Snow Moon Castle, WolfshireWinter 1864 Tonight is the night we were supposed to die. Instead, we will make love to our wives. But for now, in the late wintry afternoon, we sit upon our horses, at the top of the rise, looking down on Snow Moon Castle. The castle looms in the distance, its frost-covered stone walls shimmering as the sun begins to set. The frigid air bites at our cheeks, and our breaths create clouds of steam as we take in the sight before us. From our vantage point, we can see the remnants of the tower that had served as our prison so many years before. Stephan, with a determined look in his eyes, has been slowly tearing it down, his sledgehammer against one brick at a time. The once imposing structure is now a mere skeleton of its former self, a testament to the resilience and defiance that had brought us to this moment. "Difficult to believe it's been twenty years". Raphael says, his voice filled with disbelief and a hint of nostalgia. The years have left their m
Wolfshire, winter 1854 *Tristan* I am waiting, not moving a muscle and not making a sound. Sitting on a large rock in the center of the ruins of the old church, I do not feel any distress even if I probably should. The snow is falling in fat wet flakes and the icy wind is howling around me like a pack of wolves but I stay still as a statue. I will not allow any happy memories to enter my mind. To be honest I am not excited for my brothers to return. I will not be happy about it. It is just a fact that I am waiting for. On this dreadful night it is ten years ago to the day that they left me. Like I was nothing, like I was trash to be thrown out, like we were not actual brothers with the same forefathers and the same blood running through us. All they had left me was the promise that on this very night they would return and we would finally get revenge on our uncle, the man who had wanted us dead so he could become the Alpha of the snow Moon pack. Throughout the passing years I co
The Capital, April 1859*Everly* Please don’t go. Please don’t leave me. The words keep repeating themselves in my mind. To say them out loud would be too final and too cruel. My dear papa has been caught in a vortex of pain for way too long already. He is slowly wasting away, and he is already a mere shadow of the strong and always laughing Alpha of the Blue diamond pack. The one person in the world I love the most. Sitting in a chair beside his bed, I am holding his withered hand, a hand too weak to squeeze back. So I do the squeezing, trying to tell him with my touch what I can not bring myself to utter with words: It’s all right to let go. Partly because the moment he is gone I have no idea what will happen to me. I try to ignore that fact. I have no wish to make his final moments more difficult, but the sad truth is that I have no idea how to get through even one day without him. As I however have no choice I will have to steal myself and find a way. Right now all I care abo
*Everly* A week has come and gone. I had discovered pretty quickly that leaving my bedroom was not an option. My half brother has locked the blasted door from the outside. I do however not shout, cry, scream, pound my fists on the thick wood, or kick against it even if it is what I truly want. I maintain my dignity. So I simply sit and wait, gazing out the window onto the glorious garden that continues to flourish. Should it not be draped in black ? It seems almost disrespectful for it to remain so brightly colored, but then I suppose it is simply striving to tell me that the world carries on. Tears will dry, and hearts will heal. Things might never again be as they were, but that doesn’t mean my life will never again be happy. Orley had promised that he would make sure that I am taken care of. So I am not extremely concerned, as promises like that are not to be broken, especially the ones made to your dying father. In spite of the fact that my half brother does not seem to care
*Tristan* I know that I have only been invited due to debt. Debt that is owed to me. But that is how it always goes, I owe nothing to no one. Not my friendship, my loyalty, my kindness and especially not my hard earned money. But Alpha Littlefoot, the newly appointed Alpha of the Blue diamond pack and a man of very little worth if you ask me, do owe me a fair amount of money, which is why I am currently sitting in his fancy library. I can’t help but wonder how soon the place will be empty of all the former Alpha’s prized possessions. He wasn’t a very wealthy Alpha to begin with and what little he had left his son has already been lost gambling in my establishment. And now Orley wants his credit extended, and that is why tonight he pretends we have some kinda friendship, that is not at all real. As I lounge comfortably in a soft chair near the fireplace I sip the expensive scotch that I doubt the Alpha can even afford, watching the assembled Young Alpha’s chatter and chuckle while
*Tristan* Finally, she is standing in front of me, her small gloved hands folded tightly in front of her. With her this near to me, I can see clearly now that her eyes are the most beautiful blue. No, more than blue. Violet. I have never seen anything like them. I imagine them smoldering with heated passion, darkening, gazing at me in wonder as I deliver her pleasure such as she has never experienced. An easy task if she has indeed never known a man’s touch. But just as I have no use for mistresses, I also have no desire for virgins. I have not been innocent in a good long while. I have no interest in innocence. It is a weakness, a condition to be exploited, a quick path to ruin. It holds no appeal. She holds no appeal. I rethink the words in an attempt to convince myself of their truth. But as her eyes burn into mine, I am left with the realization that she is not only innocent, but very, very dangerous. A silly thought. I could destroy her with a look, a word or a sarcastic lau
