowing question was followed by rushing footsteps from all over the sleeping palace, making him groan. He didn’t want company. He had wanted to sleep, but his bond to the Goddess woke him. She warned him of the trespassers by giving him body aches. He still hadn’t figured out what he was meant to do about it. He was a king, not her guardian, not her toy to play with as she pleases yet still, she does.

  Tentative knocking resounded in his silent bedchamber. Through the throbbing aches, he got up from the floor and marched toward it, ripping the door open. He bared his teeth at his unwanted guest. It was bad enough to have a voice in his head that came in and out whenever it wanted and now he had to deal with his own people disturbing his quiet.

  “What?!” he asked the quivering butler, his Beta status the only thing keeping him alive. His mother had taught him better than to bully the weak.

  “My king, this Beta has brought your Majesty tea to aid your night terrors. If your Majesty would remember, I am Philip. The one who accompanies you on nights like this.”

  The king gave the older wolf a once-over. His ash brown hair was balding in the middle, his greying sideburns indistinguishable from the connecting mustache and beard were the only hair on his face that remained. The steadying, compassionate gaze the man offered him reminded Graham of the way his people had once looked at him when he was a pup. How genuine those looks appeared in his adolescence. His clothing was a plain butler’s outfit; a long sleeved white collar button-up, black wrinkle-free vest and matching trousers. His tattered brown court shoes being the only thing tugging at the monarch’s memory. King Grahampulled his cream-coloured silk robe closed and walked back into his chamber taking a seat on his bed.

  “Remind me what you do again, Philip.”

  “Yes, of course, your Majesty.” The tiny man walked to the vinyl player in the far side of the chamber with ample fluidity, after a brief look at his collection, he gave an “ah-ha!” and retrieved the record he sought and put it on, placing the needle with ease. The soothing instrumental chimes of the piano encompassed the space and in a moment or two, his pain went away enough for the king to melt into his mattress.

  “Tonight, his Majesty shall travel into your memory for the time when he felt at home. A time when he wanted to learn more about the world and his identity. You can take your time retrieving the memory, my liege.” Philip’s voice was patient and spoken in time with the calming melodies already working its magic on the king.

  Stolen story; please report.

  “I don’t think I have any such memories, good Philip.” He said, his voice slightly grumpy.

  “You do. Your Majesty must. There was a time before you were king. A time when you were just a pup and filled with vigour. I remember hearing the stories of the brave, young Eli taking so well to his mother’s teachings. The queen was such a gracious creature. Nothing like your father…she would keep you close to her.”

  At the mention of his mother and childhood name, his mood soured. “Was I not a hybrid freak in the eyes of my pack? The hybrid who knew nothing of customs nor had anything to say of value. My father’s men were quick to strike my every opinion down and call me submissive, too partial to Betas. There was nothing Alpha about me, I didn’t belong.”

  “No, my king.” There was something about the way he said ‘King’ that pulled his lost memories to the forefront of his mind even more. He thought of his mother, tried to recall her voice. How she loved to call him her prince. The prince, sent by the gods to save her from his father, to save everyone from that tyrant’s reign. Mom, how I miss you.

  I am here, my prin—

  “There were plenty of us who remembered your words and held them in our hearts. You freed us from our bonds and fought our oppressors. You were—are our champion. Queen Lilith would be proud.”

  Would she? He still remembered the disappointed look on her face when he’d failed at something. He just couldn’t remember what. Ah, yes, there was that one time when his mother never let him bother her during certain hours of the day. She called it her prayer time.

  That day, at the age of ten, Elias had accidentally interrupted her concentration. He expected her to scold him, instead she beckoned him closer and showed him what she had been doing. There were cards in her hands. She had placed a dark purple satin blanket on the floor which she sat upon, facing the east. She'd surmised it was an appropriate position for any reading.

  Part of her wanted to test if he was born with any faerie gifts. He would sneak around her when she prayed aloud so he was well aware of this. Sometimes she’d will the gods who were hidden to show themselves.

  When he was older, she told him that she silently hoped that inviting him into her divination would conjure something inside him. Maybe the gods would be merciful for once and grant her son their protection.

  Each day he’d grown older without showing signs of faerie gifts, she had become convinced the gods only gave her their grace during prayer sessions so she obsessed over them for a time.

