The Wolf Queen (The Queen's Slave, Book 2)

Thirteen: Lamentation

"And the angels who did not keep their positions of authority but abandoned their proper dwelling-these he has kept in darkness, bound with everlasting chains for judgment on the great Day."

-Jude 1:6

Hate You By: Ingrid Michaelson

"So, where exactly does that leave us?" I wondered aloud into the dark room, taking in the grim faces around me. Elizabeth's hands braced against the windowsill, the muscles in her back bunched as she overlooked the dark night. Elijah's face sported a nasty sneer, his disapproval at my loosely clothed frame and the new bite mark at my neck was achingly apparent. Camille simply smiled, that strange gleam flashing across her eyes. I inwardly grimaced, knowing that I would be spending another night here and then leaving early tomorrow morning. It was dangerous to stay even now, but Elizabeth had begged me to.

"One more night." She pleaded as I paced back and forth across the bedroom, running my hands through my thick hair, gripping the roots in exasperation. "Beloved, please." My heart broke at the quiet fear in her eyes, the worry that it was the last time she'd ever see me.

"Okay." I finally relented and her arms immediately wrapped around me, pulling me into her while her hands slipped beneath my shirt to slide across my scarred skin. Heat pooled into my belly and powerless to resist, my lips found hers with surprising urgency. I shuddered and bit back a moan as her lips left mine to trail down my jaw and neck, the hard press of her fangs against the inside of her mouth sent a excited thrill through down my back. Her fingers trembled as she slowly slipped beneath the waistline of my sleep pants. The kiss grew deeper, the press of her fangs more prominent and I couldn't resist the guttural moan that escaped as I imagined them buried into the skin of my thigh while she pushed inside of me. Her pained groan matched mine as she forced herself away, her lips glistening and plump from our kiss. Now was not the time or place for such things yet as our minds collided, it became imperative that we needed it.

Her fingers found the sharp cut of my jaw, moving to my lips and then my cheekbones. She traced every detail of my face as her dark eyes equally searched and memorized every feature. "One more night." I acquiesced as her mouth touched mine in an achingly sweet kiss.

Warmth bloomed across my elbow and I shook my head free of the heartwarming memory, blinking up into the eyes of my mate. "Camille was speaking to you." She rumbled softly, a knowing look in her lioness eyes. I straightened my spine and blushed, switching my gaze to the red haired witch.

"Sorry, I was uh, distracted." Her lips twisted up into a smile. I wasn't sure if I was overly tired or if her gaze had actually softened slightly the longer she looked at me.

"It's quite alright dear. I was simply answering your question. It leaves us at an impasse. You see, I for one think Elizabeth would make a wonderful queen. But I can also understand why she would forsake the throne. Elijah is not bound to another, therefore he has no say in the concept of a bond-," her words were cut off by sarcastic laughter.

"The fuck I don't! She is a child, Camille! How can you not see it? A child," He scoffed, baring his teeth at her in rage.

"Elijah." Eizabeth warned, her voice a low hiss as she ground her teeth. "Have care how you speak."

Ignoring her, his dark eyes raked over my form with no little amount of distain. "And where were you while the rest of us searched for you? I thought you were dead, Azalea. I thought that maybe my brother had gotten to you or worse, my mother. Imagine my disgust when I find out you've been here the whole time, whoring yourself around in barely any clothing. Your father would be disgusted." I stepped back, feeling as though I'd been slapped. I was beyond shocked by his sudden animosity towards me, unable to see the reasoning in which he pleaded underneath the sting. Elizabeth's grip on my elbow tightened briefly before she released me, her body coiling in on itself as if she were a bowstring wound too tight.