*Tristan* Obviously, I have been drinking a bit more than I realized, but it doesn't matter now. The challenge has been spoken, and I never go back on my words. Standing, I tug hard on my black brocade waistcoat that suddenly feels far too tight. “If any of you touch her, I shall happily separate you from the particular part that touched her. Littlefoot has assured us that she is pure. I don’t want her soiled by your sweaty hands or anything else. Have I made myself clear ?” “But you were only here to watch, to make sure ….” Littlefoot cut off his sentence and steps nearer, lowering his voice. “… To make sure I have the funds to cover my debt”. “When have I ever confided my plans in you ?” I say in a low growl. He looks slightly hopeful. “Then you’ll pay me the five hundred quid that Ekroth was willing to give ?” “I will allow you to continue to breathe. We will call it even, shall we ?” I say flatly. “But the idea of this evening was that she would go to the highest bid
*Everly* Late the following afternoon, freed from my lovely prison, I can’t recall a single time where I have ridden in a carriage with Orley. It is odd to have him sitting across from me, staring out the window at the darkening skies. It will no doubt be raining by nightfall. The air feels heavy and damp, as though it is simply waiting to unburden itself. I don’t even know where we are going, although I recognize the area as we have not yet traveled far from our home. When he had come to my room and commanded me to get ready for a carriage ride, I had almost told him to go to the devil. He had left me to worry all night, wondering if any of the alphas had hinted about an interest in me. But I had been too desperate to leave the house to risk upsetting him by revealing that I am angry with him for his behavior and lack of regard for my feelings. So I had simply donned a black walking dress, matching pelisse, and hat. I hate appearing so docile as it gives the impression that I a
Snow Moon Castle, WolfshireWinter 1864 Tonight is the night we were supposed to die. Instead, we will make love to our wives. But for now, in the late wintry afternoon, we sit upon our horses, at the top of the rise, looking down on Snow Moon Castle. The castle looms in the distance, its frost-covered stone walls shimmering as the sun begins to set. The frigid air bites at our cheeks, and our breaths create clouds of steam as we take in the sight before us. From our vantage point, we can see the remnants of the tower that had served as our prison so many years before. Stephan, with a determined look in his eyes, has been slowly tearing it down, his sledgehammer against one brick at a time. The once imposing structure is now a mere skeleton of its former self, a testament to the resilience and defiance that had brought us to this moment. "Difficult to believe it's been twenty years". Raphael says, his voice filled with disbelief and a hint of nostalgia. The years have left their m
*Everly* Tristan carries me up the steps. The door opens. Laurence bows his head slightly as we walk past. "Welcome home, my Beta, my lady”. My lady. I almost laugh. As Tristan begins climbing the stairs, I say. "Who would have thought the illegitimate daughter of an Alpha would one day be a lady ?" "You were a lady the moment you were born”. He says softly. "You once told me I was ruined the moment I was born”. I point out. He gives me a sheepish grin. "That was before I knew you. I was a foolish man then”. Not so foolish, I think. Cautious, rather. Not daring to care for anything that he might lose. He lost me once. He will never lose me again. The door to his bedchamber is open, and he sweeps me inside, kicking the door closed behind him. When he sets me on my feet, I knock aside his hat and run my fingers up into his hair. "Oh, I have missed this, missed you”. "Mary and her silly rules about respectability”. Bracketing his hands on either side of my face, he looks at me ser
*Tristan* Studying my reflection in the mirror, I tug on my light gray waistcoat. It takes an inordinate amount of time to dress these days. My hand has healed but the mobility in it isn't what it once was. Dr. Grimley set the bones together as best as he could. I'm grateful for that, at least. I haven't lost my hand completely, and I'm learning to write with my right. In retrospect, I suppose I could have told Grimmock from the outset that I was left-handed, so he would have broken the right, but I'm familiar enough with the man's torturous ways to know that a time would come when I would have signed anything the man put before me in order to stop the pain. And I would be damned before I gave the man anything that belonged to Eve or to Mick, for that matter. So damned I am. But not as much as Grimmock. During the three months since my rescue, I have found myself spending more time with my brothers, and I wonder why I had resisted being in their company for so long. Late into th
*Tristan* The boxing room is more shadows than light, but then it usually is. Most of the light focuses on the ring where Alpha Ekro stands, as he keeps glancing around at the other men surrounding the roped-off area. I called the meeting, and invited Ekro into the ring. It seemed like he was going to decline the invitation until Mick ushers him in with a gentle prodding and the lifting of the rope. Splints keep my left hand immobile and it's far from being completely healed, but I can pack quite the punch with my right. I wonder if Ekro recognizes the significance of the group of men who are in attendance. If any of them realize why they have been singled out for this particular lesson. "Don't keep us in suspense, Tristan. What's the meaning of all this ?" Ekro asks. "Beta Rafe". I correct him. He looks at me with confusion. "Pardon ?" "Not Tristan, but Beta Tristan Rafe. That's how I should be addressed". He huffs lightly. "I didn't think you cared much for your heritage".
