Scar's heart welled in her throat as she considered the decision that Stanley had placed before them. She knew how much the goblin kingdom meant to Damon , and what would happen to his people, and the wolves he was trying to protect, if he gave in to Stanley' demands. And staring out at Damon , who stood stoic on the other side of the excavated pit, regardless of the injury she'd sustained just a day ago, she understood that her life was of no consequence when weighed against his dream. She sank against the cool metal of the large excavator, her body shaking from the cold and from her fear. It didn't matter that she'd realized that she was in love with Damon . It didn't matter that they were mates. She wanted to believe that he could love her, if they'd been given a chance at a life together. A chance to uncover what it meant to truly belong to each other. What mattered was, right now, that nothing was more important to Damon than ensuring that his kingdom didn't fall to Stanley.
Scar was more than a little relieved that she didn't have to tell Damon what she needed aloud. He already seemed to know, and she got the sense that he had learned so from her mind. The beast was practically on her back, whimpering with submission and desire even as Damon converged on her and took her into his arms. Scar could only imagine how ridiculous it would have been if she were a fragile, delicate human who had been tied up and held captive for over a week, but she wasn't human and from the moment she felt Damon's palms cup her face, she felt energy surging back into her limbs. Though her hands and feet still ached from being tied up so long, she was finally able to stand on shaking legs with her palms pressed against Damon's chest for support. She could feel the torn shreds of his t-shirt, but beneath them his wounds were almost entirely healed and she could feel the strength pulsing throughout his entire body. Soon it would pass from him to her. Yet she could feel h
If being a prince was tiring and burdensome, then being king of all the goblins and wolves was exhausting and impossible. Though the goblin rebellion had been quelled for now, there was a lot of work ahead of him to repair the damage that Stanley had done in his many years of sowing doubt against Damon. Still, it was a challenge that Damon took up gladly, for the sake of his people, and for peace. Two weeks had passed since Stanley' death, and working together to hunt him down and his remaining rebels had strengthened the relationship between the wolf shifters of some Lauchair's and the goblins for the first time in decades. Their alliance had proved fruitful so far, and Damon intended to go above and beyond to show his gratitude for the wolves who'd risked themselves to protect his reign. He let Snarl take over as the goblin head and made plans to subdue Shadow and the rest of the adamant Lauchair. It seemed that, for the first time ever, his mother's dream of peace was within rea
Even after several days and certain that he had managed to wash Beetles ’s scent from his skin, Snarl found he could barely look Damon in the eye , considering the abomination he had committed . Standing in the library of the Lauchair's Manor with his hands clasped behind his back, Snarl chose instead to avert his gaze to the floor as he listened to the latest report from his future alpha. “We’ve had reports of strange witches in the area,” Damon explained, running his fingers through his glossy black hair as he sat on the desk where his father usually sat in order to give them their orders. Already Damon was looking like the embodiment of an alpha, sitting all high and mighty in his father’s chair, and Snarl couldn’t help but feel a twisting in his gut whenever he thought of what his best friend might do if he found out about him and his witch girlfriend. “Cole and Brent even scented a couple within the boundaries of the community, but what we can’t figure out is how they are
“You have got to be kidding me! Snarl Rathbone? No way!” Hazel cringed at her sister’s words, knowing that she probably shouldn’t have told her anything about the night she had spent with the future army leader of the pack. Yet it had been a few days and she hadn’t heard from him, nor had she managed to pluck up the courage to write to him. She had to talk to somebody about it. Beetle stared at Hazel with absolute astonishment on her face. The two had been sharing a quiet meal together at the Silver Moon. That was until Hazel had dropped the bombshell on her. Now Beetle’s green eyes glittered with curiosity and surprise. She brushed back her ash-blonde hair and leaned across the booth to look Hazel directly in the eye before asking, “Well, what was it like? Was he any good?” At the question, Hazel’s insides tingled. She remembered all too well how good it had been, and it was clearly written on her face the moment Beetle asked, “That good, eh? Who would have guessed it from
Hazel wasn’t sure how long she had been down there in the dark. She wasn’t even sure where there was, but what she was sure of was that the rope binding her wrists and ankles wasn’t just any ordinary rope. If they had been, she would likely have already managed to yank herself free of them. No, the people who had kidnapped her were well-versed in kidnapping witches because the acrid stench of witch bane that hit her nostrils every time she tried to pull herself free told her so. As if rope burn wasn’t bad enough, the witch bane was slowly seeping into the cuts and scrapes of the coarse material, and it was weakening her from not only the outside in but also the inside out. She could feel the poison slowly leaking into her veins, making every single inch of her body scream for a release from the agony. The sound of thudding somewhere above her head alerted Hazel to the fact that she was no longer alone. The sound grew distant as though somebody was walking past above her head,
Standing outside Damon's meeting room inside Lauchair's Manor, Snarl debated whether to knock for the hundredth time. He had been fighting the urge to approach his best friend for the last few days now. It had been two days since their return from New York and since Snarl had received the message from Hazel sister, and still Snarl was feeling as though something wasn't right. He had gone to where they met secretly over and overagain whenever he found himself alone, hoping and praying that she would come , even if it was only to tell him to fuck off. Even if she said she wanted to forget all about what had happened between them and that she never wanted him to contact her again, he could face that. What he couldn’t face was the dreadful thought that something awful had happened to her while he had been away in New York. He wasn't sure he would ever be able to forgive himself if something had happened. Why would it be my fault? he asked himself even as he raised his fist to knock
"Snarl…” Hazel breathed the name, feeling his hands caress her flesh. She stood with her back to him, feeling his muscular torso pressed against her spine even as he reached around and stroked the hair away from her neck to kiss the side of her throat. Tilting her head to the side to expose her throat to him, she leaned back against him, practically arching her back like a cat in heat. When she did so, she could feel the rock-hard throbbing length of his manhood pressed against the curve of her ass and she bit her lip, knowing that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. Reaching back with her hand, she slipped it between her ass and his groin, cupping his balls in her hand. Squeezing until he growled with pleasure, she broke into a smile. Unable to control herself any longer, she whipped around to face him, beginning to tear the metal buckle of his leather belt. Even as she did so, his hands came to cup her face and he leaned down to kiss her, making her head spin with del