by Kamryn Hart
Kamryn Hart
Copyright
Copyright © 2018 Kamryn Hart
All Rights Reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted, etc.
This is a work of fiction.
kamrynhartauthor.com
Summary
I was sold to werewolves.
They said I’m the Lost Princess of Howling Sky. I said I’m just Sorissa. They said I’m to be claimed by a lecherous prince and that I’ll end some timeless war between werewolves, vampires, and humans. I made other plans.
Then four powerful werewolves from a rival kingdom came out of nowhere, and I was stolen again.
They call themselves Phantom Fangs. Now, they’re taking me to their kingdom to keep me “safe.” They probably intend for some other prince to claim me instead. But I’m going to change their minds. They’re different from the other werewolves. They’re kind, they listen to me, and they make my blood run hot.
Can I trust them?
Claim the princess, rule the world.
The Lost Princess of Howling Sky
Prologue: Phantom Fangs FREE
Book 1: Taken by Werewolves
Book 2: Saving the Werewolves
Book 3: Queen of Werewolves
Marked by the Moon
Book 0: Her True Wolf FREE
Book 1: Her Brave Wolf
Book 2: Her Fierce Wolf
Book 3: Her Wild Wolf
Book 4: Her Noble Owl
Book 5: Her Bad Cat
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Table of Contents
Copyright
Kamryn's Books
Map of Prime
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Prime: World Guide
FREE Book
Message from the Author
About the Author
CHAPTER 1
SORISSA
IT WAS REALLY HAPPENING. For the first time in my life, I was going to see the world outside of the woods. This was the best present Babaga could have given me for my eighteenth birthday. This meant everything. For years, I had been asking for this. This meant I was old enough to handle it. This meant she trusted me.
Babaga stayed a few paces behind me as I sped up. My boots touched the cold earth below with gentle taps as my lightweight tunic swished against my pants. The new blades of soft grass and fresh dirt absorbed the sound of my footfalls. The deciduous trees were emerging from their dormant state to welcome the first day of spring with a myriad of greens. I darted around small flowers offering splashes of color, and I smiled as the first warm breeze of the season wafted past me.
It wasn’t long after that when the woods began to thin. I could see the rays of morning sunlight rise from my back and trickle through the canopy overhead. The trickle grew, morphing into wide rays. The lake was the only place inside of the woods where I could feel the sun like this without trees to obstruct it. I knew we were getting close to the edge.
Through the thin trunks of young trees and the gnarled trunks of old trees, I caught my first glimpse of the world outside. All my life, I wished for this. All my life, I envisioned what it would be like. Everything I thought I’d see was fueled by the fairytales Babaga read to me and taught me to read as she raised me. I imagined something beautiful. I imagined seeing a pack of werewolves, my own kind, for the first time and becoming the first werea to reach alpha. I imagined catching and befriending a vampire in the night to challenge their belief that they ruled it. I imagined humans working in the sun, farming the vegetables and fruits they lived off of while singing jovially.
The world I had imagined fractured as I neared the end of the woods. My face fell, but I didn’t slow my pace. I sped up because this couldn’t be true. I cleared the last of the trees and came to a dead stop.
This was not the world I wanted.
Everything was ashen and flat aside from bare mounds of earth and mountains in the distance. My boots left imprints in ground that was solid but coated with a thick layer of gray powder. Each step I took created a dust cloud that made me cough and gummed up my mouth. The sun was harsh as it continued to rise higher in the sky, highlighting nothing but a wasteland. There was nothing.
Suddenly, I wanted to flee. I wanted to go back to the woods. Why hadn’t Babaga told me? Why did she let me believe those fairytales were real? It was obvious they were nothing but stories. I was the last werewolf. She was the last witch. Us and the animals in the woods. That was the world. Everything outside was Hell.
“Babaga!” I pleaded as I turned to face my caregiver with tears in my eyes.
She raised a speckled, knobby finger and pointed past me as a harsh gust of wind stole away strands of her silver hair out from under the hood of her cloak.
I reluctantly looked behind me again, more toward my left to decipher what she could possibly be pointing at. Then I saw it, color beyond the ash. I squinted, trying to make out more, but a big cloud of dust was bellowing toward us. I considered delving into my low reserves of moonlight to heighten my eyesight, but Babaga came up behind me and grabbed my arm, hard. I flinched at the pinching sensation.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“It’s time for you to leave,” she replied, “to live your destiny, perhaps, my sweet Sorissa. No. Princess Sorissa va Lupin of Howling Sky.”
“W-what?” I balked. “What are you talking about, Babaga? Princess? Va Lupin? Howling Sky?”
I tried to pull out of Babaga’s grasp, but she held fast. I’d break her hand if I struggled too much. She was old and frail. I was young and strong. I glanced at the large dust cloud rolling toward us. There was a horrible roaring sound accompanying it.
