*Maddy*Cassian looks like absolute hell. His legs are stretched out on the couch in the informal den on the third floor, a place with a high-tech stereo and several bookcases stacked with magazines and board games. It’s normally a happy, relaxing place, but his presence sucks the very life out of the castle, let alone this room. A wiry old man with bottle-cap glasses inspects the gleaming metal arm now attached to Cassian, replacing the right arm he lost in battle. I’m speechless, in total shock as I hover nearby, standing on my toes to look over the shoulder of the stooped old healer. “Now, try to curl your fingers,” the healer says in a graveling voice. His nose crinkles with delight as Cassian does exactly that, the metal fingers flexing, then curling inward. “Incredible.”Dark circles line Cassian’s eyes, and his normally handsome face is hollow and expressionless as he wordlessly goes through the exercises instructed by the healer. Isaac stands nearby, his arms crossed, with
*Ella*Three days passed. Three days we spent hiding in the cave waiting for Granger then running like hell to Granite Rise at his behest. The rest of the time we spent sitting around with no news about what happened in the clearing after Ryatt forced us to leave. For three days, I’ve gone over every harsh word I’d ever said to him, wondering if I’d been wrong. We’ve been in Granite Rise for a little over twenty-four hours now. I’ve barely left the house–Amanda’s parents’ house–since we arrived. Hannah continues her endless slumber in a bedroom downstairs, overseen by the occasional healer who dribbles water and broth into her mouth just to keep her alive. She still has that sleepy smile on her face, but her skin has become pale and glassy, and her once bright, tightly curled pale golden hair is now lackluster. I move away from her bed for what feels like the hundredth time today, my finger curling around the doorknob as I glance at her over my shoulder one last time before I forc
*Ryatt*Ella moves between the canvases in her studio, sunlight dusting over her bare shoulders. She tucks a strand of her lush, dark brown hair behind her ear, revealing her paint-smeared cheek. Tear stains shimmer in the sunlight drifting through the angular windows like little silver pieces of thread that trail down her jaw and neck. “I’m sorry,” I tell her, again and again. How many years has this been happening now? My nightmares bleeding into her own? I can’t stop it from happening. I’ve tried, trust me. I’ve taken every potion and tonic to put me into a complete stupor to stop my mind from drifting when I finally close my eyes, but that bond we share against our will ignites almost every night, tethering us together across realms. I watch as she opens a can of black paint. She pulls a vial from her pocket that glistens in the sunlight–pale white with tinges of blue. “Don’t, please–”Too late. She empties the vial of her tears into the paint and mixes it well until the conten
*Ella*I used to bring myself to tears to get what I wanted. It never worked on my mom, not once. But my dad… he was a sucker for my tears and always bent to my will if I let them flow. But I was a different person before I left my kingdom behind to come here. Now, my tears are real, and I do, in fact, feel like I’m falling to pieces. Since Hannah is still in a coma, Amanda is my only friend in this place, if I can even call her that. And right now, she’s on house arrest, or whatever the equivalent of grounding is in this Goddess forsaken place. Ryatt slowly turns around, his face shrouded in shadows. Rain patters on the top of his head, making his dark hair twist into curls. His gray eyes are sharp and focused on mine. “Go back inside.”“Are you coming with me?” I ask, hating how desperate I sound, but I am desperate. Desperate for anything from him, despite the walls I’ve built around my heart. He exhales through his nose and glances at the cottage over the top of my head. “For a
*Ella*Ryatt goes totally still. “I’ve never–I’ve never done this–” He pulls away, and I feel like someone has just dumped a bucket of ice water over my head. I snap my legs shut, a furious blush crashing over my skin like a tidal wave. Even my hair stands on end as a deep, cutting embarrassment shreds me apart. I look at him only once. His eyes are dark now, his expression made of cold stone. “I’m sorry,” I breathe, and his eyes snap to mine. “Don’t be. This was my fault. I lost control.”“No, it was mine–”The door in the front of the cottage opens and several male voices drift our way. I suck in a surprised breath, but Ryatt has already turned and left the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him before anyone can see me in my state of undress. My heart is thundering in my chest as I quickly cover my thin nightgown with a robe and head to the door, but I stop, my hand curling around the knob, when Ryatt’s voice lifts above the rest of the muffled conversation in the next ro
