The Winter King's Venomous Mate

Chapter 2

Lyra

"Sister, open the door! I brought you your very first gift as a newlywed!"

Elara’s voice seeped through the cracks of the rotting wooden door, the sugary sweetness of her tone so thick it made my stomach churn.

I ignored her, crouching on the damp floorboards in front of Kael’s wheelchair. I took a pair of iron shears and carefully cut away the blood-soaked bandages wrapped tightly around his calves.

The festering wounds left by the silver weapons were horrifying. Black, venomous veins crawled up his pale skin, pulsing with a fiery, unnatural heat with every shallow breath he took. The silver poisoning was spreading, eating away at his wolf.

Kael lowered his dark gold eyes to watch me, his expression unreadable.

"You don't need to answer her," he rasped, his voice rough from the pain.

I picked up the stone mortar and began grinding a handful of dried herbs. "If I don't let her in, she'll just have her guards smash the door."

Barely a second later, the wooden door was violently kicked open by a Silver Moon pack guard. The rusted hinges screamed in protest.

Elara stood in the doorway, lifting the pristine hem of her silk dress to avoid the mud. She held a woven basket in her arms. Behind her, four female wolves sneered, holding moldy bread and a stack of filthy, moth-eaten blankets.

The moment Elara’s eyes landed on the bowl of medicinal paste in my hands, she pinched her nose in exaggerated disgust.

"Sister, why are you still touching that filthy garbage? Cedric already made it clear. The wounds on those dying in the Rogue Sector can't be healed. Stop wasting our pack's resources."

I stood up, shielding Kael's injured legs from her view.

"Put the things down, and get out."

Elara blinked, her eyes wide with feigned hurt. "I came all this way out of the goodness of my heart to see you, and you're chasing me away?"

One of the female wolves behind her snorted and tossed the basket onto the floor. The moldy loaves of bread tumbled out, rolling straight into a puddle of dirty rainwater.

"Miss Elara brought this for you. You should be on your knees thanking her," the guard barked.

I didn't move a muscle. My gaze remained icy.

Elara took a few steps forward, her dainty shoes clicking against the floorboards. She purposefully swung her skirt, the heavy fabric catching the edge of the wooden table where I had lined up my glass vials of medicine.

Crash.

A row of glass bottles shattered against the floor. The dark green liquid pooled into the cracks of the wood, mixing with shards of glass.

My chest tightened. That was the soothing herbal extract my late mother had left behind. For ten years, the Silver Moon Pack had relied on that very formula to suppress their feral instincts during the blood-moon frenzies.

Elara looked down at the shattered glass, her hands flying to her mouth in a perfect picture of innocence.

"Oh my, how clumsy of me. Sister won't be angry, right?"

Behind me, I felt Kael's hand twitch against the armrest of his wheelchair. The air temperature in the room plummeted, his dark pine scent turning sharp with killing intent.

I reached back without looking and pressed my hand firmly over his.

Don't move.

Elara stared at our overlapping hands, her smile deepening into something wicked.

"Sister adapts so quickly. Just last night Cedric threw you to him, and today you're already acting like a protective little mate."

The female wolves burst into mocking laughter.

"Even the Betas without wolves despised her. Of course she has to cling to a crippled Rogue."

"A man who won't even live to see the sunrise. She's the only one desperate enough to want him."

I calmly bent down, picked up the single glass vial that had miraculously survived the fall, and placed it back on the table.

As I reached for the broom, Elara stepped forward, planting the heel of her shoe directly onto the back of my hand.

She didn't press down hard enough to break bone, but the humiliation was deliberate.

"Sister," Elara whispered, leaning in closer. "I heard that the herb garden your mother left you is right behind this shack."

I slowly lifted my head.

Elara leaned over me, her disgustingly sweet pheromones rolling off her in waves, intentionally trying to suffocate Kael.

"Cedric has already promised me that the garden belongs to me now. I think I'll plant white roses there. It'll be the perfect spot to host my Luna tea parties. Those bitter herbs of yours smell absolutely dreadful. Burning them all to ash would be doing everyone a favor."

The old, festering wound in my chest ripped wide open.

Before my mother died, she had entrusted that small patch of earth to me. It was the only thing of hers I had left. It was the only thing I could take with me when I was officially banished from the pack's inner circle.

Before I could speak, Cedric’s voice violently intruded into my mind through the pack’s Mind-link. It was cold, hard, and laced with deep impatience.

Lyra, do not upset Elara. This is the last shred of dignity I am allowing you.

I froze for a fraction of a second.

Seeing my silence, Elara assumed I had yielded to fear. She pressed her heel down harder, a cruel glint in her eyes.

"Did you hear what Cedric said?"

I raised my free hand, grabbed her ankle, and slowly, with terrifying strength, shoved her foot away.

"I heard him."

On the other end of the Mind-link, Cedric opened his mouth to bark another command.

I closed my eyes. I traced the frayed, rotting tether of our severed mate bond in my mind, found the spiritual pathway connecting me to his mind, and ruthlessly slashed it apart.

Snap.

My mind went blissfully silent.

A split second later, a short, agonized howl erupted from the direction of the Pack House in the distance.

Elara’s face paled instantly. She whipped her head toward the window.

"What did you do?!" she shrieked.

I picked up the broom and casually swept the broken glass out the door.

"You've delivered your gifts. Now leave."

Elara’s chest heaved with fury. She raised a hand to slap me, but before her palm could even descend, Kael slowly lifted his eyes and looked at her.

Just a look.

Elara's hand froze in mid-air. The blood drained entirely from her face, her instincts screaming at her to submit to the overwhelming predator in the room. She stumbled backward, gasping for air.

Gritting her teeth, she grabbed her skirts and bolted for the door.

"Tomorrow is the Full Moon Festival!" she yelled from the safety of the mud outside. "I'll be waiting for you to come crawling back to apply my medicine, Sister!"

Once the door slammed shut, the cramped shack was left with only the scent of spilled herbal juice and the damp smell of rain.

I knelt quietly beside Kael’s legs. I pulled a silver dagger from my boot and, without hesitation, sliced open my own palm.

Thick, dark red blood dripped into the stone mortar, mixing with the crushed herbs. The moment my blood hit the mixture, the paste bubbled, releasing a wave of intense heat.

Kael’s eyes locked onto my bleeding hand, his jaw clenching.

"Your blood shouldn't be given to werewolves," he said, his voice tight.

I scooped up the warm paste and pressed it directly onto his festering silver wounds.

"You aren't one of them."

He gripped the armrests of his wheelchair, his knuckles turning white as he endured the blinding pain of the cure. The scent of pine in the room grew heavier, thicker.

Beneath the blood-soaked paste, the blackened, venomous veins began to rapidly recede.

Kael slowly released his grip on the chair. He reached out, his calloused fingertips gently grazing the angry red mark on the back of my hand where Elara had stepped on me.

His touch sent a jolt of electricity up my arm.

"He broke what was yours," Kael murmured, his dark gold eyes flashing with a dangerous, ancient promise. "Let me use his pack to pay you back. Does that sound fair?"