I never really met Sol, both of us were injured during the night the Rogues took Mireille. Yet his death cast a long shadow over the following weeks. Reu ordered the beige clothing be abandoned for grey for a start. It made the elderly ones who liked to meditate resemble statues. Or gnomes. Apart from that, it was an improvement, a slight de-culting of the place. Unfortunately Hope’s nightmares returned too. Waking up clutching at my chest, panting, eyes wide with fear for at least a week. It killed me to know there was nothing I could do. Embraces, my arms, my kisses aren’t enough to soothe what’s going on in her head sometimes. It also meant there was no opportunity to mention what fully happened with Vera, and what she suggested Ryan was capable of. As far as everyone knew, I left her room, smashing the mirror because she tried to seduce me. Vera hasn’t said a word to challenge that rumour either. Reu and Elvie tutted away at my actions as you would expect but nothing more wa
You’re not meant to find out you’re going to be a father straight after you’ve roughly slapped your angels’ ass, ready to ravage her with a raging, powerful knot. I had cancelled all thoughts of my own children from my mind the instant I lost Skylar. A legacy of blood and failure was all my future offered. Before then, I had dreamed of it, the same as any man with a heart and a love of tiny, wonder-filled little faces. Of course, I had envisaged seeing my woman, ideally my mate, being a bit poorly on a morning, perhaps paler and more delicate. A wonderful realisation together and cause for celebration, flowers, every food and treat they could wish for. Not like this. Not me gripping her hips until they bruise sputtering out, “Knotting might hurt the baby,” in a dank, moss-riddled concrete prison. My poor angel. Finding out that way. Her eyes widened, and her mouth hung open for just a second. There was no way to tell if she was happy or sad. Her expression was pure shock. A second
Every morning, I wake up smiling. I know Cyrus is keen for us to get back above ground and away from the dankness of the bunker but waking up, surrounded in furs, in the humongous arms of the man I love is a hard thing to give up. Above ground seems so much more hard work now. My parents for one. I can easily picture my fathers face dropping in surprise. I doubt my giddy explanations of being in love will thaw their reception towards the father of my child. There’s the small matter of me wreaking a grey light of death down on all those innocent pilgrims. Plus, the fact there’s a plague out there beyond the mountains. I want to search for Skylar with Cyrus, yet at the same time I’m terrified to venture beyond those borders. Above ground Cyrus isn’t only my hero. He’s a criminal. Possibly notorious for his lycan rampage on his own village. He was dumped in prison by his own mother and surviving friends. Here he’s as cuddly and loving as a bear. Up above, I know I’m going to end up
I knew something was wrong before I even woke up. My dreams were shifting, dark, and dreary. A coldness, like the ice from above, had seeped into our cosy little world. Like the idiot I am, I woke up and smiled, stretching into the covers like a cat. Silly me thought his absence was a test to see if I really would let my feet touch the floor before he’d had his deliciously wicked way with me. Instead of questioning, I’d wrapped blankets around me,, expecting a cup of coffee, maybe some snacks. A cheesy joke about needing to keep my energy up for sure. I even put my coppery hair up in a high bun because I love it when he kisses my neck and shoulders. But then nothing. Without his presence, his bedroom is as sterile and miserable as everywhere else in this place. I felt his pillow, and it was icy cold. He hadn’t just left. He’d been gone a while. Unease building, my gaze travelled across our room, well, his room, and noticed his grey hooded top had moved. Nothing else. Still
With minimal ceremony Laurel and Rex, my two gnarled students from my pathetically short-lived art class came in with a bundle of warm clothing. I put on everything, feeling like a chunky seal as a third long sleeved shirt fit over my head. A sleek black fur, topped with a circular, low-sitting hat that covered my ears and forehead snugly. I took everything they gave me, braced for the whipping wind and pain in my chest that was sure to follow. “How has the clearing gone?” “It’s been hard,” Rex grunted, unboxing a sturdy pair of boots, taking out the preserving wrappers. “Every year is a little harder, this year, without the young guns…” “He’s trying to say he’s absolutely exhausted, and we’ve barely got anything done,” Laurel chimed in, her thick grey woollen mittens matching mine. “I wouldn’t say we’ll be able to move back into the fortress until the others come back.” “WIll they return? If Elvie and Reu gave them gold to get to safety, do you think they’ll make the effort?” L
