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 will
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 arm
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 clawing
Lynette is startled by the speed—and probably the desperation—in my voice and face. She hesitates, her hand gripping the edge of the doorframe, giving me just enough of a chance to wedge myself between the door and the frame.“So you see… um… I didn’t come here without a purpose.” My voice comes out rushed, almost frantic. “There’s an absolutely valuable reason why I’m here.” I hesitate, scrambling for something, anything, that sounds reasonable. “So, please, calm down and let me explain… I mean, talk! Yes! Haha.”What the hell am I doing?What am I? A damn teenage boy?“Dammit,” I mutter under my breath, dragging a hand roughly through my hair. The strands stick to my fingers, damp with sweat. My heart is pounding, not just from the mortifying awkwardness of this situation, but from everything she is. It’s too much. She’s too close, too intoxicating, too ‘her’.The reasons why my thoughts are tangled, my breathing shallow, and my control splintering pile up like a relentless avalanche
The door clicks shut behind me, but my focus is elsewhere—on her back as she moves ahead, leading me into the living room. The silk robe clings to her every curve, the hem swaying just enough to draw my eyes lower. My gaze drifts, helpless against the magnetic pull of her figure, and I catch myself staring at the gentle curve of her ass.My wolf stirs, growling softly in the back of my mind. “Control yourself.” he warns.The living room is cozy, dimly lit by warm lights that reflect off the water walls, casting shimmering patterns on the walls. Fishes swim lazily behind the glass, their movements graceful and hypnotic, but I can’t bring myself to admire them. My attention keeps snapping back to her, to the way her body moves, the way her presence dominates the room.I sink onto the edge of the couch, my shoulders tense, feeling out of place yet strangely comforted by the intimacy of her space. My hands rest on my thighs, fingers drumming nervously against the fabric of my jeans. She r
I glance at her from the corner of my eye, my gaze snagging on the curve of her cheek as the faint light dances over her features. I know she’s aware of me watching her; it’s impossible she wouldn’t notice. But she says nothing, choosing instead to focus on the movie. Her silence only amplifies my awareness of her—the soft sound of her breath, the occasional shift of her posture, the subtle, teasing brush of her hand against mine as we occasionally reach for the bowl at the same time.“You’ve been staring at me for the last thirty minutes,” Lynette says suddenly, her voice breaking through the fog of my thoughts.I snap my head toward her, my mouth opening to deny it, but the knowing look in her green eyes stops me. She’s smiling, playful yet sharp, and I realize she’s letting me off the hook.“The movie’s over there, you know.” She gestures toward the screen, her tone light.“Right.” I nod stiffly, forcing my gaze forward.For a while, I focus on keeping my breathing steady. The fain
Across the room, Kassian remains unmoving. His mind is a haze of static, his thoughts tangled in a thick web of denial. He watches them press their hands against Lynette’s lifeless form, listens to their frantic attempts to revive her, but none of it registers. She’s not dead.She’s just… sleeping.She’ll wake up soon. She has to.Something deep inside him pulses, hollow and aching. The mate bond—the once-constant hum of connection—has been severed, leaving behind nothing but a vast, unbearable emptiness. He feels it, deep in his soul, but he refuses to acknowledge it. Because if he does—if he admits, even for a second, that she’s really gone—he won’t survive it.His hands twitch at his sides, clenching and unclenching as his thoughts spiral.How do I live without her?How does he wake up every morning without hearing her voice? Who will roll their eyes at his brooding and call him dramatic? Who will compliment his cooking but vehemently love it more than anything? Who will read him li
A quiet hum drifts through the dimly lit office as Oliver methodically sorts through scattered documents, the faint scent of paper mixing with the lingering traces of Kassian’s scent. Outside, the day is still, save for the distant chirping of birds, a stark contrast to the turmoil that has haunted this place for days.He steals a glance at Kassian, sprawled across the worn leather couch, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. There’s something almost childlike about the way he sleeps—completely at ease, his face unburdened by the grief and rage that have shadowed him since Ryker’s death. Oliver can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen his cousin sleep, and never once has it been so peaceful. Before, it was always fitful, his brows drawn tight, his body tense, as if even in slumber, he fought unseen battles. But now… now he’s at rest.A warmth spreads through Oliver’s chest, satisfaction curling around his heart like a protective shield. Justice has been ser
It’s a good day to die.The thought crashes into my mind, and I immediately regret it. Worst possible time for jokes, Lynette.My breath is shallow, my pulse hammering against my ribs like a desperate prisoner trying to escape a cage. The scent of damp earth and pine needles fills my nose, and it almost feels as if I can perceive my own fear.I step back cautiously, my slippers sinking slightly into the forest floor, soft moss cushioning the impact. My eyes dart over my shoulder, scanning for any possible escape routes. Nothing. Thick trees enclose the area like silent spectators, their gnarled branches twisting above, casting jagged shadows in the fading sunlight. Even if I did run, what were the odds I’d make it?Slim. No—nonexistent.Panic grips me with icy fingers, tightening around my throat. My mind screams for a way out, some way to call for help. If only I had a mental link like Kassian did with his pack—something, anything to let him know I’m in danger. But I don’t. The best
