The next morning, I make sure I’m downstairs for breakfast on time. But Ezra isn’t in his usual spot. Instead, Dominic sits at the table with Tristan, eyeing him from across the table. Seeing Tristan in the house, and the lack of the Alpha’s presence is startling. “He’s not here?” I ask. The words slip out before I can stop them. “No,” Dominic replies without taking his eyes off Tristan. Tristan glares back at him, their cups of coffee completely forgotten. “Why?” I make my way into the kitchen, pouring myself a cup of heaven. The heavy scent of the roasted beans fills the air as I pour, adding a touch of milk and some creamer from the fridge. “He has to deal with…trouble.” I pause in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. “What trouble?” Dominic tears his gaze away from Tristan, shooting me a look. “Oh. That trouble.” I’d almost forgotten about yesterday. After leaving Dominic outside, I’d fallen asleep within seconds. The alarm on my phone had barely woken me
The cool glow of my computer screen casts a pale light across the dimly lit room as I review the latest reports from our border patrols. My fingers dance across the keyboard, navigating through the streams of data with practiced ease. I can sense Octavia asleep upstairs, her gentle breathing a small comfort. Madalynn had assured me that the wound inflicted on her in town would heal as long as she had enough rest. Though convincing the Princess of that took more patience than Madalynn had expected. I almost smile at the thought before catching myself. Tonight had been nothing to smile about. I’d tracked down the Wyre who’d hurt her easily enough. He wouldn’t be hurting Octavia—or anyone—ever again. The memory of the confrontation flashes vividly in my mind—the fury burning in my veins as I confronted the Wyre responsible for Octavia's pain. His cowardice crumbled beneath the weight of my rage, his pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears. In the end, justice was served, but the satisfac
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
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
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
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
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 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
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