It’s been a while since the weight of expectation has been placed upon my shoulders. Knowing everyone is packing up, waiting for Sven, Ryan, and I to create an acid strong enough to weaken the metal hinges. If I fuck this up, we’re looking at desperately trying to machine-gun a metal door open. “How sure are you about this? Making acid, I mean,” Sven asked, his blue eyes narrowing in confusion at the collection of glass bottles I had gathered. “It’s worked twice before,” I growled. “The hinges are iron, decades old, it might take a few hours but it’s about weakening, not dissolving entirely.”“Why didn’t you get out of prison then, why did Raze have to get you out?” Ryan asked, arriving with a clinking stack of bottles and funnels. When he’s rooting for information his brown eyes take on a weasel-like, taking on a shine too cold to be likeable.“Because there’s more to it that just the door to your cell, the walls, the guards, there was always something in the way.”Ryan spat into t
My father once told me survival is not just something you do. You have to will yourself through it. If you give up on yourself, even your wolf will stop healing you eventually. It is through our own determination we make it. Every freezing step through the icy wastelands I kept that in mind. The fact my father somehow managed this as a young boy is not lost on me. Competitiveness is a powerful tool. By the time I reach the black-ridged mountains I am completely humbled in his shadow. The strength of character to make sure he lived. That he would be able to return one day and put right the injustices done to his family. Day turns into night, I don’t even try to sleep for fear of never waking up. I eat as I walk, fumbling around for the oat biscuits and chunks of meat Howen had hastily thrown into my backpack. I thought of my parents and their struggle because the alternative is to think of Hope. The first day was the worst. The further the sun rose in the sky I constantly wondered
I’m sure Cyrus thinks I'm going mad, but all I could think about was making sure he was safe and warm. Some weird, over-protective instinct just kicked in the instant I realised he’d be cold. When I woke up from my nap, he went to go and help smash through the final metre of ice. The guy is a foot taller than me, two feet wider than me, and can lift me up effortlessly with one hand. He can fix anything. He is sensible and considered. He has a gaze and a filthy vocabulary that makes me burn up on the spot. Maybe it’s a tiny, silly bit of self-doubt about what I bring to the table. When I get bigger, well, massive, if this start is anything to go by, I still want to be his angel. Knowing I can do this for him, something he wouldn’t make for himself gives me the warmest feeling inside. Close to seeing how he tried to hide the pride on his face when those hinges flew off. I wanted to grab him and shower his perfectly grizzled face with adoring kisses for making this happen. Plus I’m g
Standing in the courtyard, I can feel my heart racing. It’s a strange feeling to know you’re going to die in a few minutes. I made my vow to Mireille all those years ago. I’ve been an Alpha of the North, overseen peace, and brought up our beautiful children, but this is the vow that matters. Because this promise was the one that eased my angel’s mind. Knowing we would have this final offering to the Moon Goddess and pray it is enough to free our children. /I love you/ I whisper to her, noticing her hands shake. I take her hand in mine and squeeze it. /You don’t have to do this/ she links back, her voice still as soft and light as the day I met her. Age has barely touched her. I am most definitely grizzled and rough around the edges. She is ethereal. Her pale green eyes shimmering with love and sadness, her white hair plaited tightly. She’s wearing a simple white dress. I insisted on wearing my huge winter fur. It seemed the right thing for me. /Wait, I want something/ I urge. I h
The last twenty years have been a rollercoaster, to say the least. That night in the hail, when Cyrus pulled me back from the brink and I spilt every single woe from the bottom of my soul to him, was the turning point. Since the triplets' birth, I had walked around with lead weights in my shoulders, dragging me down. Guilt chipped away at my self-confidence. To the point when I didn’t even feel I could be a Luna. Standing at the top of that tower, thinking the isolation helped clear y mind when it only bogged me further down in the doubt. Cyrus changed all of that. He took my guilt and made a solemn vow. Twenty years. If we can’t fix it together in twenty years, we will offer ourselves to the Moon Goddess. After that night in the hail, I cried for two days in a row. Once whipped away from the beam, the full horror of what I’d almost done was crushing. I couldn’t look at the children without damning myself all over again. Cyrus though, he became the Alpha. With everyone’s bl
If it wasn’t for the three women I lived with and little Opal I’d have lost my mind. Delilah hadn't changed from our blessed childhood friendship. Morgan’s mate Nell was full of bizarre ideas for preserving food and practising emergency drills. Lyra remained stoic and calm. Our lighthouse of sense and hope. Opal cried for her Daddy, and I had to try not to join in with her. I had to promise her he would come back, based on nothing but pure, desperate hope. It turned into full-scale war out there. The various Rogue armies were enormous, but they never quite made it to Filney. We were prepared, though. Thanks to Nell, we each had a gun safely stored by the bed. Escape routes planned. Little Opal still slept with me, keeping her close to my heart. Finally, one day, they returned. Trucks pulling in to Lyras white walled villa woke us up. One by one, we all screamed with excitement. Cal didn’t even try to trick or provoke me. He just pulled up the truck and sprinted towards us.
