Turned by Kessie Carroll

Prologue: The
Beast
     
    The werewolf's stare sent Bernard fumbling
for a weapon he did not carry.
     
    Thunder rumbled overhead and echoed off the
thirty-foot stone wall. It stretched for miles to the north and
south, cutting the land of Grayton off from its neighbors, but
protecting them from the monsters outside.
     
    A pen of felled tree trunks was built against
the wall, and it contained a single werewolf. It snarled at them
all, but it stared at Bernard with particular loathing. The chains
on its limbs did not reassure him.
     
    Bernard cleared his throat. "Archmage, why
are we here?"
     
    Archmage Allard had summoned the Mage Guild
to witness his magic demonstration. He was a tall gray-bearded
mage, but moved with the energy of a man half his age. The other
adepts clustered outside the wooden enclosure, and somehow Bernard
was at the front. He'd never been so aware of his five-foot height
and lack of muscle.
     
    Allard opened a gate and entered the pen. The
wolf lunged at him, struck the end of its chains and grunted.
Allard pointed his staff at the beast and green light glowed at its
tip. The wolf shuddered and sank to its haunches.
     
    "See?" Allard beamed. "It's completely under
my control."
     
    The mages stared at Allard and his wolf, and
exchanged wide-eyed glances. Bernard shook his head. If he
neglected to question the plan's sanity, no one would. "It's
amazing, Allard. And yet, how long do you expect to control it?
It's fighting you."
     
    The werewolf trembled and whined. Saliva
dribbled from its lower jaw.
     
    Allard shot Bernard a fierce look from under
black eyebrows not yet gone gray. "No matter how much they fight,
they can't reverse their nature. My spells control them through
their own pack instincts. They can't resist the Alpha Staff."
     
    Bernard turned to Kryn, the potion master.
"What do you think, sir?"
     
    Kryn was a dark-haired, dark-skinned man of
Southern descent, with a build more becoming a wrestler than a
potion master. "We have no choice. The goblins draw closer every
day. I say we present the werewolves to King Grayton."
     
    The other mages nodded assent.
     
    Bernard bit his tongue, but warning screamed
in his heart.
     
    Allard pointed his staff at the ground. The
werewolf lay on its belly, never taking its eyes off the humans.
"Excellent! Once the king approves, I'll construct an army of
obedient wolves. The goblins will fall like wheat before a
scythe."
     
    Bernard wished he'd not eaten that last mince
pie at lunch. Fighting monsters with monsters--what did that make
the humans controlling the beasts? The land of Grayton might be
saved ... but at what cost to its humanity?
     
    He hurried away from the meeting, another
sort of dread settling over him. In a fortnight he'd be married to
Lady Charlotte Brighton. Most likely, he'd only ever see the
werewolves again in the newspapers.
     

Chapter 1. The Marriage
     
    Bernard resisted the urge to loosen his
collar. He and Lady Charlotte sat together on a sofa, a polite
distance between them. Her hair and perfume should be intoxicating
to him, since they were courting. Instead, he fought nausea. The
pain of his twisting stomach made this more punishing than the
rack.
     
    Charlotte’s fine clothes and jewelry were
befitting the Brighton family name. And when she came into her
inheritance, luxurious Halfmoon Manor would become hers…and her
husband's. The spacious grounds and pleasing view far outclassed
Bernard’s Preston house. Any man would enjoy living here.
     
    But what of the stranger he was marrying? He
glanced at his aunt, who pretended to read in a chair across the
room. She had reared him since his parents had fallen to a fever
when he was six. Now his aunt sought to marry him off and see him
beget an heir as quickly as possible.
     
    It was a pity this was only the second time
he'd laid eyes on Charlotte Brighton. She was taller than he, and
her carefully arranged golden curls made her seem like a queen or a
goddess,