“We need to get back inside of the woods,” I urged. “Whatever beast is inside of that cloud is dangerous.”
“That beast is your escort.”
“No,” I growled, and anger consumed me. I didn’t know what was going on. I didn’t like how calm Babaga was acting because it made me wonder if we were in danger at all, but I was going to get an explanation from inside of the woods. I would carry Babaga back. I went to grab her, but she shied away from me, releasing my arm at the same time.
“Don’t fight me,” she warned. “I don’t want to force you.”
“What is that noise?!” I demanded as I covered my throbbing ears, squinted my eyes, and looked back at the dust storm. It was almost right in front of us now. It was moving so fast, about to consume us. Then the sound stopped. The dust cloud puffed out angrily and dissipated into the air. I blinked the burning sensation away from my eyes and saw a metal monster with four rectangular glowing eyes. It was still, sitting on top of fat blackish wheels that distantly resembled the wheels on Babaga’s wooden wagon b
ack at the cottage. It had glass fitted all around it similar to the windows back at the cottage too, but they were tinted, hard to see through. Maybe it wasn’t alive at all…
I gasped and jumped back when three doors at its sides flung open. Babaga took my arm again. I thought it was to steady me, but I soon realized she did it to hold me in place. Three figures hopped out of the metal beast. They were big, intimidating. Though I had never seen a male of my own species, or anyone other than myself, I recognized them as just that; there was a subtle tingling in my nose that told me so. The only males I knew anything about were the animals in the woods—and the werewolves, vampires, and humans illustrated in the books Babaga had. At least I had that, but I ended up gawking at the strangers, overcome with curiosity rather than fear. Then it turned to nervousness. They were much older than me. Their skin was worn but not wrinkled. They were wearing strange clothes, crisp uniforms made of steel-gray material. They had only a small pop of yellow coming from an insignia on their right breast; it depicted a paw.
“Babaga,” I hissed, “I think I deserve some sort of explanation.”
Her reply was to push me forward. I wasn’t expecting this kind of strength from her withered form, but it wasn’t physical strength. She used her magic to shove me like a powerful burst of wind. My dark curly hair fanned around me and into my face as I stumbled toward the males. The werewolf in front of the others caught my arm and grabbed my chin with his other hand. His skin was coarse. My jaw clenched when he forced my head from side to side, examining me. I tried to examine him in turn. It was hard to get a good look at him; however, I took note of his dark-brown skin and the angry pink scar on his right cheek.
“Here she is,” Babaga said, “as promised.”
“I won’t ask what the fuck she’s wearing. It makes her look male,” the werewolf holding me replied. “But she looks like she’s in good shape.”
The grit in his voice sent a shiver down my spine. His tone was so deep, like nothing I’d ever heard before. And he sounded hostile. I wanted to bare my teeth, but I couldn’t muster the strength. My head was spinning. Babaga promised to give me to them?
My captor pressed his nose to my neck, and I yelped as his hot breath on my skin mingled with the scratchy sensation of his facial hair. I had enough. I squirmed and tried to bite him, but he was ready for me. He took a fistful of my long hair and jerked my head back so hard it burned. Stars burst in my vision, bright and white-hot.
“Put her in the roader,” he said gruffly as he shoved me toward the other two werewolves.
“Wait,” Babaga commanded. Her voice was deadly calm, quiet even, but these werewolves knew to obey. I desperately hoped she had changed her mind about sending me off with these males. I was dependent on her because I was too stupid to ration my moonlight reserves from the last full moon. I was almost drained at a time when I actually needed my power. I cursed Babaga for doing this to me. Yes, I was careless to use it without restraint, but I had never needed to care. I had never suspected she would betray me like this.
Betrayal. This was my first taste of it, the thread that would unravel my naivety.
The werewolves hesitated. They didn’t let me go, but they didn’t force me into their beast, this roader. They stood still as Babaga hobbled over to me. Her hands disappeared inside of her plain black cloak and surfaced again with a parcel. It was rectangular, covered in brown paper and tied with twine.
“This is for you, Princess Sorissa,” Babaga murmured as she took my hands and placed the parcel in them. It felt like the weight of a book. A damn fairytale.
Tears collected in my eyes, and I tried to blink them away. “Let me stay,” I begged. “Whatever I did wrong, I’ll fix it. Please, Babaga. Please.”
She knew she could overpower me if she didn’t want me in her woods. She also knew I lacked the moonlight needed to get away from these males. I had already figured out that their base physical strength was greater than mine. I was outnumbered, unarmed. Babaga had taken my hunting knife. She did it on purpose so I would use up my moonlight. She knew I would rely on it more than ever. She did this to me on purpose. All of it was planned, and it stung like salt rubbed into a gaping wound.
