“Bloody Rowan,” Kassian snarls under his breath, the sharp edge in his voice cutting through the damp, cool air. The faint metallic scent of blood lingers in the room, mingling with the earthy smell of wood and the faint tang of old leather from the chair Kassian had kicked over earlier. My heart pounds in my chest, but that’s the least of my worries. His wolf’s eyes—blue? Since when? Last time I saw Fenrir, they were royal purple, like molten amethyst under the moonlight.Kassian’s wolf, Fenrir, is a stark contrast to Rowan’s Rune. Fenrir is larger, faster, stronger—an overwhelming force of raw power and ferocity that Rune, with his quieter, more agile presence, could never match. Yet, it isn’t just size or strength that sets them apart. It’s their eyes—those unmistakable marks of their deviance. Fenrir’s were a regal, commanding royal purple, while Rune’s shimmered a softer, almost ethereal lilac. Together, the Draven brothers were known for this rare and legendary trait. No shifter
Kassian tilts his head, his expression unreadable. “That’s what makes her perfect for you.” I add cautiously.The air grows tense, the only sound the faint creak of wood as he shifts his stance. “She’s human,” he deadpans, his voice flat, yet there’s a flicker of something behind it—doubt, perhaps, or disbelief. He looks at me with a bored expression, but his eyes betray the storm churning within him.“And I’m a fish,” I snap back, sarcasm dripping from my tone as I wave my hand in mock dismissal. He scoffs, a short, sharp sound, but I catch the faint twitch of his lips as though he’s fighting a smile.The tension breaks slightly, like a taut string slackening. “Look, Rowan,” I say, leaning forward, the chair groaning beneath me. “I’ll tell you this from firsthand experience. A true mate is a gift—rare, incredible, and something not everyone gets to have. You’ve been given this chance, her. So, tell me, how do you feel when you’re around her?”For a moment, his mask slips. His brows k
I take a deep breath, gathering my thoughts, and lean backward slightly. “Make her yours.”Kassian scoffs, the sound bitter and sharp. “And what about my identity as a werewolf? The fact that I’m not Ro—” His words cut off abruptly as he bites down on his bottom lip. His fists clench, and a low growl rumbles deep in his chest, vibrating through the air like distant thunder. He looks away, his gaze distant, his expression clouded with conflict.I wait, watching him carefully. The seconds stretch, his silence filling the room like a weight. Finally, he sinks back into the chair, the movement stiff and deliberate. “Even if it endangers her life?” he asks quietly, his voice carrying a note of resignation.“Life is a risk,” I reply softly, watching as he leans his head back against the chair, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. The faint light above casts shadows across his sharp features, highlighting the tension etched into every line of his face. I let the silence settle, hoping my words wil
Lynette’s POVI tap the bottom of my pen against my chin, the faint plastic click echoing in the stillness of my room. My legs sway lazily in the air, brushing against the soft, cool fabric of my sheets as I lie on my stomach. The warm glow of the bedside lamp casts a golden hue over the crumpled papers scattered haphazardly across my bed—lyric drafts and scribbles abandoned in creative frustration. On my laptop screen, Zalie mirrors my position, sprawled across her bed with a mischievous smile, her butterscotch hair spilling like ink across her pillow. Her room is no tidier than mine; sheets and notebooks are tossed around like the aftermath of a brainstorming storm.In the background of Zalie’s frame, Ivanna sits cross-legged on the edge of the bed, leaning heavily on a plastic table she’s clearly dragged into the scene for the sake of convenience. Her posture is casual but focused, one hand propping up her chin as she skims over notes. The subtle hum of life fills the shared spaces
“Oh, you little—!” I choke on my own breath, breaking into laughter so hard my sides ache. “It’s not like that! We’re not there yet!” I protest between gasps, tears prickling at the corners of my eyes.Ivanna just smirks knowingly, folding her arms as she leans back. She doesn’t need to say anything—her smug expression says it all. She knows exactly what’s going on, and she’s been waiting for the perfect moment to throw me off balance.Zalie collapses onto her bed, clutching her stomach as she laughs harder, and I can’t help but join her, the weight of my embarrassment dissolving into the infectious joy of the moment.“It’s really not like that,” I say softly, my voice tinged with shyness.“Mm-hm,” they chime in unison, their teasing smirks lighting up their faces. The room feels alive with their playful energy, a sharp contrast to the soft, cozy warmth that lingers from the blankets and faint jasmine and gardenia scent of fabric softener. I roll my eyes dramatically, stretching my ar
Kassian’s POVThe night sky stretches above me, a dark canvas speckled with faint stars. The crescent moon hangs weakly, its pale glow almost drowned by the vivid lights illuminating the mansion’s exterior. Strings of soft white, yellow, gold, pink, and lilac lights cast a dreamy haze over the grand facade, their glow reflecting off the neatly manicured garden below. The air hums with the constant chatter of crickets, their rhythmic song mingling with the occasional rustle of leaves as a gentle breeze passes through. The breeze carries a medley of floral scents, sweet and calming, from the meticulously arranged flowerbeds dotting the compound.But none of it compares to her.Lynette’s scent cuts through everything, rich and unmistakable. It’s as if she’s the embodiment of nature itself, her fragrance a symphony of fresh blooms and sunlit meadows. Sweet yet sharp, soothing yet overwhelming. It pulls me in like a tide, drowning out the world around me. Even here, standing on her porch,
