A Court of Fur and Fangs

Zara Dusk A Court of Fur and Fangs Copyright © 2023 by Zara Dusk All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission. This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. Zara Dusk asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. First edition This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy This is for the powerful women who still need a little wolf in their lives. Contents Leif Alara Alara Alara Alara Leif Leif Leif Alara Alara Leif Alara Leif Alara Leif Leif Alara Leif Alara Leif Alara Leif Leif Gabrelle Alara Alara Leif Alara Leif Alara Leif Alara Leif Alara Alara Leif Leif Epilogue Free novella About the Author Also by Zara Dusk Leif Shifting into my wolf form was a sweet relief. My stress melted away. The pressures and responsibilities of being thrust into the role of alpha shed from me as my fur grew and my muscles lengthened and thickened. As soon as I emerged from the moonway, brushing through the thick dark foliage in the forest, I stripped and shifted, leaving a puddle of clothing on the leaf litter. My muscles coiled then released, my paws on the mulchy undergrowth like thunder in the silent woods. Every stride pounded away my anger and fear, muting it. At least for now. The Lakehouse was a distant speck on the far side of the lake. Often I swam across, but today I needed to run. The path through the forest was not discernible to the fae eye, but as a wolf, the trail was clear, a track of familiar scents I knew like the back of my paw. I’d trodden it a thousand times. When I emerged from the forest, the Lakehouse looked somber and still, as black and dead as my heart. If there was one thing I’d learned these past few months, it was that danger lurked everywhere. Even here at the Lakehouse, the sanctuary for me and my four best friends, the other heirs to the thrones in the Realm of Verda…Even here, I couldn’t relax. I climbed the stairs to the Lakehouse deck, shifting into fae form. It used to be fun, and I’d set myself challenges. Could I transform while running? Could I shift while swimming? While climbing stairs? Like everything else, I now knew how stupid and childish that was. The ability to change forms wasn’t a game but a war skill, every bit as important as my claws and fangs and as valuable as my know-how with the sword. I stood momentarily on the deck, staring across the black lake. Its surface was perfectly still, like a glass mirror reflecting back the stars. The trees lining the shore reached for the sky, their piney scent mingling with damp earth and moss. In that moment, it seemed like I could dive in and swim down, down, plunging the depths, and never reaching the bottom. The house behind me was just as dark, the floor-to-ceiling glass windows reflecting that same sliver of moon in their black surface. In fae form, my responsibilities dragged on me, and the pit of heat in my belly started to flame. I was naked, of course. Nudity didn’t bother me—I used to love seeing the look of shock on my friends’ faces. Even my best buddies, the other heirs to the thrones of Verda, always reacted strongly. A smirk, a laugh, a scowl. I did anything to steal their attention. It felt like years ago when my biggest concern was whether I could convince one of the heirs to sleep with me and what food I could scrounge from Dion. But in the weeks since Mom died, my whole world had changed. I’d grown up a whole lot. I realized now those were childish games, the efforts of a damn court jester. Today, turning up naked wasn’t a ploy for attention or sex but because I didn’t care. I didn’t give a fuck. Sliding open the glass door, I stepped inside the main room and instantly froze. Somebody was there. My ears pricked up, and my hackles rose, my wolf instincts suddenly on high alert. Sometimes Shadow Walkers lurked in the gloom, so I’d learned to be afraid of the dark. I summoned a globe of light, casting a weak warm glow about the room, looking for the source of my tension. It was just Gabrelle. She lay on her glass chaise longue, looking beautiful and elegant even in sleep. Her soft pink hair cascaded around her brown shoulders, and her soft, plump lips were slightly ajar as though inviting a kiss. She wore a cream négligée that pulled awkwardly across her belly and slipped sideways, revealing a flash of light brown breast, with a soft blue blanket covering her legs. A hint of passionfruit wafted around her. Gabrelle was the heir of House Allura, the house of beauty. If she was a goddess, she’d be Aphrodite. As the heir of the house of sensuality, I’d spent my whole life trying to get in Gabrelle’s pants. Dion had invented some no-sex pact, claiming that we heirs shouldn’t screw each other because that might complicate life when our time came to jointly rule. But he was a freaking idiot who didn’t even know that Gabrelle and Ronan used to fuck like rabbits whenever they got drunk. My footsteps echoed through the silent Lakehouse as I approached Gabrelle. The weight of my newfound responsibilities bore down on me, intensifying my simmering anger. I paused, my eyes locked on Gabrelle’s peaceful form