I was too distressed to attempt slipping away. I might have been able to manage it. I knew how to fight. But where would I go? I didn’t know this world. Would I be better on my own or would I be better off with the werewolves who wanted me for reasons I didn’t understand?
I thought Babaga loved me.
“I’m sorry,” Babaga said in barely a whisper. “This is out of my control. The deal was struck when I first took you in. You no longer have a place in these woods. You never belonged to me. I have fulfilled my end of the bargain, and the deed is done.”
“What are you talking about?” I sobbed and clutched the little brown parcel, pressing it into my chest. I had still been hoping she would change her mind, but that hope was shattered with the finality of her words. Then she turned her back on me. No more words. No pity. I no longer existed to her.
“No!” I roared and dug into the small amount of moonlight I did have left. Blue lights exploded around me in angry moving tendrils. It was enough to power me up for a couple minutes or to maybe shift once for one minute. I didn’t care. I just knew, right then, that I didn’t want to go with these males.
My boots dug into the earth as the muscles in my legs coiled in preparation for a powerful leap. I expected to be soaring through the air, but I was grounded instead. Two of the males were on me, pressing me into the ashy earth and sending up a cloud of throat-tickling dust. I coughed and quickly let my moonlight settle into dormancy deep within me again. The werewolves on top of me were glowing brightly, different hues of blues dancing around them on full blast. They had much more moonlight to spare than I did. At that moment, I knew I wouldn’t escape if I acted rashly. I would have to bide my time and wait. There was no powering my way out of this situation. That handicap was something I wasn’t accustomed to, but I never lacked in determination.
I quieted down, allowing the males to pull me upright just to shove me into their metal beast. I was still holding on to that parcel Babaga gave me, tighter with each passing moment, almost melding it to my chest as I squished it against my breasts to avoid being touched. I couldn’t move. The two werewolves slid in and sat at either side of me. They locked me into this firm leather seat, moonlight coming off them like flames licking at my skin, biting and burning. I shrunk further inside of myself, trying to escape the sensation. I had never known moonlight to be virulent, but I had never experienced anyone aside from myself wielding it. Moonlight was neutral when presented by the moon.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here before the witch changes her mind,” the male to my left barked. He was completely bald, no eyebrows or eyelashes either. His eyes were impossibly light, a bit unnerving. I wondered if his moonlight form was as naked and white as he appeared to be.
“Don’t tell me what to do if you want to keep breathing, Den,” the scarred one threatened as he sat in a seat located in front of me and to the left. He had a wheel at his hands and a key he stuck inside of the beast and turned. The roader roared to life, and I instinctively covered my ears just to hear my heart pounding inside of them like a hammer smashing rocks. This roar was metallic, not a breathing beast. A roader wasn’t a living thing after all. It was technocraft. Babaga went off on a wild rant about that “unholy magic” once before when I was pestering her about leaving the woods. Did I ever regret that now.
“Seatbelts,” the scarred one announced.
A small gasp escaped my lips as the dark-skinned male to my right snapped a restrictive bind around me and the roader began to move. At first, it was slow, rickety, as the scarred male turned the wheel in his hands and the roader looped around. He turned the wheel back, pressed his foot down hard, and the roader squealed ferociously as gray surrounded us, blocking out the world outside of the tinted windows. There was no coughing this time since the roader effec
tively kept all the dust outside, but I was glued to my seat as it picked up speed, escaping the cloud while leaving a swirling storm behind in its wake. Technocraft truly was monstrous.
I glanced at the werewolf to my right. He was staring out the window. His dark hair was shaved down to his scalp, and he had a solemn face. My captors mostly looked alike because of their similar age, uniforms, and in the way they were shaped. Flat chests, big arms, hard and chiseled faces. They looked a lot like the males in those fairytale illustrations. They looked like me too, but my arms were sticks in comparison. I was smaller, smoother, my face soft.
I looked past him to watch the world zooming by through a window. We were leaving gray behind and approaching color. That had to be a good thing, at least.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Paws Peak,” the scarred male in front replied, “back to your own kind.” His eyes were focused on the world in front of him. It seemed he was in complete control of the roader, using his hands and feet in tandem.
“I can’t believe you were in those Godsforsaken woods with that witch for eighteen years,” Den, the bald one to my left, commented. “I wonder if crazy is catching.” He was staring at me with his unsettlingly pale eyes. There was a strange heat in them for a moment. Then they widened impossibly, and he shimmied as far away from me as he could get, his back against the door.
“Den!” the scarred male growled. “Treat the Lost Princess with some fucking respect. She’ll be your queen one day.”
“I’m not a princess,” I retorted. “And I wasn’t lost until you males came and stole me away from my woods.”
The scarred male laughed boisterously, and the dark-skinned male to my right cracked a sinister grin. The scarred one quieted down a moment later and cleared his throat.
“Do you know anything at all, Princess Sorissa?” he asked. His tone was condescending.
