Sneaking into the king’s palace was never going to be easy. But years of planning and waiting for the opportune moment made slipping into the banquet hall piss easy. Amira walked inside, her attire like the other guards, she was a little on the smaller side, but nobody took notice. The guests were abuzz with the ongoing ball. Women were dressed to impress, all hoping to attract a suitor or the rarity of finding a mate. They were all like peacocks preening themselves with fans, flaunting their busts in their dresses and proving their worth for a potential partner by dancing. Amira rolled her eyes and continued to walk at the edges of the grand banquet hall. She’d missed the Alpha King’s entrance by a few minutes. Yet, she remained calm because she knew his routine for such events. Her cousin, Zayyan, observed the king from afar for weeks before the pieces of their plan finally came together. And here she was. Set to kill the tyrannical Alpha King, Rhys Quintrell. Amira followed h

~ Amira ~ Amidst the excruciating pain coursing through her body, the sounds of the guards charging towards the bed chambers signified her time was up. Amira glared at the king’s motionless form. He was not dead. There was only enough aconite in his system to render him unconscious for a few days at most. She could finish him off right then and there, even with the injuries she sustained and the pain of the rejected mate bond her wolf was whining about, but there was no guarantee she would make it out alive. This was mostly for the good of the kingdom, but she wasn’t selfless or a martyr. This was also an act of vengeance. There would be another time and place. Hopefully. Amira sprinted towards the king’s walk-in wardrobe and the secret passageway, letting her bones break, and her body shift as she did so. Overwhelmed by the intense pain, a wave of nausea washed over her, threatening to plunge her into unconsciousness. Her fur sunk back inside her pours as she returned to her

~ Rhys ~ “Rhys, that was your chance-” “Don’t,” Rhys warned his friend. The Alpha did not need reminding of what he’d lost from rejecting the she-wolf. But he would rather tolerate that than accept someone so unworthy. A rogue! What was the Goddess thinking? They were enemies. Surely, the deity knew they'd be at each other's throats. Literally. Rhys tenderly grazed his throat, the very spot where Amira had plunged her blade. He pondered how she fared following his retaliation, his claws sinking into her flesh. He hoped her escape was a fucking struggle. His eyes gleamed in fury. Nobody escaped the king's wrath. Yet he allowed her to slip out. It was no skill of hers. He refused to admit to it. Baltir sighed, dragging his hand over his face and leaving it there. “The Moon Goddess will not be pleased-” “Fuck her,” Rhys growled his blasphemy. “What has she done for me and my family?” “You shouldn’t-” “Enough,” Rhys cut off his friend again. “Send in Eden.” His balls were still a

~ Rhys ~ Sighing, Rhys rolled onto his side. His breathing came easily, devoid of pain in his lungs, and his throat felt a little uncomfortable, but the sharp stinging sensation had vanished. He felt… refreshed. Was the aconite out of his system so quickly? It had been some time since he was last poisoned, but he never recovered this fast. Unless he slept for longer? Rhys was about to drift off to sleep once more, satisfied his recovery was quicker than he anticipated, until he noticed the consciousness of another being. It did not feel like his feral, ferocious wolf, Demon. His eyes snapped open, concerned with this strange feeling. He blinked as the musty, dark room came into focus. A frown formed on his face as a sense of disorientation washed over him. The bed beneath him lacked any trace of luxury or comfort, and the presence of two meagre pillows and a thin blanket startled him, revealing that this was most certainly not his familiar opulent abode. Rhys remained prone, care

~ Rhys ~ Xenos? Rhys recognised the name, but he didn’t seem quite up to figuring it out yet, what with being a fricken woman! He growled his annoyance, the sound coming out not as ferocious as he meant. “I know he’s a dick, but we just have to get through it,” Zayyan said before turning away. Rhys nodded and started to follow. “Woah, woah. What do you think you’re doing?” Zayyan looked at him like he was crazy. “Your charms aren’t going to get you out of this one. Put some bloody clothes on.” He gestured at Rhys' attire. “I’ll wait outside.” Rhys glanced at his clothing, still feeling overly surreal that he had breasts and pussy. Zayyan was right, though. This was no way for a lady to leave a room. He scoffed, scanning the room for a wardrobe of some sort. Muttering to himself, Rhys remarked, "Amira's not really a refined lady..." Though he hadn’t seen her since she was four, he was pretty certain her etiquette lessons were far from satisfactory. “Where are her clothes!?” He