Zara

I always thought his eyes were empty, devoid of any soul. I was wrong; his eyes weren’t empty. They were filled with a burning thirst capable of bringing the world to its knees, a rage that consumed every ounce of compassion or conscience.

Looking into his eyes taught me something: evil doesn’t just happen—it’s born, nurtured, and instilled with knowledge.

I tried to imagine him as a child, his eyes full of wonder and happiness. I didn’t try to find a shred of goodness in him, knowing it was all suppressed by the malicious fire that burned in his eyes, but he wasn’t born evil.

Life had warped him, turned him into this monster, and he never once resisted.

I saw my features reflected in his. Dark hair, full lips, and round eyes. Looking at his face, I realized how little I had received from my mother, and I wondered how she could have ever tolerated my upbringing.

How could she have looked into my eyes for so many years and not seen the evil, twisted man she had once succumbed to? So, he was the man whom my mother cheated on my dad, and the result of their illegitimate relationship is me, sad.

"Do you understand why I need you here, Zara?" he asked, his shining eyes staring at me, peeling back layers until they reached my soul.

I resisted the urge to fidget, to shift uncomfortably under his gaze. Everything about him was tense, frighteningly tense.

I knew without a doubt that with my help, he would achieve his goal. He would...and would not rest until werewolves were almost under him, and humans lined up, too.

"You need...Luna," I repeated the words that had been tormenting me for months.

Marcus watched us closely, his gaze not lingering on his Alpha for long. Alpha snorted, though his demeanor was emotionless.

He looked me over for a moment, running his gaze over my hair, my face, and looking at me thoughtfully. I was sure he saw what I saw, himself in my face.

"Why would I want a queen I can’t trust, whom I can’t control?" He asked, raising one of his dark eyebrows as he looked at me. I had a feeling his question was rhetorical, so I remained silent. "What do you know about witches, Zara?"

The question caught me off guard, and I strained my memory, trying to recall every detail. My dad had told me the history of witches, though little is known about it now.

Most of the information has faded into oblivion or been buried over the centuries. "Not that many," I admitted. "There used to be a lot of witches, but many families died out or went into hiding."

"Do you know why they went into hiding?" He insisted, seeming amused by my ignorance.

"No, I don’t know," I replied.

"My grandfather had a plan that would rid the world of our enemies. A plan that would finally allow demons to emerge into the light," my father continued. "Demons have been at the bottom of the food chain for too long, allowing humans to think they wield any power.

My grandfather hunted witches to near extinction, all the while remaining right under the noses of werewolves."

"What does this have to do with me?" I asked, trying to contain my irritation, so he is a demon. Before leaving the room, Marcus had warned me not to speak out against the king, that he was cruel and vindictive when necessary.

"This all has to do with you." His smile was slivering and serpentine. "Let me tell you a story, and perhaps you’ll understand your destiny."

"Many years ago, the shadows led me to a woman who would be my perfect life mate. She was a werewolf and lived in a small pack with her family. The moment our gazes met, she was swayed by the bond of mating.

I spent countless weeks with her until she allowed me to mark her, and I allowed her to do the same. I told her of my plans, and though she was distraught, she remained by my side."

King began to speak, and I realized he was talking about my mother. I wanted to stop him, to deny that she could ever have been involved in his plans, but Marcus’s firm gaze stopped me.

"I told her of the child we would have and of her importance in this world." The child would be of three different species and possess powers unseen in the world. She would be the product of a werewolf and a demon, but she would possess the power bestowed upon her by generations of witches.

The young, married werewolf was horrified to learn the truth: she would give birth to a monster unlike any other in this world. She fled, but she couldn’t remain in the shadows forever. I found her again, and when I did, I used the bond she so craved against her. You were a product of that, Zara."

My heart sank as I replayed his words over and over in my head, each time refusing to accept them. It was impossible, it couldn’t be. My mother would never side with him, would never abandon her people.

I felt sick, and I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to vomit all over the expensive Persian rug on the floor. He had used the marriage pact against her to conceive me, as I had expected. What I couldn’t understand was how he could have thought this child was me.

Witches were nearly extinct, and I had never seen one in person before. My mother wasn’t a witch, I knew that for sure, and I never showed any signs of strange powers. My mouth dropped open in surprise, and I said the first thing that came to mind.

"My mother wasn’t a witch." I shook my head. "You’re wrong. I’m not that child."

"You’ll learn, I’m rarely wrong." My father smiled grimly, the shadow of the crackling fire flickering across his alabaster skin. "My mother was the last in a long and ancient line of witches. She was half-vampire, and my father sought her out for a very specific purpose. The magic in her bloodline skipped a generation and seemed to manifest only in the women of her family. The magic in my mother’s bloodline skipped her generation, passing to you."

I wanted to cover my ears, to ignore everything he said, like a child. Marcus’s steady gaze was the only thing that kept me from going crazy, reminding me to remain calm and respectful.

My father wasn’t above hurting me, and our family ties wouldn’t have stopped him from throwing me in a cell next to Sophia and Govinda.