Through Battle and Blades (The Wolf Queen #2) Read Online Sam Hall

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Wolf Queen Series by Sam Hall

Total pages in book: 170
Estimated words: 156470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 522(@300wpm)

Out of the frying pan and into the fire, they say. Well, I’m about to learn just how true that aphorism is.

First I have to meet a queen in hand to hand combat and hope I come out as the victor, because only one of us will walk away from the training grounds alive.
Second, I have to try and find a way to live with the fact that three of my four mates unwittingly betrayed me.
And then there’s the king, who’s looking me over with a speculative eye, and not just as his wife’s challenger.
But most of all, there’s the damn Reavers that are slowly gnawing at the edges of Strelae, killing people, burning fields, and all the while the capital keeps going about its business, as if there’s no threat looming on the horizon. Somehow, some way, the five of us have to get the king, the people admitting there’s a problem. Because if we leave our response too late, we may not even get a chance to fight back.
I dream over and over of a pack of wolves running across the earth, swallowing, tearing, chewing, everything in their path and I’m terrified that all of us will be next.



I gripped my swords tight in my hands. Too tight, Nordred would’ve said. When they sliced through the air, I wasn’t flowing with them, my muscles were clenched too hard, my heart beating too fast, but I couldn’t seem to stop. I shifted across the training room floor, hacking at everything that seemed to fight for space in my head.

As if I could just cut the memories out of there.


Dane talking to me in the marketplace on the way over to the temple, quietly informing me about power exchanges and how he wanted my surrender. But of course, I couldn’t hold onto that strange little moment that promised so much, but was yet to deliver. Rather than peel his clothing from him and reveal every inch of my prince, I had his nakedness thrust at me the moment I walked into our suite.

Slash, slash.

Malia lying there naked next to him.

I sucked in a breath at that mental image, it feeling like my swords’ blades were slicing through my own flesh, so I moved faster, trying to outrun the pain. I spun in a series of swift leaps, swords out, cutting through the air and the memory with it.

Weyland tipping my chin up, then feeding me his cock, that mocking smile faltering the moment I did. Him grabbing Axe’s weapon from the air to defend my honour against Kris. Plaiting his hair into braids on top of the tor in Bayard, then him, collapsed onto the bed, his hair a fallen flag of blond strands, spread across the pillow. And her, Leia, snuggled up into his side with well practised ease, her hand on his—

I was pushing myself harder, harder, and there was a danger to that. I wasn’t wielding practice weapons now, but real cold steel. They were hard, impervious, just like I wanted to be, viciously carving through the atmosphere in the room and everything that came with it.

Axe in the bath, holding me against his body, just cradling me there as he washed me clean. But then Axe snoring loud enough to wake the dead, the dark haired bitch from—

I stumbled then, all the momentum of my movements too hard to maintain, and that was bad. As I came abruptly back to the room, I realised something. I was moving too fast, the world was just a blur, because I’d wanted that. I didn’t want to see, hear, think, or feel. I just wanted to fucking fight. It’d taken everything I had to sheath my swords and walk out of the queen’s bedchamber. If I’d dispatched her then, as my soul screamed for me to do, it would be seen as murder.

People could kill each other with impunity, in Grania as well as Strelae, you just had to do it in the right way.

So I’d stalked across the town of Snowmere, running up the steps to the now quiet temple and into the Wolf Maiden’s training room and I’d gone through the motions, trying to lose myself in the savage music of my own body as we prepared for what we knew was coming.

The queen had orchestrated a sexual assault on my pack, on her own sons.

She’d made sure to do it on the night I took my first mate, hoping to drive a wedge between us.

She’d drugged them or cast some spell, making each man think the woman he was with was me.

But they weren’t.

Those girls, those greedy, misguided, stupid, bloody girls had been prepared to pose as me in the hope they’d at least get to fuck the princes, or better, have the men claim them as their mates and that’s what had my fangs aching in my mouth.