Rabid (Kingdom of Wolves #6) - Ivy Asher Page 0,24

his face, at the way his gaze burns into the marks on my chest. When I feel a finger press against my forehead, my eyes shoot back to the Weaver as he holds his touch there, his throat working with a nearly silent wolfish rumble.

The blood is cold everywhere at first, but it seems that with each added stroke and swirl of the Weaver’s design, the symbols begin to warm. By the time he draws another line down my throat, I feel like I’m glowing. Panic slams through me at the sensation. I feel like a beacon, and in my vulnerable state, it terrifies me.

I want nothing more than to turn off the light I sense radiating out of me. It’s like my life is being ripped away, and with it goes my hope and the few shreds of happiness I’m desperately trying to hold on to. At the same time, I can’t fight the curiosity coursing through me. I can’t ignore the exhilaration I feel. I’ve waited so long for this. Celebrated and anticipated it, wished for it to be my turn every time I watched a Flux. I’ve been looking forward to it my whole life, and now it’s here.

But this isn’t how it was supposed to be.

It wasn’t supposed to ruin me. I wish my mom were here. I wish I could welcome this spirit the way my animal deserves, and not hate her for what her presence will do to me. Receiving my wolf spirit is supposed to make me complete, but because of it, I’m going to be less. I’m going to be treated no better than a whipped dog, bred and dominated for Burke’s pleasure.

I flinch at a clawed tap on my arm just as my alpha growls, the sound more excited than threatening, and I realize that the Weaver is waiting for me to extend my arm. It’s time to be blooded. It’s time to be owned. Dread spreads inside of me like a wildfire through dry terrain.

Hesitantly, I lift my arm, prepared for the bite that will quickly morph into a shackle, tethering me to this life whether I like it or not. I just hope my wolf accepts me after my near abandonment. I wonder if she knows, if she senses what I tried to do.

Before the Weaver grips my arm, Burke steps in front of me. “I’ll be blooding this one,” he announces, and the Weaver looks from him to me and back again, his heavy white eyebrows dipped with consternation. At the tense pause, Burke snarls, “Is that going to be a problem, Yaromir?”

My heart slams in my chest, and I want to shout out, don’t let him touch me, but all I can picture is Hess’s beaten and bloody face, and the words shrivel on my tongue. Eyes wide, I latch onto the Spirit Weaver like he’s my only lifeline, hoping he won’t let this happen.

Yaromir stares at me for a moment, then looks over at the alpha. I follow his gaze, hoping he will protect me, but Burke stares at the Spirit Weaver with eyes that scorch with warning. The Spirit Weaver doesn’t speak a word, but after an edgy moment, he gets to his feet and steps back, conceding to the alpha’s request. I look to Yaromir as though he’s betrayed me, but he avoids my gaze and moves on to the next host.

Burke steps forward and grips my chin, tilting my head up until my angry eyes are fixed on his. A salacious smile spreads across his face, and then I hear his jaw crack and pop as it begins to morph into the muzzle of his pitch-black wolf.

I try to yank my arm away, but his grip is too tight. This is wrong. He shouldn’t be allowed to do this, to mark me like this. The Flux is supposed to be sacred, the blooding done by the Spirit Weaver. My whole life is going to be tainted by this piece of shit, and now he’s going to be allowed to tarnish this too. I pull harder, growling with desperate fury as I try to get away, but before I can so much as push to my feet, Burke pitches forward and sinks his teeth into the meat of my forearm.

Pain explodes through me.

His bite is cruel and vicious, sinking in far deeper than the Weaver would’ve. My mouth opens in shock, but I fight not to let out the cry that bubbles up my