He couldn’t pretend anymore. This pitiful pretense of being a loyal packmember, this half-formed lie of a life, it was driving Skrillex slowly insane. The masked monster had thought that joining another kingdom would protect him from the sins of his past—and the demons haunting his present—but he’s slipped back into the same pointless mire of self-loathing nonetheless. There were many places to hide in Andere Seite; one could go moons without ever seeing one’s pack. After so long, why stay? They did not need him. He certainly didn’t need them—especially when the rogue felt only a few heartbeats away from ending his own life anyway. Such a waste, his thoughts sighed, encroaching on his mind the way shadows stretch across the horizon. Such a horrible, heartbreaking waste of air.

Numbly, the white knight made his way down the river, eyes shifting every so often to watch the blinding play of sunlight shattering on the water. The smell of other wolves lingered here and there, lost lonely souls starving for affection or just the empty touch of a stranger. Each individual scent crawled down Skrillex’s throat and he fought not to gag. As low as the dragon had fallen, he sincerely hoped he would never find himself desperate enough to seek company along these banks. That path, he knew, ended in blood. Blood and shame. Blood and shame and a lifetime of wishing his family had managed to kill him that day—

A soft, lovely lullaby wove itself ribbon-like through the sleepy air, drawing Skrill’s gaze toward a more secluded area of the forest. His heartbeat slammed into overdrive. The muscles in his jaws clenched painfully, saliva slaking his tongue as his irises contracted to form pinpoints of hunger. Oh, gods. When was the last time he had heard a female’s alluring voice? The ivory warrior had hoped celibacy would erode his hunger, not sharpen it! Growling deeply at the back of his throat, Skrillex tried in vain to return his path to the river . . .

But he padded toward the song anyway. His heart was hammering so loudly it nearly drowned the woman’s gleaming voice, smothering it under harsh thunder. He could smell her now, a mouthwatering perfume laced with—

No.

No.

Skrillex stepped into the clearing as if bewitched, venom-colored eyes locked with icy horror at the limp mangled body splayed between the she-wolf’s perfect paws. A child. The midnight-painted queen was devouring a child right before his eyes. “Who . . . ?” the demon rasped, all thought obliterated from his brain.