SorenDamon is waiting when I arrive at the pack house, prowling up and down with barely controlled fury. “Where’s Cerelia?” he demands, eyes hardening when he sees the confusion on my face. “Isn’t she back?”“No Soren, she isn’t back. She’s your Luna, surely you know where to find her? Or don’t you care what happens to her anymore now that you have Hilda back in your bed? Don’t bother denying it, I can smell her all over you.”“If you want to issue a challenge, Damon, do it. I don’t have the energy for a pissing contest right now. I need to find Cerelia. You may do well to remember that I’m your Alpha and you don’t demand things from me.” I can see that he’s wavering on a knife’s edge, more than a little tempted to go for me right then and there.“I suggest you shower at least 3 times before tracking down Cerelia, unless your aim is to dissolve the mating bond and strip her of being Luna?” Damon drawls. I understand his anger, but that doesn’t mean I intend to tolerate it.“We still
HildaI feel like I’m strung out on joy, effervescing, bubbling over with it. After everything that’s happened, I’m happier than I’d known it’s possible to be. Arlo and I talk constantly. About Lilith, the girls, the way he’s run the pack, the tension amongst his warriors. He holds nothing back from me.My love for Soren was very real and the pain of losing him cut me to the core, but I can’t deny that it wasn’t comparable to the bliss I feel now. Body, mind, soul, heart, it’s all brimming over with completion. I feel whole in a way I’d never experienced before.Seeing the way Arlo is changing, opening up not only to me, but to his pack, is a revelation. I can see his warriors are still wary, not sure whether they can trust this more relaxed Alpha King, but I have no doubt that he’ll win them over in short order. He’s too incredible not to.There are moments of darkness and doubt, which will undoubtedly continue for a long time to come. Forgiving himself isn’t going to be as simple as
Hilda “Dammit, I was sure it’s this way!” Arlo’s frustration is obvious. We’ve been hiking for hours and he keeps having flashes of memory, certain that he’s on the right path and a particular part of the woods looks familiar, until he’d suddenly stop and look confused.“It’s okay, Arlo. We know your mother messed with your memories and probably planted all kinds of traps to lead you astray. We’ll keep trying. One thing every area you’ve led us to has in common, are very large yew trees. Most of the forest is made up of beech and rowan trees, the yews are scarce. Plus they’re associated with magic. I think if we can mark their locations on a map, we may find the place that keeps sliding out of your head.”Arlo pulled me in for a kiss, tilting my head all the way back so I could look up at his tall frame. “Gorgeous, sexy and a genius. I won the mating lottery,” he murmurs huskily, toying with the buttons of my shirt. “Oh dear, one of those seem to have slipped open,” he says in mock r
Cerelia I can’t say that studying magic has been drearier than I thought. It’s fascinating, eventful, exciting. Maelor is a good teacher and he warms to me very quickly. He’s not what I first expected. He seemed a bit sullen and reluctant, but he’s come out of his shell completely. Throwing himself into our lessons with great fervor.“How exactly did you do it? I understand the talisman was to ward off evil, but on its own it could never have defeated someone as great as Lilith. Did you feed power into it somehow?” He’s been questioning me about it since the first day I got here.“Maelor, if I knew, I’d tell you, I really would. I’m sorry, but it’s all a blur. I was sure I was going to die and I reached for the only weapon I had. I never expected what happened next and it was all so fraught with danger I was flooded with adrenaline. Everything in that moment was strange to me, I can’t remember what I felt like, only what I saw happening to Lilith.”He sighs and pouts for a while. “Wh
Hilda“You’re not coming along,” Arlo tells me forbiddingly. He makes sure to use a tone that brooks no argument, but I’m brooking anyway, because there’s no way in hell it’s a good idea for us to split up. The mating bond between us is so powerful, that we do everything better when we’re together.I’m a stronger fighter, we both heal faster, we can anticipate the others thoughts and I’m happier when I know Arlo’s within touching distance. What a difference a few days can make in your life when you stop running from what’s right in front of you.“I’m not staying behind either. You can let me travel with the rest of the pack or I’ll follow along behind on my own, the choice is yours,” I tell him, crossing my arms over my chest. “Hilda, this isn’t a game. Rolf all but admitted Soren’s focus on war is led by his desire to get you back. You’re not going anywhere near him. I’m going to challenge him to a one-on-one fight and we’ll put an end to this once and for all.”His face softens when
Arlo I’m traveling with a small group of my best warriors. Nixie because she’s as fast as the wind. If things go wrong and we need back-up she can outrun anyone. Percy is my Beta and it was another area of contention between me and Hilda. I wanted him to stay behind and guard her, she insisted I should have my strongest fighter by my side.If convincing her to stay hadn’t already been so tough, I would have kept arguing until she saw things my way, but I was terrified she’d change her mind and decide to follow us. She’s more than worthy of being a Luna. Not much can sway her from her course, not even a direct order from her Alpha, I think to myself with a rueful smile.There’s no doubt in my mind anymore that none of my previous ‘mates’ had ever truly been intended for me. The way I feel about Hilda is indescribable. Her presence both electrifies and calms me. The whole world looks different to me now. I never realized how bleak my general outlook was until she came along and splashe
