Life is very different in Volare these days. Leo is almost two. Wonderful in every way, his pouty lips and blue eyes making it almost impossible to tell him no. I flit between wondering what my mother would think of my own material efforts. Praying I make better choices than her. I still don’t know what the hell was on her mind when she died. Was it out of love for me or hatred of Elle? Staring at Leo, I will never understand how she stood by all those years in silence. It has taken some serious organising but tonight, finally everyone is going to be reunited. A celebration of friendship. Raphael and Robyn have been sorely missed. Almost eighteen months without any visits between us. Corbin had requested all bridges go up for our own safety for a period. He was attacked in an uprising in the centre of Pemberton. Touring a pack and hit in the chest with a cannonball. Quite how the fuck a group of rebels got hold of a cannon is something Raphael is furiously investigating. The nigh
Corbin is the first to arrive, urgency in his steely eyes. He and Ayr now share the dubious honour of matching neck scars. I imagine his lower chest is even more grisly after the attack on him “Is everything okay? It’s so fantastic to see you,” enjoying the sweep of his huge, iron-like hug. The sweet scent of warm baking is the only soft feature about this hardened leader. “When they set up a room for me to recover in, they found this. I thought you should have it,” withdrawing a thick envelope from his jacket. “It’s written by your mother.” I stare at the aged paper and wonder just what I will gain from reading her drunken rantings. “What made you bring this? She must have hundreds of letters, I know she kept a diary too.”“She addressed it to you. It’s the only one with your name on it. No diaries found.” "Go on, I’ll greet everyone else. It will only irritate you if you don’t read it now, " Ayr suggested "Corbin and I need to talk bridges," as the pair grinned. I took the letter
Four years isn’t enough time to get used to being hated. Eventually, an opportunity will come along to put things right. I still believe in that. Otherwise, what’s the point? During any rare opportunity to stand at the top of my cliff-top packhouse I inhale the fresh sea air and wonder how it went so wrong. I’ve stopped dreaming about leaping off the steep white ledge at least. Not that my bodyguard would give me the chance anyway. Even now, all it takes is someone to rush past wearing our royal colors of burnt orange and gold for me to be taken right back to four years ago. The night everything changed. My father, Alpha Kallio doted on me and my baby sister Elle. He tried to hide the weight of leadership behind his huge brown beard and soft, kindly eyes. He was everything. My world revolved around his guidance. I was so desperately ready to prove to the world, to him, that I could be the Kallio Pack’s Luna. Elle had it a lot easier. She mainly spent it talking to our mother
Luna Sana, my mother, stared down at me. Her fleshy hands gripping the ends of her thrones arms. One of those hands had my sisters placed tightly on top. The room smelt of sweet violets, my sister had clearly been there for a while already. My mother’s eyes, cold and glossy, barely looked at me. On her left stood the head of the Elders. Advisors to the Alpha. They were meant to be the wisest, most trustworthy men in the pack. One of my first plans as Luna had been to disband them. To end the Elders judging every eighteen year old after their first shift. Deciding whether the mark branded on their skin meant they were fit to contribute to Kallio’s upper ranks. Elder Brent's gray, cool gaze met mine, his sneer already curling upwards. I’d only told Dominic of my plan to disband the crusty bastards. Had giddily confiding my plans to Dominic contributed to this disaster? In silence I waited, hands clasped in front of me while the guards shut the huge wooden doors and left me at my
Beta Cesar is shuffling his feet in the corner of the library. “You’re huffing again,” he mutters. “It’s annoying.” “You’re shuffling your feet. It’s equally annoying,” I reply archly, studying the parade of people below. The huge wooden drawbridge into our cliff packhouse is being decorated with orange banners and fire torches. An inferno just waiting to happen I think with a grimace. With his black, ragged mop of curls and jade green eyes Beta Cesar isn’t my friend. Or even an ally. We just trade barbs and get through the day. He hates his role just as much as I despise knowing he gives Elle a daily report. Except with me banished from every mindlink in the pack, I am dependent upon him for information. “How many are coming again?” I sigh, leaning against the locked wooden window frame. Elle has headed outside, standing on the drawbridge screaming at the servants who are trying to hang the twenty meter long banners down the length of the cliff face. “Think her banners are cr
From the second the drawbridge came into view I felt eyes on me. It’s unsettling. Prickling away. Left me expecting a sniper's bullet at any second. Staring up at the sheer white cliff face with its warren of blindingly white balconies, windows and nooks carved everywhere it’s a place of lost decadence. What can happen when a pack is allowed to grow in peace for generations. My packhouse is whichever building has enough bedrooms and hasn’t been set on fire in the past six months. So I should be used to being watched from the shadows. Initially, I thought the prickly heat came from Luna Elle. Undoubtedly beautiful, despite the slightly crooked nose. She is light and charming. Her figure elegantly displayed with her midnight blue gown. Captivating amber eyes and a winning smile. No issues so far. Almost perfect, beigely-compliant wife material. All manners and poise. Just as my Betas had suggested. I don’t feel crude thinking like that when I know she is sizing me up in exact
