The night air was thick with the scent of war and Lycans.The distant howls came first, low, hungry, and unrelenting. Then came the pounding of paws against the earth, a rumble that shook the trees as Derek’s pack descended upon Cove’s territory attacking Cove’s warriors.The warriors stationed at the perimeter barely had time to react before the enemy struck. The gates trembled as massive claws tore into wood, snarls filling the air as the first wave of werewolves breached the defenses.Within the stronghold, Cove’s sharp ears twitched. His gaze darkened as he rose from his war table. He could already sense it, Derek. His scent curled through the wind, thick with fury and desperation.“They're here”Cove growled, already shifting. His bones cracked and stretched, his muscles thickening as dark fur erupted across his skin. His face elongated, jaws widening into a powerful snout as his hands twisted into claws. In mere seconds, the man was gone, replaced by a towering, black-furred bea
The forest was very quiet except for the soft sounds made by the leaves and the distant sounds of the night. Derek’s warriors moved carefully, their steps slow and heavy. Some carried fresh wounds, while others pressed hands against deep cuts that would take time to heal. Their bodies would recover, but their pride was another matter; the wound was just too deep.Near a small fire, Derek settled and sat with his warriors. His fur marked with streaks of blood; some his, some not. His dark red eyes reflected the bright light as he stared into the flames, deep in thought.Ronan, his second in command, stepped forward. His silver fur bore signs of many battles, but tonight, there was something else in his gaze, concern, maybe even doubt.“That human,” Ronan said quietly. “Why did Cove protect her?”Derek’s hands on his jaw. He had been asking himself the same question. Cove had fought with everything he had, not just to win, not just for his land, but for her. It wasn’t just instinct. It
The grand Lycan Hall buzzed with whispers, tension thick as the smoke curling from the kitchen. Warriors sat at long wooden tables, their fur still stained with blood from the battle, their faces scarred. Maids walked between them, pouring fresh ale and setting down trays of food, their ears tuned to the whispers swirling like a restless wind. Tonight, the talk was not of war. It was of something far more dangerous. “Did you see it?” a young warrior asked, leaning in close, you could barely hear him over the clinking of glasses. “See what?” the older warrior beside him asked, his tone tired , his eyes red from lack of sleep. “Alpha Cove… he protected her. He fought for her.” His friend laughed and took a deep gulp of ale. “Oh, I saw it. We all did,” he said, shaking his head, his braided beard swaying like a pendulum. “Reckless. He nearly got himself killed for that human girl.” A maid placing a tray of bread hesitated, her eyes darting between the warriors. She glanced
Lycia sat on the edge of the bed, her body was tensed, her hands barely holding her body upright. She hadn't slept. The night had been long and restless, her mind replaying every horrifying detail of the battle she had witnessed, and every moment of Cove’s transformation. Her prison was even more unwelcoming as ever, the walls that were made of rough, unpolished stone, trapping her in their icy embrace, reminding her that she was nothing more than Cove’s prisoner. A small barred window high up let in faint light, casting eerie shadows on the disarranged bed she sat on. The air inside smelled of moisture and decaying timber, reminding her how far she was from freedom.She turned to the mirror looking at her reflection in the old, dust covered mirror across the room , which made her stomach twist. She looked so unkept; her long hair tangled, her track suit wrinkled and stained with dirt and dried blood. Dark circles hung under her eyes, making her look drained and weary. Her lips w
The air was foggy outside, with the scent of damp earth and the distant howls of nocturnal creatures. Raven wandered outside the cavern, her thoughts tangled, she couldn’t stop but overthink her place in all of this. The weight of the truth unsettled her, eating up the edges of her usually unshakable confidence. She had spent years mastering her art of manipulation, twisting people to her will, yet tonight, she felt an unfamiliar unease creeping into her bones. She walked further, drawn by the need for more solitude, but the soft murmur of voices in the distance caught her attention. Instinctively, she pressed herself against the rough bark of a tree, her breath shallow as she strained to listen to the sound she heard. Just beyond the tree line, under the pale glow of the moon, she saw Conan standing stiffly before a shadowy figure, cloaked. The figure’s presence exuded authority, a chilling aura that made Raven’s skin develop sudden goose bumps. "The map," the figure demande, his
Vandal placed a firm hand on Conan’s shoulder, his voice steady but filled with grief. “My job here is done. I must return to the Void.”He stepped back, his figure fading like a dying flame. A cold wind rushed through the trees as shadows gathered around him, twisting and shifting. The air felt heavy, as if the world itself was holding its breath. Vandal gave Conan one last look; one filled with pain, determination, and something unreadable, before vanishing into the darkness.Conan stood frozen. His breath came in quick, uneven gasps. Then, the memories struck like a tidal wave, crashing into him all at once.The scent of smoke and blood.The howls ripping through the night.Screams; his mother’s voice, desperate and shaking.His mother knelt beside him, pressing a shaking finger to his lips.“Shh, my little cup. Stay quiet, no matter what happens.”Conan didn’t understand. His little hands clung to her dress as she held his baby sister close, wrapping the child tightly in a bundle