HildaArlo’s only been gone for a day and I’m already driving myself nuts. It seems inconceivable that a few short weeks ago I still had doubts about our relationship. It’s as though the thought of losing him flipped a switch inside of me, lighting up all the dark, hidden places and showing me the truth.I still shudder in shame when I think about my night of illicit passion with Soren. It was such an awful thing to do, something I would never have believed either of us capable of, but if it hadn’t happened, would I still be vacillating between trusting in my new bond and hankering for what I lost?I hope Soren can find the same peace and happiness that I have. That Cerelia is back with him and she can convince him to let go of his ridiculous determination to depose Arlo. I wish there was something I could do to steer him on to a different course of action. I don’t want him to die. I want him to live his own life and to let Arlo and me live ours.Goosebumps pop out on my arm when I re
CereliaI’m just getting started on dinner when someone starts hammering on the door of Maelor’s cottage. We take turns cooking, which I appreciate, even if the food he prepares is barely edible. It’s nice to feel that he sees me as an equal and not his temporary maid.Nobody else has come here since my arrival and he’s a recluse as far as I know. Maybe it’s a lost traveler. Whoever it is certainly seems to be in a panic, judging by the severity of the knocking. Maelor’s gone out to forage for herbs. Many of the ingredients needed for potions only bloom at night, or need to be picked at specific times of the day.“We have a problem-“ the woman snarls, snapping her mouth shut when she takes me in. “Who the hell are you?” she asks angrily. She’s older than I am, appearing to be in her mid-30’s. She’s flawlessly beautiful, with porcelain skin, glossy ebony hair, emerald eyes, ruby lips and an hourglass figure. She should take my breath away with her perfection but it seems too unnatural
TaraThe gravel crunches under my heels as we approach the front door, and I can’t stop staring at the building in front of me.The Redgrave mansion is less a house and more a gothic cathedral masquerading as one. Three stories of pristine white stone, arched windows, and wrought-iron balconies. Columns support a sweeping front porch lit by warm golden sconces, and every inch of the place hums with old money.There’s music drifting out, something classical and haunting, underscored by the gentle clinking of glasses and murmured conversations. It’s incredibly intimidating.Ash reaches for the door, pausing for a moment to look over at me. He’d offered me his dagger before we left the motel, but I’d refused. “I don’t know how to use it,” I told him honestly. “And if things get that serious, I’ll be better off shifting.”His expression had tightened. “Tara, if you shift in there-” He didn’t need to tell me. I’d be revealing the existence of werewolves. In my heart I’ve already decid
TaraI pace the narrow motel room like a caged animal. The carpet is stained and threadbare, the air too dry, the silence too loud. Ash lounges on the bed like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Like he didn’t just try to send me home like I’m some fragile thing he has to protect.I bite the inside of my cheek, hard. “You think because I’m not some blade-wielding she-wolf, I’m incapable of deciding what risks I’m willing to take?” Ash lifts an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You’re pissed.”“Brilliant deduction, Sherlock.” He sighs and swings his legs off the bed, sitting up. “Tara, I didn’t mean-”“I know exactly what you meant,” I cut him off before he can say something else that’ll make my blood boil. “You think I need protection. That I’m too weak and fragile to handle this. Poor little broken Tara can’t stand up for herself.”“I think you’re not thinking clearly,” he says calmly, “And that scares me.” I cross my arms and stare him down. “You’re scared? You. The
They’ve been gone for a week. Seven full days and not so much as a whisper. Not from Tara or Ash. I haven’t even been able to connect with her via mind link.Which is more annoying than concerning because I don’t know whether Tara is blocking everyone out on purpose, or whether she’s not capable of mind-linking. To my shame, I’ve never linked with her before and neither has anyone else.I hate not knowing what’s going on. I stalk through the front room of the house like a caged beast, arms crossed tight over my chest, and glare out the window as if it’ll suddenly show me something other than the same damn trees.The forest outside is calm. Birds chirping and wind rustling like nature has no clue the world is holding its breath.“She’s fine,” Arlo says from behind me, his voice calm and reassuring. It’s the same tone he uses when our daughter scrapes a knee and swears she’s dying. I whirl around, “You don’t know that.”He’s leaning back in a chair at the kitchen table, ankle rest
