Slade (Team Greywolf 1)

She stopped and moaned. “I feel ill.”

Raulf turned. “Come, we'll go the back to your quarters.”

Cricket rolled her eyes, stumbled forward into his arms and pickpocketed his mobile. The weakness not a total sham. Her recovery had been slow. Too slow.

Raulf picked her up and carried her to her room. Inside, he set her on the bed. She blinked. “What’s going on?”

“You fainted.”

“I’m still not used to the elevation.”

“Shall I send for a medic?”

“No. I just need rest.” She smiled. “Oriana will be a suitable mate for you.”

He raised a brow. “Thought so.” He left.

The lock clicked.

She sighed and dashed to the bathroom away from the camera. She texted Rylee, about her status and sent the lab facility coordinates. Ragnarok. Must destroy. She hit send and turned off the mobile. Now I need to get rid of it, but where? Too big for the toilet. For now, she shoved it beneath her pillow.

She glanced at the door. How soon before Raulf noticed his missing mobile?

If only Slade or rather Prince Bain would come in and have his way with her as he threatened. Until she snapped him out of his memory-wipe. If that was even possible. Would Lunara, their wolf shaman, be able to retrieve his lost soul? Once Rylee received the coordinates, she might bomb every inch of the territory with Slade still inside thinking he was Wolfstrom’s son and married to a mad she-wolf.

Shit. I must figure out a way to get him out. That is if she survived that long. After Wolfstrom harvested her ova, she’d be disposed of anyway.

Cricket donned a loose white gown for the evening gathering. It had been hours and Raulf had not come back to search for his phone. All he had to do was sniff the trail back to her. Maybe he left to join the hunt.

Howls echoed throughout the palace. Mourning howls. Someone died. She cocked her head, her desire to cry for the departed tempted her to shift. What if Slade had died? She paced, her mind swirling with emotions. No. Unless he remembered and they executed him as a lost cause. With nothing better to do, she napped, resting her head on the pillow that hid the phone.

Henrik came in. “Cricket, are you ready?”

She opened her eyes and bolted up. “Yes.”

“Good, come.”

Cricket straightened her gown and glanced in the mirror. Not bad. As long as we get out of the room before he catches Raulf’s scent on the phone. Yet, why would he? Unless Raulf reported it missing.

She followed him out of her room into the hallway.

“The guards will escort you to the rally.”

Cricket turned to Henrik. “You’re staying here?”

“Go on. I’ll catch up later.”

She took a breath. Her door had closed. Doubtful he meant to look for Raulf’s phone. That was Raulf’s job. And wouldn’t he be too embarrassed to admit a lowly runt took his mobile?

They exited the castle and headed toward a huge field facing a stage surrounded by a forest. Cricket followed him to the rally. Hardcore pulse-like bass and drumbeats accompanied howls. A DJ blasted the electronic music from giant speakers.

The guard handed her earplugs. “Wear these.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just play soft rock?”

He ignored her.

Naked werewolves in various stages from human to wolf danced in a trancelike state. A dangerous situation for humans and other animals not part of the pack. A call for a pre-hunt rave werewolf dance party.