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Cesar grumbled, shutting the door behind me. “Don’t start, please,” I grumble, lying down on my bed, covering my face with my hands. “I don’t know why I let that happen.” My room was a sad affair. I was only allowed books and black clothes, curtains and bedding. Elle had insisted on my living space being appropriately somber. Morgue-chic I had once described it. “I’ll be the one getting shit for you being on the stairs. I’ll get absolutely crucified by Luna Elle,” Cesar continued, keeping his voice low and level. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think he’d spot me.” “You tell me all the time you’re not an idiot. Then you get caught watching on the stairs, honestly,” he sighs. “I’ve done it before.” Not at first, I spent the first year in complete bed-ridden denial and misery. “I don’t want to know Cassie,” he groaned. “I seriously don’t. Did I honestly hear you call him a vulture? That atrium just amplifies every sound. There won’t be a servant in here who
A rare smile breaks across my face, a thrill of excitement speeding up my pulse. I quickly tiptoe out of my room, leaving the door just ajar. The stone atrium is empty, all the guests sound asleep. I sprint up the stairs in just my stockinged feet, in too great a rush to bother with shoes. Racing up the last few steps I press open the final wooden doorway and feel my heart expand at the moonlit view. It’s just as stunning as I remember. Gazing wistfully from a window doesn’t compare to standing up here. The wind is fresh, cleansing. My skin tingles at the cold breeze and the scent of seasalt in the air. I can hear the waves breaking against the far end of the granite-backed cliffs. But I don’t want the sea tonight. Ahead of me was the land where the pack I was born to lead. It fans out into the darkness like rumpled black silk. That’s what I love to see. All the potential, the other cliffs and their carved houses jut out into the night sky, tall and imposing, but nothing reac
Corbin is the first to arrive, urgency in his steely eyes. He and Ayr now share the dubious honour of matching neck scars. I imagine his lower chest is even more grisly after the attack on him “Is everything okay? It’s so fantastic to see you,” enjoying the sweep of his huge, iron-like hug. The sweet scent of warm baking is the only soft feature about this hardened leader. “When they set up a room for me to recover in, they found this. I thought you should have it,” withdrawing a thick envelope from his jacket. “It’s written by your mother.” I stare at the aged paper and wonder just what I will gain from reading her drunken rantings. “What made you bring this? She must have hundreds of letters, I know she kept a diary too.”“She addressed it to you. It’s the only one with your name on it. No diaries found.” "Go on, I’ll greet everyone else. It will only irritate you if you don’t read it now, " Ayr suggested "Corbin and I need to talk bridges," as the pair grinned. I took the letter
Life is very different in Volare these days. Leo is almost two. Wonderful in every way, his pouty lips and blue eyes making it almost impossible to tell him no. I flit between wondering what my mother would think of my own material efforts. Praying I make better choices than her. I still don’t know what the hell was on her mind when she died. Was it out of love for me or hatred of Elle? Staring at Leo, I will never understand how she stood by all those years in silence. It has taken some serious organising but tonight, finally everyone is going to be reunited. A celebration of friendship. Raphael and Robyn have been sorely missed. Almost eighteen months without any visits between us. Corbin had requested all bridges go up for our own safety for a period. He was attacked in an uprising in the centre of Pemberton. Touring a pack and hit in the chest with a cannonball. Quite how the fuck a group of rebels got hold of a cannon is something Raphael is furiously investigating. The nigh
She’s dreamed of me? Even as my head spins in a frenzy of pure desire, I need to delve into that conversation more. Women are clearly my blind spot. No pun intended. She’s guiding me along the wooden wall, “I‘m staying in the packhouse, come on,” she breathes, and I’m so close to just being swept along. But this is serious. Flashes of Imelda cross my mind. “Jessica, Jessica, come on, what do you mean dreaming? What colour are your eyes?” as she drags me into the packhouse. Where I once snuck in order to shave in Ayr’s fancy bathroom. Her hand feels so tiny in mine. In fact, everything about her is petite. I’m almost stumbling, and I secretly love the way she doesn’t give a shit I can’t see. She’s taking me to her room regardless. “How about you just trust me?” she whispers before placing a kiss on my open chest. Shit that must be how tall she is. When she first kissed me, she must have been on her tiptoes. What the hell is this? “If you know who I am, I don’t…I’m not going to b