Her body twisted, bones shifting beneath her skin. White fur sprouted along her arms, her nails sharpening into claws. The air crackled with power.Conan squeezed his eyes shut.The sounds that followed were not human.Snarls. Roars. The clash of claws against claws. The crack of bones snapping.He felt his baby sister tremble in his arms, and he held her tighter, biting his lip to stop from crying out.ThenA sharp, agonized scream.His mother’s scream.Conan’s eyes flew open.She lay on the ground, blood pooling beneath her. The werewolf loomed over her, its massive jaws dripping blood. She was still breathing, but barely.Her eyes looked toward the crawl space, locking onto Conan’s.She mouthed something,“Run.”Then the beast struck.A sickening crack.Silence.Something inside Conan shattered.His vision blurred, his breath coming in ragged sobs. His small hands trembled against his sister’s bundle, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t look away.The werewolf lifted his mother’s lifele
The first wolf lunged towards Conan. Raven barely had time to react before Conan moved. His body twisted, avoiding the wolf’s snapping jaws by an inch. In one fluid motion, he grabbed the dagger strapped to his thigh and plunged it deep into the werewolves’ ribs. Causing the werewolf to let out a strangled yelp, that echoed through the trees as the beast collapsed, squealing for help in the damp, moonlit clearing. But the others didn’t hesitate. Two more lone wolves sprang forward, their eyes blazing with hunger. There was no plan in their attack, only pure, reckless desperation. Unlike pack wolves, they weren’t bound by loyalty or strategy. They fought for survival alone, driven by nothing but raw bloodlust. Conan turned sharply, ready to face them head on. The first wolf lunged for Conan’s arm, its jaws snapping, but he moved fast, twisting himself out of reach and slicing deep into its side. The beast let out a pained yelp, stumbling back. The second wolf barely had a chance to
“Put your clothes back on,” he said coollyAlpha Cove’s eyes stayed on the paper, though he hadn’t written a single word in minutes. The ink had dried at the tip of his quill. Across the desk, Luna Anya remained gloriously nude, draped across his chair like temptation incarnate.His voice, when it finally came again, it was sharp ice.“You’re a Luna, Anya. A married werewoman with an Alpha husband. And yet you come to my office thinking of someone else other than Alpha Damien in between your thighs?.”Luna Anya blinked, caught off guard by the words from Alpha Cove’s mouth, and the shift in his tone.Cove stood, pushing the chair back. His gaze was no longer distracted—it was cutting.“Your infidelity disgusts me. You think being wrapped in silk and seduction excuses being a slut?”Her face twisted. “Excuse me?”“Yes, you heard me right,” Cove growled. “If you want to offer yourself like a whore, that’s your business. But not in my office. Not while pretending your union with Alpha Da
“She isn’t supposed to matter to me." Alpha Cove spoke quietly, just a bit louder than the fire burning behind him“She is just… a thief.”He said it like a mantra, like repeating it might magically rip her from his thoughts. But the truth laughed at him.He didn’t know if he was trying to convince or lie to himself. But neither seemed to work.He leaned back in his chair, his gaze didn’t stick to the paper he was writing on. It drifted, again, to the thought of someone he couldn't shake out of his mind.Lycia.Since her capture, he has always been drawn to her. And the fact she reminded him of Freya his lost lover, made his feelings for her strongerHe hated that he was drawn to her.And then there was Alpha Damien.The man oozed arrogance like cologne; strong, nauseating, and impossible to ignore. His voice still echoed in Cove’s mind like a bad song stuck on repeat: “I want her as my maid of honor while I’m here,”As if she were some party favor. As if she were nothing.Cove’s jaw
So later that night.The music had thinned. Laughter faded into tired murmurs. The feast was ending.Morrigana returned to the grand hall, slipping back beside Anya like she had never left.Damien, glazed with wine and slouched in his seat, barely noticed her return.But Anya did.Anya leaned over, murmuring something to the guards before brushing her lips close to Damien’s ear. “You’ve had enough wine for tonight, darling. Come. Let’s retire.”The guards moved to escort him. He didn’t protest, he never did when Anya used that voice.Before Anya could rise too, Morrigana gently caught her wrist with a gracious smile. “Forgive the interruption, Luna Anya,” Morrigana said smoothly, her tone laced with just enough sweetness to coat the malice underneath. “Alpha Cove asked for you. Said it’s urgent, southern wing, his study precisely. Something about... discussing some personal affairs.”She leaned in slightly, voice dropping like a secret shared between women.“Sounded rather... pri