AshThe streets smell like stale beer, piss, and cheap cigarettes. Fitting, really. This city wears its decay like a second skin. Worn thin in places, rotting in others. And I’m walking straight through its guts, trying to chase ghosts.The note’s still in my pocket. Crumpled now, but the words ring as loud as ever. He knows. I don’t like being watched. I like it even less when the person watching knows exactly who I am.Don’t even get me started on Tara. She's making this harder than it has to be, with her sharp wit, easy laughter and those big eyes that look at me like I’m not a monster. Like I could be more than who I am. It’s dangerously distracting.I find the people I’m looking for near the river, where the city hides its’ disrepute. There’s a makeshift fire burning in a metal drum and a few bundled-up figures huddled around it, trying to ward off the chill.I keep my hands where they can see them as I approach. Nobody around here trusts clean boots and a straight spine.“Ev
Tara When I wake, the first thing I notice is that the bed beside me is empty. The second is the faint, echoing thud of my heart as I remember what happened the night before.The words are still carved into my thoughts like they were burned there: He knows. Who knows? What exactly? And who dropped the note there? So smoothly that even my werewolf senses didn’t pick it up.I sit up slowly, my nerves tangled like a knotted necklace. Ash is pacing by the window, fully dressed in black again. I’m sure he knows how good the color looks on him.“Morning,” I croak. “Staring dramatically into the sunrise, or just brooding for fun?” He glances over his shoulder, eyes flicking to my face like he’s assessing me for damage. “A little of both.”“Did you sleep?” I ask, only to be met with a nonchalant shrug. “Beauty rest is for people without enemies.”I throw the blanket off and slide to the edge of the bed. My legs feel a little wobbly as I remember the look on his face last night once we were
TaraAmber smells like wealth and cigars, and I feel like a walking accident waiting to happen.I step into the lounge on Ash’s arm, wearing the red dress that hugs me in all the right places and exposes every ounce of self-doubt I possess. My heels click against the floor like gunshots. Heads turn. Ash smiles like he owns the place. I try not to trip."Chin up," he murmurs, guiding me further into the lounge. "You’re a queen, remember?""I feel like a cautionary tale." He chuckles low, the sound curling around my spine. “A very sexy cautionary tale.” I jab him in the ribs with my elbow. “Don’t make me spill out of this thing.”Ash orders another bottle of ridiculously expensive wineand leads us to the same table as last night. Already, I can feel eyes on me. "Showtime," Ash whispers, topping off my glass.I glance around the room, trying to find the man from last night—the one who watched me like he was memorizing every freckle. It doesn’t take long. He’s seated at the bar this time,
Tara The sun creeps through the motel blinds like it’s got something to be smug about. I squint against the glare, the cotton in my mouth reminding me that maybe two glasses of wine, drunk at speed, were a tactical error.My head’s not splitting, but it’s definitely letting me know I made bad choices last night. Ash isn’t in the room.He waltzes in as if on cue, looking infuriatingly perfect. Crisp black shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, hair tousled in a way that’s definitely on purpose. He carries a bag in one hand, coffee in the other."You drool when you sleep," he says, placing a cup on the nightstand beside me. "I do not,” I argue. "You do. Adorably, I might add. Like a baby dragon."I sit up, snatch the coffee, and take a sip. Milk, no sugar. He knows how I take it, which should not make me feel all glowy."What’s in the bag?" He grins, wicked and self-satisfied, and holds it up with a flourish. "Your costume for tonight’s return engagement."I take it with more suspicion t
AshThe wine bottle is empty and Tara’s cheeks are glowing like she’s been kissed by the sun. She’s blinking slowly, caught between tipsy and overwhelmed, and I decide that’s our cue.I stand without preamble, smiling suavely at our companions. "We should be heading out," I say with a smile that toes the line between polite and possessive. "My sister isn’t used to these late nights."Tara’s eyes go wide, the perfect doe-in-headlights look, and I almost laugh. The table protests in a flurry of disappointed sighs and offers of more drinks. One man in particular looks personally offended that she’s leaving before he’s managed to charm the dress off her.She waves a hand, pink in the face. "I’m just not much of a drinker," she says apologetically, which is technically true, though I’d categorize her performance tonight as impressively reckless."We may stop by again tomorrow," I offer smoothly. I make sure to catch the eye of the man who’s been lurking at the edge of the crowd. He’s the q
TaraThe moment we step into Amber’s, every instinct I have goes on high alert. It's subtle, but unmistakable, a lull in conversation, the way heads pivot just a fraction too long. I feel eyes on us, and not in a friendly, welcome-to-the-neighborhood kind of way.Ash, of course, looks like he belongs on the cover of some luxury lifestyle magazine. Effortless. Debauched. Smug. The smirk he slides across the room is pure velvet, the kind that says, I own this place, you just don’t know it yet.“Relax, little dove,” he murmurs, brushing close enough that his breath grazes my ear. “You look like someone’s about to stab you.”“Maybe because that’s entirely possible,” I whisper back, eyes scanning the room. He chuckles, a low, dark sound that has no business being this comforting, and wraps his arm loosely around my waist.“Just lean into it,” he says smoothly. “You look like a queen, now act like it.”Easy for him to say. The room is a cocoon of decadence. Leather chairs that look too expe