Excerpt 1
IN A FORGOTTEN CASTLE IN WYLDERLAND…

Alone with Grendel, the man she had been tempted to love, the prince she loathed, Vynasha didn’t want to wake up. Let her sleep for a thousand years like the cursed princess, Morana. Let these walls crumble, the rose garden spread throughout the keep with thorns and vines to keep the world out forever.

“I know you are awake, Ashes.”

Vynasha opened her eyes. The prince stood before the hearth, his back to her. He hadn’t changed clothes since she had last seen him. Yet his faintly luminous skin had dimmed from bronze to the dull gray she remembered. “What happened?” she asked.

“A fever in your sleep. Odym says it was the runes.” Grendel’s shoulders hunched as he hung his head. “I should not have come, I know this. But I…” he twisted to face her. “Forgive me, Vynasha, but I cannot stay away from you any longer. I could feel your pain through the bond, yet there was nothing I could do to stop her,” he growled. “Do not ask me to leave you again, I beg of you.”

Vynasha should have been disgusted, but she was coming to accept the fact that Odym had been right. No matter how she truly felt, they needed each other. And she could not deny the way his words danced about her mind and breathed life back into her limbs.

“I wish I could tell you I was different,” he continued, “before my mother cursed me. But the truth is, I was always a monster.” Grendel drew his shoulders back and lifted his chin, pushing away from the fireplace mantel. He shook his head and held his hands before him, palms upturned. “I never wanted to be my father. I shall not make his mistakes, and so I will be honest with you, Ash. No more secrets.”

She shuddered and desperately wished she could bathe, could banish dreams of Nymwe and be rid of the prince. The dread she felt before only grew as Grendel paused, clenching his fists as though steeling himself for words he could not take back.

“I owe you everything, so much more than you know. When you willingly accepted the curse, you took some of the monster into you. I have not been forced to change into a beast ever since. It has given me time to remember myself in your absence, who I was and who I hope to be.”

Vynasha ground her sharp teeth. So they not only shared a bond with his spirit, but she had taken part of his beast? That they were forced to share something she had learned to take pride in made her ill.

Whatever he saw in her face must have pained him, enough for him to turn away. “Forgive me. I shall go. I should have never hoped…” He shook his head, dispelling whatever he might have said as he took two more steps to the door.

She traced the tip of her tongue on her lip, tasting the blood she spilled to forget. His hand was on the doorknob when she said, “Wait.” The strength behind her command surprised her and caused the prince to freeze in place.

Vynasha lifted her hand with surprising ease. “Stay?”

We need each other.

His graying skin flickered to golden life as he turned with hope burning in his violet eyes. “Always.”

At his word, his promise, Vynasha released the breath she didn’t know she had been holding. Even then, a small corner of her mind railed against her actions, at the feelings she couldn’t seem to control. It must Grendel’s influence, his feelings trickling through their bond.

This is wrong.

Still, she couldn’t deny how the persistent itch beneath her skin abated with him beside her, holding her hand. It shouldn’t have mattered. Truly, she hated how easily she gave in to these feelings. She could never tell him. Grendel had bound her life to his. Even if she were to leave, to beg the wylderfolk to take her back into their home, she would never be rid of him. And the longer she remained in the prince’s castle, the less she wanted to be free.

Excerpt 2
IN A FORBIDEN DREAM IN WYLDERLAND…

The journey seemed to take far longer than she remembered, and part of her feared the passage of time here compared to the world her body remained behind. Ceddrych had told her countless tales of the dangers of magick, of what happened when one dwelled too long in enchanted dreams.

Here the palace looked less like a ruin wrought from rampage. Candles gave off an unnatural silver glow and the hovering lights that had been trailing Vynasha seemed to thicken and gather as she lifted a hand to push open the doors to the throne room. They cracked open before her hand could touch the intricately carved wood.

Snow filtered in through the broken ceiling and rose vines curled over every surface, crawling up the obsidian columns and steps to the throne. Surrounding the steps, the shadow-spirits of beasts of every size and shape lounged and paced. Their forms flickered about the edges, and their eyes glowed brightly, turning to fix upon Vynasha as she slowly entered the hall. 

Upon the throne, the thorned vines had dug into a hunched over man. His blood gleamed luminous violet, the same shade as hers was now. 

With every step she took, the full wreck of his downfall became increasingly apparent. The shadow beasts at her back pressed closer, urging her forward. Vynasha clenched her fists and refused to climb the steps to face him.

“Grendel.” Her voice echoed like a plucked lute string through the cavernous hall.

Grendel shuddered and then raised his head and looked at her with dead violet eyes. “Vynasha.” The crack in his voice echoed clearly to her ears. His eyes widened when she remained, and his vine-wrapped hands clawed at the arms of his throne. “You have come at last.”

Her feet began to move of their own accord. She barely caught herself in time. She could not, would not go to him, and certainly never pity him. “What happened here? Why are my roses taking over like this?” 

“Can you not guess, Vynasha” Grendel leaned forward, ignoring the press of the rose crowning his dark hair. “Vynasha, you have no idea how your absence has undone me. It has been pure torture to sense you but never able to touch you.”

“Good.” Vynasha took a single involuntary step up the stairs leading to his throne. His violet eyes flared wide with apprehension as she growled, “You and your monsters have made our lives a living hell, Grendel. It’s only fair I repay your bloody kindness.”

Grendel’s lips parted and his gaze took in the full measure of her with all the subtlety of a starving man. “Yet you are here,” he said, a new clarity brightening his violet gaze. His hands flexed against the arms of his throne. “You are truly here, and that means the spell has been broken.”

Vynasha flinched at his sudden smile and found herself unable to take a step back. Her feet drove her forward once more, and this time she had no power over herself to stop. “What are you doing to me?”

Grendel’s hand twitched and then she was flung forward. He groaned as he caught her, the thorns digging deeper into his flesh. She cried out as the same thorns cut her palms as she braced herself against his chest. “I have you, at last, I have you,” he said, eyes bright with unshed tears.

He was mad. No, she was mad. For the instant her hands found his flesh, a roaring wave of need assaulted her. She could rage at him and claim this was his need she felt, not her own. But this compulsion was familiar, forbidden and something she had fought desperately to forget in the past three moons.

“Grendel, let me go” she pleaded as she leaned into him, the pain of his thorns forgotten as he pulled her into his lap and began to press his lips over every part of her he could reach. 

“How could I give you up my beauty, my love, my queen?”

She couldn’t breathe. The scent of roses, of life and death, of him were overwhelming. A part of her was starving, had been starving for months, she realized wish sickening clarity. “I hate you,” she sobbed as she tilted her chin and gave him further access to her neck. “If you pull me back here again, I will find a way to kill you, I swear it.”

“You cannot kill me without killing yourself, love,” he said with a laugh. 

“Then we both die.” She shook her head but could not help tracing her nose along his neck, to draw in more of his heady scent.

“Vynasha,” he cried as her lips pressed to his pulse. “Please, Vynasha!”

But he was no longer tangible beneath her hands, the thorns no longer piercing them both. The painful aching need to mold herself to him faded just as she did, her hands disappearing before her eyes.

“Vynasha!” He cried with an agony she felt as her spirit was ripped free from Grendel’s nightmare. And the world around her dimmed, consumed by a cloud of inky ashes.