I press the doorbell again, my thumb jamming down harder each time, the repetitive chime echoing in the still night air. I know she hears me. She has to. My persistence is a reminder that I’m still here, standing on her porch like a fool. At first, I think she’ll keep ignoring me, just as she has for the past hour. But then—faintly, almost too faintly to trust—my ears pick up the soft sound of her footsteps.My heart slams against my chest like a drumbeat, and a hopeful bliss surges through me, lighting up my senses like fireworks. Her scent grows stronger as she nears the door, flooding out from the small crack beneath it. It’s intoxicating—floral and sweet, like spring itself wrapped around my lungs. But with the hope comes a rush of anxiety that tightens its grip around my chest.What if she’s coming out just to slam the door in my face?What if she says something cruel?What if she despises me?The questions spiral uncontrollably, and my mind races to keep up with the dread clawin
Lynette’s POVThe color of his eyes is unmistakable, violet that pierces through souls, not amethysts catching the sun. I stare at his picture on the cover of the magazine, transfixed by those eyes, even though they look somewhere else. Perhaps it’s a trick of the camera, but I know those eyes and they do not belong to this man.“Miss?” A soft voice cuts through my thoughts. I look up to see a flight attendant smiling nervously. “Could you please fasten your seatbelt? We’ll be landing shortly.”“Oh, of course,” I reply, securing the belt and flashing her a polite smile.“If you need anything…” She lingers, smiling too broadly, her fingers tapping against her clipboard as if she’s unsure whether to stay or go.“I’m fine, thank you,” I reassure her, but she continues fidgeting, her eyes flitting between me and the magazine in my lap. For a moment, I wonder if she recognizes me—despite the dark glasses and pulled-back hair.Then, with a final flustered nod, she leaves. I turn my attention
I press the doorbell again, my thumb jamming down harder each time, the repetitive chime echoing in the still night air. I know she hears me. She has to. My persistence is a reminder that I’m still here, standing on her porch like a fool. At first, I think she’ll keep ignoring me, just as she has for the past hour. But then—faintly, almost too faintly to trust—my ears pick up the soft sound of her footsteps.My heart slams against my chest like a drumbeat, and a hopeful bliss surges through me, lighting up my senses like fireworks. Her scent grows stronger as she nears the door, flooding out from the small crack beneath it. It’s intoxicating—floral and sweet, like spring itself wrapped around my lungs. But with the hope comes a rush of anxiety that tightens its grip around my chest.What if she’s coming out just to slam the door in my face?What if she says something cruel?What if she despises me?The questions spiral uncontrollably, and my mind races to keep up with the dread clawin
Kassian’s POVThe night sky stretches above me, a dark canvas speckled with faint stars. The crescent moon hangs weakly, its pale glow almost drowned by the vivid lights illuminating the mansion’s exterior. Strings of soft white, yellow, gold, pink, and lilac lights cast a dreamy haze over the grand facade, their glow reflecting off the neatly manicured garden below. The air hums with the constant chatter of crickets, their rhythmic song mingling with the occasional rustle of leaves as a gentle breeze passes through. The breeze carries a medley of floral scents, sweet and calming, from the meticulously arranged flowerbeds dotting the compound.But none of it compares to her.Lynette’s scent cuts through everything, rich and unmistakable. It’s as if she’s the embodiment of nature itself, her fragrance a symphony of fresh blooms and sunlit meadows. Sweet yet sharp, soothing yet overwhelming. It pulls me in like a tide, drowning out the world around me. Even here, standing on her porch,
“Oh, you little—!” I choke on my own breath, breaking into laughter so hard my sides ache. “It’s not like that! We’re not there yet!” I protest between gasps, tears prickling at the corners of my eyes.Ivanna just smirks knowingly, folding her arms as she leans back. She doesn’t need to say anything—her smug expression says it all. She knows exactly what’s going on, and she’s been waiting for the perfect moment to throw me off balance.Zalie collapses onto her bed, clutching her stomach as she laughs harder, and I can’t help but join her, the weight of my embarrassment dissolving into the infectious joy of the moment.“It’s really not like that,” I say softly, my voice tinged with shyness.“Mm-hm,” they chime in unison, their teasing smirks lighting up their faces. The room feels alive with their playful energy, a sharp contrast to the soft, cozy warmth that lingers from the blankets and faint jasmine and gardenia scent of fabric softener. I roll my eyes dramatically, stretching my ar