Back to the lycan hall, Damien was still toasting in the name of gods no one believed in, making a mockery of the etiquette with every raised goblet in Cove’s estate.He lifted yet another drink, eyes lazily raking over the crowd—until they stopped. And saw her. Again. Lycia.She moved across the hall, a tray of goblets in her hands, serving guests with quiet poise. Her steps were graceful, almost regal. Too graceful for a servant.Damien’s gaze sharpened. A slow grin tugged at his lips. With naughty thoughts running through his head. “I want her as my maid of honor while I’m here,” he said, as if it were the most casual request in the world.Everyone on their table was a bit surprised by the request of Alpha Damien. I mean the request was quite unexpected. Cove’s voice sliced through the din, sharp and immediate. “That’s not happening Alpha Damien.”Damien’s goblet paused mid-air. His jaw clenched. He didn’t even glance at Lycia again. Morrigana, seated nearby, perked up like
Lucas walked back into the grand hall, jaw tight and unhappy. He had just come from the garden; where Seth’s voice had wrapped around him like silk. Every word had felt like a caress in disguise. A trap. Now, inside, laughter crashed like waves, wine shimmered; but it all felt distant. Blurred. Because Seth was still in his head. He slid into his seat, fingers curling around the table’s edge like he needed to anchor himself. One breath. Two breath. He was fine. He had to be. Then came the heat. The scent and presence of you know who. Seth. He took the seat beside him, much too close, their knees brushing. “You left in such a rush,” Seth said, voice a velvet blade. Lucas didn’t look at him. His spine stiffened. His face remained forward. He tried to focus. But none of it worked. Not when Seth watched him like a prey, patient and hungry. The hall continued burn bright. Spiced wine floated like temptation. Laughter erupted mostly from Damien, who was already mocking t
Lycia needed to see more.She brushed past a distracted guard, walking directly to the courtyard. “The whole damn courtyard feels like a theater rehearsal,” she muttered, slipping into the light.She almost numbed into a servant wobbling under a stack of velvet boxes.“Careful with that peasant,” Alpha Damien was said. “That Obsidian Talon alone could bankrupt your bloodline, crafted by Veyron the Elder himself.” He said boastfully, looking at everyone as Alpha Cove walked closely to himLycia arched a brow. “Must be nice to travel with your ego gift-wrapped.”“Well, well,” Damien said, polished boots crunching over the gravel as he spread his arms with theatrical grace. “Still broody. Still stern. Honestly, Cove, I’m starting to think you sleep standing up in a coffin.”He paused dramatically, tilting his head with mock concern.“Cove, you really should try smiling. Or drinking. Or, gods forbid…” he leaned in, voice lowering like a secret brushing Cove’s ear. “Getting laid. You lo
“Open the gates! Now!” a commanding voice echoed from the estate’s watchtower. “Move those damn carts, you fools!” barked another voice, the commander, his tone sharp with impatience. “Get those horses under control before they crush someone!” Warriors scrambled to clear the path as the carriage convoy rolled in, wheels grinding over cobblestone. "Ehh! That’s Vanor steel on the trim," one of the guards muttered under his breath. "Wait... Is it really him?" "Who?" The guard slapped the back of his companion’s head playfully, a grin tugging at his lips. “Idiot. You don’t know anything, do you? "Naigel, come on! You always hit me. That’s not fair" he called out, his voice gentle but laced with concern. “That’s the Silverstone Pack’s alpha. How do you not recognize him?” He chuckled, shaking his head. "I swear, sometimes I wonder if you're even paying attention." "I thought he never left the North..." Before the conversation could go any further, the commander stepped forwa
“And maybe they’re right. Maybe you’re right. I’m just a thief. But I do it to survive. To cater for Jack.” Her words sank into him like stone. Cove stepped forward, slow. Measured and Careful. “You know, people fear what they don’t understand,” he said. “You are an outsider. I think that’s pretty normal. And you’re stubborn.” She scoffed bitterly. “Yeah, well. That didn’t get me far, did it?” He sat down on the grass, a few feet away. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to see her clearly in the fading light. They sat in silence, the weight of it not entirely uncomfortable. For a second, the world narrowed to just this: two people who had no business understanding each other—yet somehow, did. Cove studied her face. The bruises under her eyes. The way her lips trembled. She looked like she was falling apart. And it shook him— and deep in his heart for some reason he knew how much he wanted to stop it. He surprised himself by asking, “Do you want to talk about h
He was shirtless, his body still sweaty from the intense training he was having. His developed muscles flexed, but he welcomed the ache. It kept his mind from wandering, or thinking about the problems he had. Life as an alpha isn't all that easy you know. Being in his garden wasn’t the usual thing for him. But he did not come here to take a walk. The garden was her place—it was quiet. Something about the silence gave him peace of mind. And he needed to clear his mind. Training had been his escape, his way of silencing the chaos swirling in his thoughts, and he didn’t want to do it at the training ground. He wanted to be away from everyone else, away from the drama. Then he heard it. A soft fragile sound that he knew was unusual. It didn't belong to the winds or the trees. It was a sobbing sound. Someone was sobbing. And he wondered who it was. He slowed his steps, brow furrowing as he followed the sound. And there; behind the raspberry bushes was someone, curled in on herse