*Ryatt*Ella’s lips are warm and supple against mine, but there is nothing soft or gentle about this kiss. Our teeth clash, and she bites down hard on my lower lip as I lift her up so her legs are wrapped around my waist. Goddess, I would have lost control. I would have laid her on the cold, hard ground and fucked her like the bond wanted me too, like I wanted to, had it not been for the thick, metallic scent of magic in the air. She’s going to hate me for this trick. I already regret it, but what choice do I have when we’ve been followed by hellhounds for the last ten miles? She has no idea that I’ve walked us backward toward a large, jagged rock that juts out from the ground and looms behind us. She has no idea there’s a cleft just big enough for three people–her, the fox, and her maid. I break from the kiss, gasping for breath, and then turn toward the opening. In the darkness, it’s nothing but a shadow against the granite face of the rock. I toss her into it, and she chokes o
*Ryatt*My men are doing exactly what I told them to do. Run. Run in circles around camp. Try to get the hounds to funnel between the two huge rock formations we camped between. Trap them on either side. I try not to think about the bloodshed, not yet. There’s only a few of us left after battling with my father’s men. Everyone is in their wolf forms except for me. I wield the sword–an ancient weapon that belonged to my mother’s family and was passed down to me. A sword from the first war, the same war that decided the fate of this land. A hellhound in the form of a bear charges for me, chasing two of my men. The wolves bank in opposite directions as I raise my sword and swing, sending the blade across the bear's back. Its cry of agony rains down on us as sparks fly in my sword's wake. Somewhere in the forest, a scream echoes off the trees. A female scream, one of pure, unadulterated frustration. I turn to the sound, panting, blood and sweat dripping from my brow as I narrow my eye
*Ella*“What the fuck is going on?” Ryatt seethes. He steps in front of me, his sword of pure darkness clutched in one hand so hard his knuckles turn white. The cloaked woman’s mouth ticks into a tight smile. “It’s been a while, Alpha.”Ryatt tilts his head, his eyes narrowed and murderous. “Do not make me ask you again.”She slowly motions toward the cloaked figures behind her. Further in the trees, I can see two glowing beasts standing totally still. More hellhounds. “We sensed a threat a week ago. One of our hounds took care of it.” Her eyes land on mine again with interest. “But I see we may have been mistaken in our actions.”I’m still holding Granger’s head in my lap. He groans, coughing weakly. It’s a wet, bloody sound. “He’s really hurt, Ryatt,” I whisper, my voice shaking as I keep my eyes on the woman–the witch. “This could be perceived as an act of war, Ravenna. Are we not allies? Am I not your king?” Ryatt’s voice is sharper than I’ve ever heard it before. He’s pissed. R
MistyI flip a page in my journal, squinting at the terrible handwriting I’d scribbled down last night when I’d woken from my latest dream. I can’t comprehend what I’d been trying to say. Dark? Hurt? Silver? Those words look somewhat clear. I can’t even remember writing them down. I close the journal with a sigh and slip it back in my purse, hanging the bag over the back of my chair in the common room of my dormitory. It’s a massive building with a pitched roof, several towers, and spooky, darkened alcoves, but it’s home, and right now, I’m sure I’d be able to hear Georgia singing her heart out in the shower if the nagging, incessant voice in my head would shut up for a single, blissful second. I’ve come to the conclusion after two years of hearing what I can only describe as white noise and the occasional static screech, like I have a radio fixed inside my skull, that the voice isn’t my internal dialogue. No, that’s a separate entity in itself, and I’m constantly at odds with the u
MistyTwo white wolves in a clearing.Their bodies made of mist and aether, standing side by side.Mates. A marvel of second chances and extraordinary fate.Two white wolves turn toward the sunrise knowing what they must leave behind; what he sacrificed for those he loved and her refusal to let him go into death alone.Two white wolves stand over their earthly bodies. He, battered and still.She, going into death with eyes open, cupping her mate's face between her graceful hands, her eyes locked on his at the moment of her dying breath.Their last words had been simple. I love you.They always had.They’d promised this instance in stolen moments, in private corners, when there was nothing but the stars to light their way.I will not stay here without you.I will not leave you behind.And so, it was.Two
AvivaThe first flakes of snow fall from the sky as I watch Ryan trying to herd everyone in position. Bundled against the cold in a wool coat Freya and I worked tirelessly on for the last three weeks, I step to the side, finding myself in the center of the crowd standing in the middle of the village of Silverhide. I watch my mate and his Beta, James, nudge families together and run back and forth toward a tripod where Ryan’s camera rests, facing us, to gauge whether all one-hundred and fifty people are in view of the lens.Ryan stands behind the camera with his hands up, his hair dusted with snow. “Okay. Nobody move!”A few excited giggles whisper through the front of the crowd where the numerous children are arranged. I glance around, watching as James joins Dahlia’s side, their baby on her hip. The baby girl finally has a name. Cosette, named after a friend of Dahlia, but they call her Cossie for short. Other babies
