The next morning, I make sure I’m at the breakfast table before Ezra arrives. After leaving Tristan, I wasn’t able to sleep. Dominic had returned to the house hours later, but he mostly stayed outside, at the front of the house and far away from me. Before the sun had even begun to peek over the horizon, I shower and dress, scrubbing Tristan’s scent from my skin. But it’s no use. Even now, I can still smell him. Tristan is right—Ezra is most certainly going to kill us once he finds out. Trying to ignore the butterflies in my gut, I focus on making breakfast. The eggs sizzle in the pan as I add in bits of cheese and sausage I’d found. Flipping the omelets over, I add some tomatoes and pepper, the scent of the food filling the room. The coffeemaker whirs, pouring a large cup just for me. When everything is done, I take my plate and cup to the dining room. Setting everything on the table, I go to the windows, throwing them wide open. And then I wait. It isn’t long before I hear the
I’m torn, my emotions a chaotic mess within me. I know I can’t stay behind with her. Not after what she did. Despite Ezra’s attempt at uncaring, I know otherwise. He’s hurt. Furious. As am I. But I have no right to be. Smelling the Shifter’s scent all over her…I’d held myself back, despite the fact that I’d wanted to claw his face off as much as Ezra had. Jealousy had twisted in my gut like a snake, rearing its ugly head before I could squash it to death. I had no right. Ezra, however, has every right. I can feel his anger as if it were a physical thing—dark and raging, crashing against my mind. It’s a wonder I was able to stop him at all. I could feel every single emotion rolling from him in hot waves of fury. If I hadn’t, both Octavia and her little pet would be dead by now. And all hope would have been lost. Following the scent of anger and bitterness, I head back to the house, sensing Ezra upstairs in his room. This surprises me. I would have thought he’d have taken
I’m grateful Madalynn stays. Taking the bandages from her hands, I kneel beside him. “You don’t have to be here, you know.” I glance over sharply. “Why are you here? Who even are you?” “I told you,” Madalynn replies. “I’m here to assist you. I just haven’t been around the past few days to give you time to get settled in. Clearly, you did just fine.” I ignore her, checking the bandages she’s already wrapped. They seem fine enough, though my experience with wrapping battle wounds is next to none. “So, if you’re here to assist me, then tell me what Dominic meant when he said it wasn’t his story to tell. I know you were listening.” “I was doing no such thing,” Madalynn sniffs. “But even if I did, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. Pack loyalty and all.” Right. She has no loyalty to me and I have no reason to trust her. My eyes focus on Tristan’s black eye. The swelling has gone down a bit, thanks to his healing, but it was going to hurt for the next few days. The cuts are probably alre
I wait until I hear her soft breathing before slipping out of the house knowing she’d most likely try to follow me once again. And I can’t have her doing that. Not tonight. Not when I needed a distraction. I make my way into the woods, following the same path as before. I stay human this time, though I know it’ll take longer. Tonight, I’m not in any hurry to get to the witch’s dwelling. The moon is hauntingly big tonight, its crescent hovering over the tips of the trees. Moonlight speckles the forest floor, the perfume of flowers and pine, earth and moss permeate the air. Despite its beauty…nothing can wipe the ghost of her touch from my skin. I want to forget—the scent of her filling my room, the softness of her skin beneath my hands, her lips…Shaking my head, I almost shift. The wolf would have simpler thoughts. Simpler feelings. Human feelings were too complex. Too much. They were intricate in ways the primal force of shifters wasn’t—as if God had decided humans needed so
The next morning, I startle awake. And scream. Madalynn’s golden eyes are just inches away, blinking as she moves to cover her ears. “Damn. Chill. It’s just me.” “Why the hell—How did you—” I scramble from the bed. “What the hell are you doing here?” “I told you I’d swing by today to take you into town.” Madalynn nods her head toward the window. Sunlight streams through the glass, illuminating the room in a hazy glow. “Crap. What time is it?” I bolt toward the bathroom, my stomach growling. I’m not about to miss a whole day of eating again just because I missed breakfast. “It’s fine. No breakfast this morning,” Madalynn replies dryly. “I’m not too sure Ezra wants to see you right now after yesterday. I’m surprised you survived the night.” I stare at her. “What do you mean? You said he wouldn’t hurt me.” “He wouldn’t,” she hesitates, “Normally. But nothing about this is normal, is it?” Studying her closely, I cross my arms. “How much do you know about…this?” “As much as
The weight of the situation presses down on me like a leaden blanket as I grip the steering wheel, each turn of the road a painful reminder of our predicament. Octavia lies beside me in the passenger seat, her usually vibrant presence reduced to a fragile figure, her breaths shallow and uneven. Every glance I steal at her sends a jolt of fear coursing through my veins, her stillness a haunting echo of the chaos that had engulfed us. How could I have let this happen? The urge to flee, to take her to the safety of our own territory, claws at the edges of my mind. She’d be safe there. Protected. Far away from these monsters. But reason is too hard for me to ignore; we are but mice in the claws of a lion. Our escape would be futile, our capture inevitable. Or rather, her parents would return her on a silver platter if it meant winning this war. With a heavy heart, I direct the car towards the looming gates of the estate, each inch bringing us closer to a fate I dread to eventually face.