*Tristan* They come for me and take me back to the almost empty room, placing me in the chair at the table, securing me to it. This time Grimmock is sitting too, scrawling on the paper. "When I'm finished here, you will just sign it as best you can”. He says. "Then your hell will be over”. I doubt it. I have not gone mad with the binding. I simply pretend that they are Eve's arms, wrapped around me, holding me close, as she whispers words of encouragement. All will be well, everything will turn out fine. Lies. I can survive on lies. So could a boy. "Do you already forget that I write with my left hand?" I ask. "I don't forget anything. I did not forget how you blackmailed me”. He lifts his gaze and stares pointedly at me, with one eye closed and the other hard and accusing. "I did not forget how you turned my own lads against me. Even those who owed me coins stopped fearing me, thought you were keeping watch over them”. I won't go so far as to say that I was keeping watch over
*Everly* As I follow Manson down the hallway, with Raphael and Stephan behind me, I realize how differently I view this residence now. Once I considered it my home, but I understand now that it was my father who made it a home, not the walls, the portraits, the furniture or the decorative pieces, although there seem to be far less of those now. I wonder how many items Orley has sold to relieve his debts. When we walk into the library, Orley jumps out of his chair and hurries around his desk. “My Alpha, Beta Raphael, sirs, this is an unexpected surprise”. I can't help but notice how he ignored me. “You know Miss Everly, do you not ?” The Alpha asks. Orley's face turns mottled red. “Yes, of course”. “You would be remiss not to greet her as well”. Stephan says in a tone that is clearly a demand. He gives me a perfunctory nod. “Miss Everly”. “My Alpha. May I say that you are not looking well these days ?” He had lost weight, much like me after the death of my father. His skin ha
*Everly* I think I should be hungry, especially as the dinner set before me is one of the finest I have ever seen, but everything tastes of nothing. I eat tiny bites because it makes things more palatable. "Is it not to your liking ?" Mary asks. "I can have Cook prepare something else”. I smile at her. "I have no appetite. That's all. You have been so kind”. They took me in the night I walked out on Tristan. I didn't know where else to go, but I learned early on that the Luna is an extremely compassionate sort. She held me while I wept and blubbered. She passed no judgments on Tristan except to say that I had been right to leave him. But if that's the case, why do I hurt so badly ? Why do I sit in my bedchamber and stare out the window at the residence across the way, hoping for a glimpse of Tristan ? Is he well ? Does he miss me at all ? Sometimes I consider returning to him, but I want so much more than he can give me. I yearn for the essentials that can't be purchased: love,
*Tristan* I am standing at the window of my apartment at the club, watching people coming and going, trying not to remember how much they had fascinated Eve. I find it impossible not to think of her. Everything reminds me of her. As I walk through my residence, I inhale her fragrance. I can no longer bear being there, not even for a moment. Every room holds a memory of her. It's equally difficult being here, at my club. When I box with Mick, I think of Evie enduring my lessons in the ring. When I look out over the gaming floor, I see it through her eyes. When I go to my office, I regret not showing her the globe that Tristan had carved for me, not telling her that I was afraid to be grateful for it. If I truly care for something, it will be stripped away. The best recourse is not to care. Then I will be immune to hurt. So why am I now in so much blasted pain ? Because I adore her, dammit. That's the reason I am in such agony now, why I am not seeing after my club, why I don'
*Tristan*I press my back to the vibrating door. I didn’t need my key because it's no longer locked. I should be familiar with the room by now, but it still takes me off guard. All my clothing is gone. Every torn shirt, waistcoat, jacket. Every pair of trousers. Every scrap of remaining neckcloth. Every discarded bit of attire that once offended me, threatened to suffocate me. Gone.Eve had gathered them up and taken them to the poor.The bare mattress upon which I once slept when the thought of sheets or blankets would make me break out in a sweat is no longer visible. It's covered by violet velveteen. The recently hung draperies are drawn aside to let in the night. Not a speck of dust is to be seen. The wooden floor is polished to a fine sheen.The room smells of beeswax and polish. The room smells of her.She has done this. She has chased back the demons. She has returned to me the magic of touch. She has helped me conquer the madness.I stride over to the window and gaze out when e