Eleven Nights to Ruin Me

Her feet carried her down the corridor in a blind panic, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She didn’t stop until she was inside her room, slamming the door behind her and twisting the lock with shaking hands.

The moment she was safely in, her legs gave out.

She crumpled against the door, sliding down until she hit the floor. Her whole body trembled as sobs tore from her throat—ugly, violent sounds she couldn’t control.

She’d been so close. So close to—

She couldn’t even finish the thought.

A knock sounded at the door almost immediately, making her flinch.

"Sabrina?" Lady Gina’s voice came from the other side, sharp with concern. "Sabrina, open the door."

Nina pressed her hands over her mouth, trying to muffle the sounds of her crying. She couldn’t face anyone right now. Couldn’t pretend to be fine.

"Sabrina, I know you’re in there. Let me in."

She didn’t answer. After a long moment, she heard Gina’s footsteps retreat down the hallway.

Nina let her head fall back against the door. Her chest ached. Her throat burned. But she couldn’t stop the tears. She’d survived another night, but for how long?

...

The pounding on her door pulled Nina from the edge of sleep.

"Sabrina, open this door right now."

Lady Gina called as she pounded on the door.

Nina blinked groggily, her body stiff and aching. At some point during the night, she must have fallen asleep against the door. Pale morning light filtered through the curtains.

It was morning already.

"If you don’t open this door in the next ten seconds, I’m breaking it down."

Nina’s heart lurched. She pushed herself upright, wincing as her back protested. Her muscles screamed from hours spent in the same position.

With trembling hands, she unlocked the door and pulled it open.

Lady Gina stood in the hallway, flanked by three maids carrying armfuls of fabric and boxes. Her sharp eyes swept over Nina, taking in the tear-stained face, the wrinkled dress, the way she swayed slightly on her feet.

"Thank the gods you’re alive," Gina said, though her tone suggested she was more relieved than surprised. She brushed past Nina into the room, gesturing for the maids to follow. "We don’t have much time."

Nina blinked at her, her mind still foggy. "Time for what?"

Gina turned to face her, her expression unreadable. "The Alpha is leaving for the funeral of Alpha Boldron. You’re going with him."

Nina’s eyes widened, the rest of the sleep clearing from them;

″What?!″

Two hours later, Nina stood in the courtyard, a heavy shawl wrapped around her shoulders. The morning air was crisp and cold, winter was coming.

Two carriages waited in front of the estate.

The first was large and ornate, pulled by two massive black horses that stamped impatiently at the ground, their breath misting in the early morning chill. The Vermont crest—a snarling wolf beneath a crescent moon—was emblazoned on the door in gold. The second carriage was smaller, simpler, and stood behind the larger one.

A dozen lycans stood at attention around the carriages, their expressions stoic, hands resting on the hilts of their weapons.

Nina’s stomach churned as she pulled in a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

So much for telling him she’d never appear in front of him again.

A young maid appeared at her side, holding Nina’s small luggage. The girl looked barely older than eighteen, with wide brown eyes and dark hair pulled into a neat braid. Lady Gina had mentioned this morning that she’d be her personal maid.

Nina glanced at her, grateful for the distraction. "What’s your name?"

The girl blinked, clearly surprised to be spoken to directly. "Moreen, my lady."

"Moreen," Nina repeated, "That’s a beautiful name."

Moreen’s cheeks flushed pink. "Thank you, my lady."

Nina needed to keep talking—anything to keep her mind from thinking about the two days she’d be spending with the Alpha. "Did you serve the other Lunas? Before me?"

Moreen shook her head, "No, my lady. The personal maids for the Lunas were always sent away after their... deaths."

Nina’s smile faltered. Her fingers tightened around the edge of her shawl, knuckles going white. For a brief moment, she’d managed to forget she was going to die soon. Her throat constricted, but she forced herself to breathe through it.

The lycans suddenly straightened like soldiers called to attention, their eyes snapping toward the estate entrance.

"Alpha," they chorused.

Nina’s entire body went rigid.

She turned slowly, her heart climbing into her throat.

Rodrigo emerged from the estate like a storm given human form. He was dressed in dark traveling clothes—a fitted black coat that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, dark trousers, and boots that looked battle-worn. Somehow, the simplicity made him look even more dangerous.

His golden eyes swept over the lycans in one sharp glance, cataloging everything.

Another wolf about the Alpha’s age followed behind him—tall, with silver colored hair mixed with black, his expression as rigid as his Alpha’s.

Nina instinctively pulled her shawl tighter, as if the fabric could shield her from Rodrigo’s gaze.

But it was useless.

The moment he reached the carriages, his eyes found her.