A Wyre’s bite is lethal. You either die or turn into a monster. Your spirit animal is ripped apart, shredded, and molded into something…wilder. More dangerous. But a Wyre’s claws are just as painful. I know I’m in a bed, warm covers wrapped around my shivering body, but I’m not fully aware of what’s going on. There are voices that come and go, though the words are too muffled for me to make any sense of them. Rough hands wipe a cold cloth across my forehead, the chill jarring and uncomfortable. Heat blazes through me, sending me deeper into the shadows. “…who was it?” “I didn’t see—” “You were supposed to be watching out…” The voices fall silent. I can’t make sense of who’s who. Each one blends together, melting as one and grating through my mind. The shadows twist around me, my stomach churning as if I’m free-falling through the blackness. It’s all I can do to try and stay somewhat conscious. “If anything happens to her, you will regret this.” A snarl, low and chilling. The
The night engulfs the forest in a suffocating embrace as I navigate through the twisting paths, every rustle of leaves and whisper of wind amplifying the weight of my thoughts. Thoughts of the princess gnaw at my insides, leaving me with a churning sense of unease that refuses to dissipate. She wasn’t the willfully ignorant Princess I’d believed her to be. She is as much of a pawn in this game as we are. Octavia knows next to nothing about this war—this curse. Not many knew the true reason behind our history, but then again, it wasn’t as if any Shifter leader had ever cared enough to find out in the first place. They’d chosen to remain blissfully unaware as they sat behind their guarded walls. She, on the other hand, did not have any choice at all. A part of me wants to tell her the truth, despite its dangers, but my protective side wins out time and time again. If Octavia knows, I’m not sure I’d be able to protect Ezra from the witch’s wrath. Goddess only knows what that crazy
As I lay in the dimly lit room, my thoughts drifted back to the night of the Marking ritual with Octavia. The memory flooded my mind, vivid and intense, like a scene from a dream I couldn't quite shake. She had been radiant, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the trees, her eyes alight with an inner fire that seemed to consume everything in its path. In that moment, she had been the epitome of beauty, a vision that stole the breath from my lungs and left me reeling in her wake. And yet, it wasn't just her physical appearance that had captivated me—it was something deeper, something primal and instinctual that defied explanation. From the moment I laid eyes on her, there had been an undeniable pull, a magnetic force that drew me to her like a moth to a flame. I had tried to resist it, to deny the feelings that surged within me, but in the end, it was futile. The bond between us was stronger than any force in the universe, an unbreakable tether that bound our souls
He bit me. The words echo in my head, over and over again. I stumble from the bed, the sheets twisting around my bare legs. The Mark burns against my skin, flaring with each fluttering beat of my heart. I hadn’t noticed the pain before. I was too distracted. Too focused on Ezra than anything else. But now? Now I feel it all. He bit me. He bit me. He bit me. Gasping, I stumble toward the door, needing to get out of there. To get to the forest and make sure I still had…me. How did this even work? Did the poison spread slowly? Did it kill my wolf right away? Would I be just as cursed as the Wyres…forever? Had that been his plan all along? It can’t be. He needs me alive and not all Shifters make it through the transformation. It’s excruciatingly painful, and only the strong survive. Only the strongest make it. I know what happens when a Shifter is bitten—my parents made sure I knew that much about our enemies. They used to tell me about it whenever I misbehaved, warning me that I
With wolf’s bane coursing through my veins, I stumble from my room and into the hallway, my vision swimming and my muscles aching with every step. The poison burns like fire, consuming me from the inside out, and yet I press on, driven by a singular purpose. I needed to get away from her. Something was happening—something I knew had nothing to do with the Mark. My vision blackens at the edges, my legs weakening as I lean heavily against the door. Dominic is there, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of my agony. As if he had been waiting for me, his hand reaches out to catch me before I can fall, his touch a lifeline in the darkness that threatens to engulf me. Without a word, he guides me down to the basement, the cool stone walls closing in around us like a protective cocoon. With every step I take, the pain of the wolf’s bane coursing through my veins intensifies, a relentless torment that threatens to overwhelm me. Each breath is a struggle, each heartbeat a reminder of
“The Mark symbolizes the permanent reminder of this commitment and their union with the Moon Goddess’s blessing.” The elder turns to Ezra, giving him a slight nod. “You may now Mark your mate.” I bite back a scream as Ezra’s fingers dig into my waist. He yanks me toward him, going for my shoulder. Pain sears through me when his canines pierce my skin, warmth blooming from the wound. I can feel my blood trickle down my arm, staining the fabric of my dress. His lips burn into my shoulder, so violent, so different from the kiss that it causes me to choke on my fear. When he pulls away, his mouth is smeared with my blood, streaking down his chin and turning the white of his shirt as bloody as my gown. Something like surprise crosses his eyes as he wipes his mouth. The Wyres go deadly silent. Behind him, Dominic’s eyes go wide, something like pain flickering beneath the gold of his irises. No one says a word. Ezra whips toward the Wyres, a growl in his throat. It’s a warning, but I
I’m half tempted to rip this dress off and take my chances with the wild forest that surrounds this god-forsaken town. But the Alpha’s warning still rings in my ears, slicing up and down my spine until my stomach lurches in protest. I might actually be sick in this dress. Which might not be a bad idea. Knowing Ezra, however, a ruined dress wouldn’t stop him from forcing me down that aisle. “Stop moving,” Madalynn growls, pins tucked between her teeth. It’s the morning of the wedding and she’s finishing up the last touches of the dress. When she’d told me she’d actually sewn it herself, I was both impressed and wary. It’s no Vivienne Westwood, but it isn’t terrible, either. White leaves and vines creep up from my waist, swirling over my breasts to the edges of my shoulders. My chest is bare, the dress only just hanging on by the swooping, floor-length bell sleeves and low-cut back. The flowers sprout from the top of my thigh into airy gauze, revealing just a hint of my skin beneath.