Two months later…RyanThe Harvest Festival has been held at the festival grounds between Endova, Teshka, and Navvan for centuries. When we arrived two days ago, leaving only a few people behind in Silverhide to make sure the animals are tended to in our absence, the wide, open space had been nothing but rolling plains.Now, it’s a city of canvas tents and twinkling lights, the air spiced with smoke and the smells of meals being cooked at each fire. Songs mingle as I walk through the festival with Aviva on my arm. I’m wearing a normal outfit. Well, not normal, actually. Mom forced me into a suit and tie with the Crescent Falls royal banner and all of my metals from my years as a warrior draped over my shoulders. Aviva is wearing that white, fur-lined dress again and a pair of new sheep-skin boots Freya and Mercy made for her, but instead of freshwater clam shells and pearls decorating her hair, her curls are w
RyanAn hour earlier…I can’t scrub the image of Aviva dead in my arms out of my head. It’s been several days since the battle, since the moment I put her in my uncle's arms and turned back to the ravaged scene, not knowing whether or not she survived the journey all the way to Maatua.Three days. It was three entire days before Sydney arrived in Silverhide with news about my mate. I’d just arrived back at my territory, exhausted and in tatters, when he clapped a hand on my shoulder and used his powers to spirit us to Moonrise, then to Veiled Valley, then to Maatua. He’s not as strong as Ryatt. Jumping took a toll on us both, and when we finally arrived at my grandparents’ beach house, I collapsed before I even made it up their driveway.Everything since the battle is a blur. Navvan is just… gone. The few survivors were mostly women and children who’d left the villag
AvivaI wake with a start to bright, warm sunshine and the smell of salty air. I grope white sheets, blinking several times to clear my vision as an unfamiliar bedroom fades to life around me. Warm white walls. Pale wood finishes and sleek furniture in soft browns and creams. White curtains drift in a salty breeze coming through several open windows, and a glass door opens to a deck with a view of… a view of the ocean.I’ve never seen the ocean before. From where I lie, I can hear the waves crashing on a white sand beach. Music I don’t recognize drifts toward me, carrying two voices with it, one male, and one female.“Your parents worry about you endlessly, Misty.”“They have nothing to worry about. It’s not like I’m ten anymore, Grandpa. I can make my own way in the world now. Plus, where was their worry when they shipped me here four years ago, huh?”“You
RyanI’ve been dreaming about tying Aviva to my bed, but I’m going to make it a reality for entirely different reasons. Now, I’ll be tying her to keep her there, forever. No more hunting. No more fighting. No more killing rogues barefoot in the woods.No more putting herself in situations like this. I will do her dirty work. I will gladly do it. I roll with Hardan in his… hellhound form? Whatever the fuck he is now. I wish, Goddess, I wish I could have faced him man to man instead of beast to beast. I would have loved to see the look on his face when I ripped out his heart for even thinking for a second he had some kind of claim to my mate, even before I found her. We roll down a decline. I sink my talons into his belly, ripping hard, but I already know hellhounds aren’t that easy to kill. We crash into an oak tree. Leaves shower over us as he tries to claw free of my grasp. He’s calling out, bellowing strange, high-pitched howls. The forest floor rumbles as I sink my claws into hi
AvivaI’m having the time of my life.I zigzag through the woods in my wolf form after three rogues who’ve decided they want nothing to do with me. In fact, the rogues have stopped hunting me over the past several hours and instead are trying to get as far away from me as possible. Their prey has become their biggest predator.I did my best to lead the horde away from Endova. That was my goal–the reason I made the snap decision to leave my mate behind and race into the jaws of death itself. Now, I have the horde moving away from the tribal packlands all together, herding them back into the open plains like a shepherd, and they’re my sheep–if a shepherd killed their sheep, that is.I’ve lost count of how many there are. My red fur is completely black with their blood. I catch my reflection in another small, burbling creek as I leap, seeing only my eyes shining like polished amber against a
Ryan“She’s not here, Ryan,” Mercy hisses as I run through the village. She’s hot on my heels, grabbing my fur to try to pull me to a stop but I’m not in my right mind.It’s been five hours since I last saw Aviva. Andrew and I have been scouring the forest and plains for any sign of her, but I lost her scent, and my desperate attempts to mind-link with her have come up empty and silent.I shift into my human form the second I cross into the pack house and immediately crash into one of the tables, tripping over the bench and landing on my side with a crunch. I’ve been in my wolf form since last night. Exhaustion sings through my bones as my vision spins. I hear Andrew similarly falling to the ground with a choked groan before hurried footsteps reach the pack house. Someone throws a blanket over me with a scoff, followed by Mercy’s sharp, soprano voice ripping through the air as she starts s