Wrestling With Werewolves (HAVEN EVER AFTER #5) by Hazel Mack EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Hazel Mack
- Language: English
- Genre: Paranormal / Sci-Fi
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 3 MB
- Price: Free
LOLA
The cramped dressing room vibrates with the drums and bass playing
onstage. Nerves flutter in my belly, my skin peppered with goose
bumps. My guard will be here soon—I hope that this time they’re
slow enough that I get at least a song or two with my friend Leo’s band
before Nuñez forces me home to Santa Alaya.
Standing in front of the ramshackle room’s only mirror, I remove the
tiny gold crown from my curly black hair, tucking it into a hidden pocket in
my midnight leather corset. Reaching into my bag, I pull out my favorite
extra—a gauzy, translucent bustier-style skirt. The front is a simple belt,
then fabric drapes in increasingly big swathes to the floor. From the front,
the audience will see my black leather leggings and the belt’s gauzy green
snaps. But from the side, it’ll trail long like I’m some human princess from
a storybook.
It’s beautiful.
A brisk knock at the door announces the stage manager’s arrival. When
I open the door, he dips his head respectfully, looking at me from beneath
dark brows. “¿Lista, Princesa?”
I rub his shoulder thankfully. “Ready as I’ll ever be. I can’t thank you
enough for arranging this.”
Luís, whom I’ve known my entire life, grins at me. “I’m fully expecting
a call from your father, so I’m going on vacation for a month right after
your set.”
I laugh loudly at that. “Good idea.” I don’t know what my papá will do
to me for breaking his rules so thoroughly—again—but I imagine I’ll be
locked in the castle until I’m old and gray. It can’t get much worse, though.
I already feel like I’m locked in a gilded prison whenever I’m home.
The steady drumbeat changes, and a solo guitar begins a refrain I’ve
always found hauntingly beautiful—it’s from a human band called
Transcendency.
“That’s your cue,” Luís says, lifting his head. “Knock ’em dead,
Princesa.”
Grinning, I spin into the room and grab my turquoise electric guitar. I
slip the black strap carefully over my huge hair and wink at myself in the
mirror.
“You got this, girl,” I mutter as nerves flutter impatiently in my belly.
They’ll disappear the moment I step onto that stage, though. Being in front
of people, immersed in the music, it’s heaven on earth.
I scan my face in the mirror, grinning. Dark makeup lines my nearly
black eyes. Between the see-through belt-skirt and all the leather, I do look
like a princess. A badass rocker princess.
I fucking love it. This is me, in my element, shoving aside shifter court
politics and all the other bullshit that comes with being the sitting king’s
only daughter.
Turning, I follow Luís out of the dressing room and down a cramped,
smelly hallway toward the stage. The scents of stage smoke and hundreds
of gathered monsters send a thrill through me, my wolf rising up from my
consciousness. Of the two of us, she’s more stoic, but even she loves it
when I play.
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