Lynette’s POVI tap the bottom of my pen against my chin, the faint plastic click echoing in the stillness of my room. My legs sway lazily in the air, brushing against the soft, cool fabric of my sheets as I lie on my stomach. The warm glow of the bedside lamp casts a golden hue over the crumpled papers scattered haphazardly across my bed—lyric drafts and scribbles abandoned in creative frustration. On my laptop screen, Zalie mirrors my position, sprawled across her bed with a mischievous smile, her butterscotch hair spilling like ink across her pillow. Her room is no tidier than mine; sheets and notebooks are tossed around like the aftermath of a brainstorming storm.In the background of Zalie’s frame, Ivanna sits cross-legged on the edge of the bed, leaning heavily on a plastic table she’s clearly dragged into the scene for the sake of convenience. Her posture is casual but focused, one hand propping up her chin as she skims over notes. The subtle hum of life fills the shared spaces
I take a deep breath, gathering my thoughts, and lean backward slightly. “Make her yours.”Kassian scoffs, the sound bitter and sharp. “And what about my identity as a werewolf? The fact that I’m not Ro—” His words cut off abruptly as he bites down on his bottom lip. His fists clench, and a low growl rumbles deep in his chest, vibrating through the air like distant thunder. He looks away, his gaze distant, his expression clouded with conflict.I wait, watching him carefully. The seconds stretch, his silence filling the room like a weight. Finally, he sinks back into the chair, the movement stiff and deliberate. “Even if it endangers her life?” he asks quietly, his voice carrying a note of resignation.“Life is a risk,” I reply softly, watching as he leans his head back against the chair, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. The faint light above casts shadows across his sharp features, highlighting the tension etched into every line of his face. I let the silence settle, hoping my words wil
Kassian tilts his head, his expression unreadable. “That’s what makes her perfect for you.” I add cautiously.The air grows tense, the only sound the faint creak of wood as he shifts his stance. “She’s human,” he deadpans, his voice flat, yet there’s a flicker of something behind it—doubt, perhaps, or disbelief. He looks at me with a bored expression, but his eyes betray the storm churning within him.“And I’m a fish,” I snap back, sarcasm dripping from my tone as I wave my hand in mock dismissal. He scoffs, a short, sharp sound, but I catch the faint twitch of his lips as though he’s fighting a smile.The tension breaks slightly, like a taut string slackening. “Look, Rowan,” I say, leaning forward, the chair groaning beneath me. “I’ll tell you this from firsthand experience. A true mate is a gift—rare, incredible, and something not everyone gets to have. You’ve been given this chance, her. So, tell me, how do you feel when you’re around her?”For a moment, his mask slips. His brows k
“Bloody Rowan,” Kassian snarls under his breath, the sharp edge in his voice cutting through the damp, cool air. The faint metallic scent of blood lingers in the room, mingling with the earthy smell of wood and the faint tang of old leather from the chair Kassian had kicked over earlier. My heart pounds in my chest, but that’s the least of my worries. His wolf’s eyes—blue? Since when? Last time I saw Fenrir, they were royal purple, like molten amethyst under the moonlight.Kassian’s wolf, Fenrir, is a stark contrast to Rowan’s Rune. Fenrir is larger, faster, stronger—an overwhelming force of raw power and ferocity that Rune, with his quieter, more agile presence, could never match. Yet, it isn’t just size or strength that sets them apart. It’s their eyes—those unmistakable marks of their deviance. Fenrir’s were a regal, commanding royal purple, while Rune’s shimmered a softer, almost ethereal lilac. Together, the Draven brothers were known for this rare and legendary trait. No shifter
Lynette. Of course, it’s her.The realization lands heavily, though I can’t say it surprises me. It’s shocking, yes, but not unexpected. Anyone who had been paying attention could have guessed this was coming.Rowan’s obsession with her had always been suspicious, the way he watched her, talked about her. Once, he even mentioned he thought she might be his mate, but his stepmother had silenced him before he could say more. At the time, none of us could confirm it, not with Kassian missing and no tangible evidence to back up Rowan’s feelings.But now, with Kassian here and the mate bond undeniable, it all makes sense.“Damn,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair as I lean back in my chair. Thank the Moon Goddess the truth never came to light back then. If Kassian’s father had even suspected Lynette could be his son’s mate, he would have done everything in his power to destroy her—or worse, force Rowan to mark her.That’s how much that pathetic excuse for a father despises Kassian.
Oliver’s POVThe silence that follows Kassian’s confession is heavy, suffocating almost, wrapping around us like an unspoken weight. I press my lips into a thin line, my gaze fixed on him as disbelief and shock swirl in my chest. His words replay in my head like a broken record, each repetition hammering in the magnitude of what he just said. Kassian, of all people, has found his mate.And the poor, unfortunate woman? I can’t even begin to pity her.Kassian sits slouched in the chair across from me, his broad shoulders tense and his hands twitching against his knees. The faint scent of cinnamon, sage, and rosewood clings to the air around him, a smell that’s always been distinctly his but now seems sharper, almost frantic. His heartbeat echoes in the room, loud enough to join the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock, the two sounds merging into an almost oppressive cadence.“She’s…” he starts hesitantly, dragging a hand through his hair. The movement is nervous, jerky, so unlike the usu