About Wolfpack:
Orfeus has always loved grand gestures. And what could be grander than risking her life to gain entry to the fabled Cloud Forest to find one of humanity’s greatest losses and make a gift of it to her beloved? But the cost proves higher than she could have ever imagined and now she is on the run, navigating a whole new world of danger with few allies and even fewer friends. Arcon, the Cloud Forest’s mechanized guardian, is determined to track her down, even if it means destroying everything in their way. Even if it means convincing Jean, a traumatized young trans man escaping a cult, to host them in order to complete their mission. Can Orfeus figure out a way out of the mess that she’s created and work with the Order of the Vengeful Wild and their allies to fix what she’s broken before their world is pushed once more to the brink?
Excerpt:
The thing with Faolan was a
mistake. Orfeus was well aware of that.
He had kissed her once, tender and yearning, after they’d taken down
Significance O’Hallow. That time, Faol kissed like he’d never kissed anyone
before and never wanted to. Like Orfeus was the first and only thing that
mattered.
And then that night Luga died, thrusting the sword into his own chest when it became clear he couldn’t convince Orfeus to kill him in the proper brutal Order way. Luga the old Leader, Luga who was practically Faolan’s father. Orfeus let him die and let the Order think she’d killed him, so she could become Leader. How else could she try to make something good of this pack of monsters?
Orfeus would never forget the look on Faol’s face when he saw. That sight, his eyes wide and mouth dropping open and the slow step back: surely some of the old poems and songs she’d memorised had to have been erased from her mind for her to be able to still bring that moment back, again and again, in such perfect clarity.
Two months later, they strode the halls hating each other, Faolan following Orfeus’s orders and glaring holes into her back, until almost inevitably they fell into bed.
It was a selfish thing Orfeus was doing. Aside from his hatred, Faol was the most loyal hunter she had. It had been Faol who initi- ated it, yet still this relationship was uneven. Unhealthy. Did Faolan know she could say no whenever she wished? Orfeus hoped so but couldn’t be sure. Couldn’t quite be sure, and yet still she dove into his arms and took any comfort she could against the harsh world. Hungry and greedy, she had no plans to stop.
And here they were.
Faol’s quarters were smaller than Orfeus’s, but larger than the little cupboard Orfeus had when she first arrived. Three rooms, the first a place to sit and eat or think, with a wolf pelt hung up on the wall next to Faol’s fearsome collection of weapons. Orfeus was familiar with this room by now, but more familiar with his bed.
She tugged him there now, peeling off his workout shirt as Faolan, brow furrowed in concentration, struggled with the straps of Orfeus’s light armour.
“The mission was awful,” Orfeus said. They were always awful, either dreary with routine or stained with blood. She stepped back to give him room and Faolan got the straps free: her armour fell to the floor, breastplate and then the segments from her arms, legs and shoulders. Orfeus stepped over it to kiss Faol again, pushing her more gently against the wall, tugging at her hair. It was nearly long enough to tie back now. “People are awful.” Orfeus kissed her neck, tasting the sweat there. “What we do is awful, and every- thing is awful, and that’s all there is.”
“All?” Faol said, the puff of his breath light against her hair. Faol stepped to one side, and Orfeus backed away and let her.
Faolan picked up the plant Orfeus had left by the door and settled it on a bench. She filled a bottle in the washroom and watered it.
Orfeus watched this, charmed. “And you told me you were a poor gardener.”
His shoulders went rigid for a moment, and he cast her a wide- open look, face soft with surprise. “You remember that?”
Orfeus pressed her hands to her thighs and shrugged. Think of something. “That was back when I was still terrified of you and how easily you killed,” she said, which wasn’t untrue. Faolan gripped the bottle of water tightly enough it let out a sad little wheeze of air.
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About Rem Wigmore:
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