The night drags on, the darkness of my chambers enveloping me like a suffocating embrace. Above, Octavia's restless movements echo through the floorboards, each sound a reminder of the forbidden desire that rages within me. I lie there, my senses attuned to every rustle of sheets, every soft sigh that escapes her lips. Each sound ignites a fire within me, a hunger that burns with an intensity I can no longer deny. I know I shouldn't want her. Octavia belongs to another, my prince, my best friend. To even entertain such thoughts is a betrayal of the highest order. But the heart knows no allegiance, and mine is torn between loyalty and longing. It has been a constant struggle, keeping Octavia at arm's length, denying the yearning that simmers beneath the surface. But tonight, as she sleeps just a floor above me, the temptation is too great to resist.I close my eyes, trying to block out the images that threaten to consume me. But try as I might, I cannot silence the voice that whisper
Two weeks fly by when you dread its arrival. It probably would have gone a hell of a lot faster if I’d actually been the one planning my own wedding. Fortunately, I’m not, though I’m still bitter about it. I guess I should be thankful to the Alpha for letting Madalynn and Dominic plan the wedding themselves rather than forcing it on me. It at least made the time go by somewhat slower. But not slow enough. Tomorrow, my family will be arriving. Tomorrow night, I’ll be married. And I look forward to none of those events. The night before one’s wedding is supposed to be filled with anxiety, yes, but good anxiety. Instead, my stomach writhes with fear and worry, twisting and knotting together until I feel sick. Dominic had my room fixed up last week as an unwelcome surprise, so now I sit in front of my vanity mirror, trying not to throw up in the gold trash bin beside the desk. I’m wearing my comfort pajamas; sweats and a heavy wool sweatshirt that makes me feel like I’m wrapped in clou
As the night cloaked the world outside my prison, I sat alone with my thoughts, seeking solace in the silence. The events of the day replayed in my mind like a haunting melody, each note a reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows of the Wyre's territory. But the tranquility shattered when the door creaked open, and Octavia slipped inside like a wraith, her presence both unexpected and unwelcome. I couldn't help but tense at her arrival, my worries for her safety clawing at the edges of my mind. She crept across the floor, hesitating just an arm’s length away. Her face bore the remnants of fear and exhaustion, her features drawn tight with tension. The memory of her recent attack hung heavy in the air, a bitter reminder of the dangers that lurked beyond the safety of our walls. "Tristan," she breathed, her voice a mere whisper in the darkness. I rose to meet her, my concern etched into every line of my face. "Octavia, are you alright? You shouldn’t be up. You should be re
Breakfast the next morning is tense to say the least. I make it down in time, though Ezra is already in his usual spot, a cup of coffee steaming beside various manila folders and papers. He doesn’t look up when I enter, instead reading over a list of some sort. From the quick glance I get over his shoulder, I see it’s some type of report. “Good morning, Octavia,” Ezra says coldly, setting the paper back into a folder before snapping it shut. He seems to be in a darker mood than normal. I get my own cup of coffee, taking my time. He’s still there when I finally take a seat at the table. Dark, golden eyes study me from across the room, his lips pressed into a thin line. Fingers tap heavily atop the table, a thudding rhythm that slowly grates on my nerves. “Is something wrong?” I finally ask. Dominic sweeps into the room then, actively avoiding my gaze. He bends low over Ezra’s shoulders, whispering in his ear. I only catch a few words, though they don’t make sense. My coffee sits f