**FOUR YEARS LATER** I don’t know how time flew by so quickly. Everything Cal promised me has come true. We have bickered, disagreed, and walked down the beach in a huff. Mainly me each time, knowing he would be sat on the porch waiting for me with an amused smile. That lopsided grin that makes my stomach flip. We never stopped fighting for each other. Not for a second. It's been everything and more. That first morning, dozing in the hammock together, I woke up with a start. Realising the time, how late I was for retrieving poor Button made me scramble and swing so violently he crashed to the floor all over again. “You know I might ban you from my lovely hammock,” he groaned. I just laughed and pulled him up, pretending to rub his muscular shoulders, back, chest better until he growled and finally bent me over that porch. It was perfect. Of course, Button was absolutely fine with Declan and Lyra. They were already playing on the beach with her, Declan, having his toes burie
“Shit, the weather look,” she whispers, lifting her head up from my bare chest. From our cosy tower room, we can see wind is starting to howl, hail pelting the glass. The first savage winter snowstorms have begun.“It’s time to start prepping,” I grunt with disappointment, sitting up to get a better look. My beautifully naked angel sits in between my legs, allowing me to start nuzzling my chin against her neck. Her hand absentmindedly trails up and runs through my dark hair, keeping me close to her. “We’ll be underground for the first moon,” I add, which is the only thought that makes the idea of humping all those supplies down below bearable.“Hmm, you might be right. Let’s see how it goes,” she whispers back in a soft little voice before turning to plant a loving kiss on my grizzled cheek. “Better get dressed,” she groaned before pushing me down back onto the mattress and climbing on top of me. My fingertips brushed against her still red, warm asscheek and she jumped at the sensat
** TWO YEARS LATER **The first snows have landed. The next full moon is a fortnight away, but we will probably be underground before then. No pilgrims have arrived this month either. Things are a lot quieter at the Fortress these days. The grand days of my parents' first few years have definitely waned. A trickle of pilgrims instead of floods now make the dangerous journey over the mountain tops.I still stand at the top of the fortress and watch the sun descend. Every night, I stare at the black ridges of the mountains. I did it as a child. I did it the night before the rogues arrived and turned my life upside down. Now I stand every night we are above ground and observe its fiery descent and try to be thankful for what I have. Three wonderful children. A mate who worships me. Loyal, wonderful friends and family who made the last two freezes more than bearable. At first, I struggled with my survival. When Cyrus held me in his arms and told me dozens of times how he doesn’t need
“Hey there,” wasn’t the smoothest opener, but there was nothing else I could say. In the same way he knew my heart would melt for the flowers he put in the inn, he must have known that I would make some kind of entrance. My coppery hair is down, catching the breeze. For once I felt like a queen in my black dress after leaving Button with her kind-of adoptive grandparents. It’s tight, strapless, hugging my curves and showing off my long legs just as I intended. I don’t want my reunion with Cal to be about Button, as much as I love my little wonder. We'll get there, after tonight. After all, this moment has been a few days in the making. Cal’s not the only one capable of making plans. In fact, the first people I saw were Lyra and Declan. When I produced Button from out of the passenger seat, I felt a surge of panic. “She’s not Cal’s,” I said too quickly to sound polite. Then, allowing her to scamper off merrily towards the sand, I added softly, “She’s technically not mine either. I’
It’s a good job Hope was still asleep when I left. Otherwise, she might have caught up to me parked on the side of the road, still completely torn in two as to whether my gesture was romantic or insane. I ran my hands through my shaggy brown curls so many times it’s a wonder I wasn’t bald when I finally pulled up to the shoreline. Nine months after setting off I’m finally home. I raced home in dangerously quick time, panic-stops excluded. Because I have a home to build. A life to prepare. Howen and Pearl’s old villa at Finley is still magnificent, but it hasn’t been lived in for over five years. When I knocked on the door, there was only my mother there. Half a second of shock was followed by fifteen minutes of being almost throttled by her cuddles and kisses. Her long black hair was wavy from her morning swim, her gentle face full of worry. She quickly explained that my father had left to help Mireille and Cyrus after being summoned.. “So…what happened with Hope? I’m guessing tha
Only after she fell unconscious did the room check who was actually capable of performing such surgery. Sven and Quinn immediately pointed to me and my heart sank to its lowest, darkest depths.Slicing open her soft, perfect skin was terrifying. The tautness of her bump meant every cut felt far too deep yet not enough. Plus, if I didn’t hurry, the medication would wear off and leave her enduring more pain at full volume.With my poor angels whimpering cries finally silenced, you could hear nothing but the tearing, slicing sound of raw flesh as I cut ever deeper. With everyone's eyes burning into me, the blade shook in my hand.. “Hurry, this is no time for hesitation,” Arlen insisted. Stifling a growl, I steeled myself and made a sweeping horizontal incision. Then it was a mad rush to gather the babies. Cords were snipped, Arlen telling what to remove and what to stitch. I blindly followed, vaguely aware of tiny cries in the background but unable to do anything but care for my pale,