Jessica never appeared at dinner. It was a shame, I totally thought her and Marcus might hit it off, but there will be more opportunity. She’s got that daring confidence that I thought might spark his interest. When the lightning flashed and rain descended, everyone jumped in the packhouse. Ayr ran out to find Marcus. Check he hadn’t got caught in the storm and lost his bearings, but he was nowhere to be seen. His blue gauze was trodden into the mud by the packhouse door, though. “He’s not answering his link?” Ayr said, rubbing his chin. “If he wants us, he will,” Matthew answered steadily. “There’s a line of how much he’ll ask for.” Ayr reluctantly agreed, and the evening continued as planned. Drinks consumed, food eaten, I sat in our bed and watched Ayr as he stripped down. I know how long he stays awake at night reading to me. I also know how the instant he thinks I’m asleep he switches from pirate adventures to love sonnets. My dreams are warm, full of summer sun and happiness
The day I stop opening my eyes and searching for a flicker of dawn will be when my wolf stops trying too. Not once did I stop believing. Now, finally, after almost five years, something has happened. Since Ayr told me their silver wolf has vanished from the heavens, the constant blackness has started to part. There are shadows and hints of grey and white in my peripheral vision. I can’t see shapes, but there is lightness where once only pitch black existed. My first instinct was to call out to Berrybrow. But then I shut my lips and breathe sharply. This is for me to know. My secret. For if it turns out, all I can see are the shadows at the edges. What has been gained? But maybe, just maybe my purgatory is finally ending? I already know my irises have turned to jade. Mrs Berrybrow was sweet to sell it kindly, maybe as proof that my wolf is still trying to heal me. Ayr has since said he doesn’t give a fuck, that I was exactly the same man to him. Except hearing how the others hav
I secretly bought a set of jangling bells, but thankfully, they weren’t necessary. I did once tie them to her and woke up to a barrage of jangling cushions to the face. Then she pinned my wrists to the mattress as best as she could before wrapping her mouth around my semi-hard early morning dick. Confusing, briefly terrifying me and making me want to explode all in the space of five seconds. Perfection. Now, such spontaneity has been briefly retired. Instead, she has to choose from a pile of leatherbound books instead of leaping onto my groin. Holding out a selection of hardbacks, I mock-grumpily bark. “Pick one then,” before helping to place the covers over my hugely pregnant, half-glowing, half-irritated mate. We’re in the final stages of this miracle of a pregnancy, and somehow, my plan worked. “You always know which one I’ll choose,” she smiles back softly, her stunningly soft figure draped in an emerald green silk nightgown before choosing the same one she’s had for the pas
It’s not possible. “It can’t be…I mean…” only to turn and see the look on Ayr’s face. The one I’ve always wanted to see. It’s joyous. The sweetest, kindest expression. A god melted into a beaming man. But it is a look he shouldn’t be giving me. Anyway, it’s just one old lady’s opinion. I said I felt sick, but that surely happens to everyone who’s having the minor trauma of almost killing their mate in their sleep. Accepting the golden-eyed wolf could be hunting Ayr and I down for the rest of our lives out of spite is enough to turn anyone’s stomach. Or, as Mrs Berrybrow suggested, the golden-wolf attaches itself to a newborn. Then what? The instant some child turns eighteen and can connect with their spirit, will their soul be corrupted. Try to harm us? “Cass?” Ayr whispers, before reaching out for my hand. I have no idea how long I’ve been silent for whilst I felt the idyllic protection of my Volare life crumble around me. It's not safe. It will never be safe. I still can’t move
It’s been almost three months, and with Cass at my side, anything feels possible. Apart from conception, obviously, but we’ve both agreed that doesn’t matter in the slightest right now. I don’t know how it works, but even the Volare population seemed brighter. The packhouse has never seen so many bawdy nights, bands playing, people talking late into the night. Annoyingly, now I’m officially not a kidnapping, raping, deviant scumbag, the other packs are scrambling to purchase even more of our goods. Something to be remembered every time I am forced to attend a Council with the two-faced pricks. Apart from Locksley. He had absolutely zero scruples in buying fancy items from a despised Alpha. Or trying to seduce Cass via pastel suits and bouquets of flowers but thank fuck that game is over. At Cass’s request I have even led a couple of Volare full moon runs. Pretty sure she just wanted to get me naked in the Kallio side of the woods though. Unfamiliar territory to her meant I had th
Robyn had arrived in Volare with a few of my favourite gowns and essentials. Like she already knew I would never be coming back if they found me in Volare. “Cass what the hell happened here!” she gasped, taking in the dishevelled room. “Take a guess, Robyn!” I reply, towel wrapped around my body. “AH you're marked. I knew it!” she squealed.Hugging tightly, I quickly dressed, and we headed down to the main packhouse. I couldn’t resist my hunger any longer. Taking a long, empty bench in the far corner, my hair still damp from the shower with Ayr, I told her everything. Yet just last week, when we played with Lucy’s dolls house, I assured her I was fine. Snapped it at her if I recall properly. Now she knows the full extent of the agreement, the silver wolf waiting to be born. How we had decided, after making amends with everyone, that we had a clean slate. No guilt, no blame. Just forwards. “That’s exactly how it should be,” Robyn smiled. “I can not believe how much you’ve changed