The quiet hum of the AC fills the office, cold air whispering through the space, blending with the faint rush of wind from the open window. Somewhere in the background, the coffee machine lets out a low gurgle. The silence is heavy. Oppressive. It settles around us like a second skin, thick enough to suffocate.I want to say something. I want to fix this. But the words lodge themselves in my throat, tangled between the fear of hurting him and the desperation to pull him back before it’s too late.Then, warmth.A gentle pressure over my fidgeting hands, stopping their restless movements.I jolt slightly at the unexpected contact, my heart skipping a beat. Kassian’s hands are warm—so warm—completely engulfing mine as if he’s trying to ground himself through me.I look up at him, breath catching at the raw emotion on his face. The sadness, the exhaustion, the fear—it’s all there, painted across his features in shades of grief and torment. His amethyst eyes, dulled with sorrow, meet mine,
The hallway outside Kassian’s office is eerily quiet, the usual buzz of the pack absent. The air smells of old parchment, ink, and something heavier—like exhaustion and fading traces of stress-induced sweat. I take a deep breath, steadying myself before rapping my knuckles against the door.“Knock knock, it’s me!” I call out, my voice deliberately cheerful, a singsong lilt added for effect. A wide smile stretches across my lips, but inside, I’m anything but lighthearted.It has been over a week since Kassian defeated his father, and everything has changed. The pack. The leadership. Him.At the pack’s request, he revealed the truth—the real Rowan Draven had died long ago, and Kassian had been living in his place. Doubts lingered, of course. Murmurs of suspicion slithered through the media, but the CCTV footage he once hid sealed the truth. Footage proving he hadn’t been anywhere near Rowan’s death. That was the easy part. After all, back then, Kassian had dyed his hair black.I didn’t
The arena is silent, save for the rhythmic pounding of hearts, the quiet inhales and exhales of tense bodies, and the occasional nervous shuffling of feet against the stone seating. A warm breeze drifts through the vast space, whispering through the ears of the gathered pack members, carrying the distant cries of birds and rustling leaves from beyond the towering arena walls. The scent of smoky vanilla and cream—the distinct fragrance that unites them as one—lingers in the air, blending with the individual scents of sweat, fear, and anticipation. The heavy mix of emotions clogs the atmosphere, suffocating to anyone with heightened senses.Yet, among the hundreds of anxious onlookers, one figure remains entirely unaffected.At the highest point of the arena, where the view is unobstructed, Lynette lounges with effortless ease, legs crossed as she leisurely munches on the cookies in the large bowl at her feet. Sunlight spills through the glass roof above, catching the frosty strands of
The air in the pack arena is thick with tension, the faint strong scents of emotions mingling with the crisp bite of evening air. The weight of everything that has happened in the past hour presses against my chest like a boulder, suffocating, heavy.Vivian made Lynette’s demand clear, and then everything spiraled. My father—weak but still an alpha—exploded in fury, his roar shaking the very foundation of the hall. The guards tried to restrain him, but it was useless. His presence alone is enough to make seasoned warriors hesitate, their instincts screaming at them to submit. It was only when Vivian, despite her own exhaustion, used her magic to subdue him that he finally fell. But at a cost—her body shook violently, blood spilling from her lips as the spell took its toll.Then the truth unraveled, piece by piece, in the most horrifying way.I had always wondered why a powerful witch like Vivian tolerated a man like my father. Now, I know. And the knowledge is sickening.Noelle walked
My mother stared back with wide, horrified eyes. Her lips parted, trembling, unable to form words. Then the scream that tore through her throat, so raw it sent a shiver down my spine even now, years later.She lost her mind in that moment. And in that moment, she lost everything.The gleam of the blade was the last thing I saw before she pressed it to her throat and dragged it across her skin.I remember the gurgling sound, the way the air filled with the thick, metallic scent of blood. I remember her collapsing, her body convulsing. The life draining from her eyes.And I remember him. Ryker, my so-called father, standing there. Watching.He rolled his eyes.And then he turned his back and walked away.He never turned back when I ran after him, my screams tearing from my throat as I begged him to save her. He never cared.And neither did anyone else.The pack didn’t mourn the loss of their unkind and selfish Luna. No one spoke of the pain she endured. No one cared about the woman she
Lynette’s fingers tighten around my forearm before she lets go, stepping forward. My muscles tense instinctively, my gut twisting. What is she doing?“Lynette,” I murmur, leaning toward her, my voice low, questioning. Her sudden change of topic throws me off, her choice of words even more so. She knows what she’s doing—she has to. But why?She doesn’t look at me, but I see the way her shoulders rise and fall in a deep breath. “Trust me.”My throat bobs, and I force myself to nod, even as unease prickles beneath my skin.Then, she shifts her attention back to my father, her head tilting. “You know,” she begins, almost casually, “I thought my father was the worst man alive. But I stand corrected. Turns out, he’s top-tier garbage, while you, Ryker, take the spot of F-rank waste.”A beat of silence. Then—a strangled noise from the crowd. I hear the sharp inhale of people struggling to keep their composure, the barely stifled coughs that are most certainly hiding laughter. Even the guards