  Those times, she would disappear on him or send him with his uncle for some lesson lacking in substance. He could admit, it had kept him distracted.

  She returned her halcyon amber gaze to him; he was smiling from ear-to-ear and slightly bouncing on the balls of his feet; she reached her hand out to smooth his raven locks but withdrew it, running it through her tresses instead.

  “Well, love, aren't you a curious one? Come closer, my dear. It's time for you to learn how to read fate.” She gave him a lengthy lesson on the cards and their meaning, demonstrating how to shuffle them—in what ways would make the gods pleased with him, and in what ways it would make them upset. The cards were her way of communicating with them, and it fascinated young Elias.

  She told him stories of how sometimes her dreams revealed the future, or the past. She lightly teased him for his astonished reactions and excited exclamations as she told him her connection to the gods was fueled through her cards or her bag of bones.

  Puffing out her chest, she said, “I can use anything made for divination to read the fates of others and myself. I have no limitations to the information I receive. My only limitation is time. The door to my psychic powers would be closed forever if I didn’t have the dreams or visions to guide me.”

  She shook her head at some stray thought.

  “Now, my prince, you try.”

  She bit her lip, watching in anticipation as he scooted closer to the cards. He took a moment to stare, admiring them. They were more than just pieces of thin cardboard. They were the answers to all that he might face in life, or give insight into a past that she was familiar with, a past she witnessed as he grew from a baby to a young boy.

  Unaware of his mother's growing impatience, he grabbed the cards from the table. He shuffled the large stack that could barely fit in his smaller hands around. As hard as he could he tried to imitate what he had just been taught, being careful with his method.

  His eyes darted to his mother when he'd finished, unsure of what came next or if he'd done something wrong. She almost lunged toward the cards. After she had them in her palms, she took a breath to regain her composure. She gently flipped over the first three cards, lying them next to one another. She ran her eyes over them in haste. Her expression became drained of emotion. She looked disappointed. Elias inwardly berated himself. He knew he'd done it wrong. He'd been trying to follow his mother's movements exactly, but it was hard and he had no skills at shuffling. It seemed simple, but he couldn’t say with confidence he'd done it as elegant and deft as his mother had. She closed her eyes. After some time, they opened to look into his own.

  She gave him a small smile.

  “My son, the gods have blessed you with a mate and she is very special.”

  It was the first opinion of his mother’s he grew to despise. Mates, they didn’t exist.

  His lovely mother, a queen by right. When she was around, the burden of the crown evaporated from his mind. He wasn’t a hybrid prince with a weak countenance nor a prince who should never have been born. As his father had called him, a vile creature who coveted a throne that would never be his until he learned to put his foot on a Beta’s neck, until he learned to kill one. As much as he detested his father, he clung stronger to his mother.

  Pulling his mind from the past and its unending rule over him, he stared up at the ceiling. The soft D sharp trickled in, breaking him from his memory, soothing his agitated nerves. Unbeknownst to him, he began to nod along to the tune.

  “There be nothing against the king with my saying, you have ruled the kingdom much as it has never been seen before. This Beta doesn’t intend to pry unnecessarily but what does it feel like to be bonded with our Goddess? Is it an honour?”

  “I’ve grown accustomed to the sound of a woman’s tears; I awaken to it and am lulled to sleep by it. There is always a woman who screams in horror when it rains. She’s in pain. She’s alone. She’s scared. I’m scared for her. Her cries have a razor edge. Her pain feels too real. It feels like mine. Even worse than the torment I’ve survived. She is haunted and so she haunts me. Most nights, her screams chase me to hell as her soul shatters, over and over, her screams reaching me in the form of storms inside the nightmare the thought of her sends. Other nights it’s as if she belongs within broken memories, whether they are my own or hers, I wouldn’t know.” Speaking of her, brings the dreams into his mind. He can see her physique in his mind’s eye. Her eyes, the colour of lapis. With tawny curls that fell gracefully to her hips, she had a statuesque beauty. An illusion; her beauty was unreal. She was a goddess and just as enchanting as you would expect. He remembered being confused and curious, thinking, Who could she be? Who do I see when the lightning strikes? Whose voice do I hear in each of its screeching clashes as it meets the moist ground?