Elara's POVThe silence in my room was deafening; the weight of my thoughts was my only companion. I sat cross-legged on the small cot, my fingers tracing the rough fibers in the blanket, staring at the wall.No different was Andrew's pack from Grimshade, I thought sourly. Cruelty, it would appear, goes wherever I go. The laughter from earlier still rang in my ears, each jeer slicing deeper than I should let it.Part of me wondered where I got the right from, caring in the first place. This wasn't my home, it wasn't my people. Yet their words still got under my skin. The way they looked at me though-like I was something dirty, something less … it was too familiar. It brought me back to Grimshade, to nights spent nursing bruises and swallowing my pride.Was I better off here?My door suddenly flew open, banging backward against the wall, sending me upright; my heart shot up in my throat, as I clenched my fists ready for another attack.Andrew leaned on the doorway, casual in his pose,
Elara's POVI shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat of the Jeep, as it continued to bump its way along the dirt trail. The silence was a thick, heavy hanging between Andrew and I, broken only by the sound of crunching tires over gravel and the occasional howl of wind through the trees. Greg sat in the back quiet, his eyes scanning across the woods as if anticipating danger to leap from the appear at any moment.I still didn't know why I was here.Andrew said it was training, but what kind of training required dragging me to the edge of the pack's territory with no warning and no explanation? He hadn't spoken much since I'd met him downstairs-just barked orders at Greg and tossed me into the Jeep like some kind of inconvenient luggage."Why am I even here?" I finally asked, breaking the silence.Andrew didn't look at me. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white. "You'll see soon enough.""That's not an answer."He glanced at me then, his sharp eyes glinting wi
Elara's POVMy ears rang as I tried to focus on Andrew's voice yelling my name. My chest heaved with my gasping for breath as my heart pounded against my ribs as if it would burst from them at any moment. Before I could wrap my mind around what had just happened, they came.Someone darted toward us with inhuman speed, followed by two more figures. The attackers didn't hesitate—they lunged with snarls that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up."Stay behind me!" Andrew barked, his voice sharp and commanding as he moved in front of me.Greg was already shifting, his body changing as fur erupted along his arms. Claws extended from his fingertips, glinting in the moonlight. Andrew followed suit, but he didn't transform fully yet, it was just as swift and deadly. The air was thick with the scent of power and aggression, a mix of Andrew's dominance and Greg's vicious anger.I had little time to watch the power they exhibited. One attacker dove directly for me, and I barely dodged, my
Andrew's POVCarrying Elara in my arms felt like carrying the world's most fragile treasure. She was too still, her body limp against mine. Blood seeped through my shirt where her head rested, warm and sticky, and I could not tell if it was hers or mine. Every step to the medical center seemed like eternity, yet I moved faster than I ever thought possible.“Move!" I barked as we approached the main hall. Pack members scrambled out of my way, their faces pale as they caught sight of the blood.Greg was right behind me, his claws still out and his breathing heavy. "We've got to get her stabilized," he said, his voice tense."I know," I snapped, though I didn't mean to. My chest felt too tight, my head too full of the memory of her losing consciousness in my arms.As we burst through the doors of the medical center, Mirabel, the head healer, was already waiting, her sharp eyes assessing the situation."Get her on the table, now!" she commanded, her voice rising above the chaotic situatio
Elara's POVMy head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, heavy and slow. Voices murmured somewhere nearby, but I couldn't make out the words. My eyelids felt like they were weighed down with something heavy, but I forced them open, blinking against the harsh light.The first thing I was aware of was the scent-antiseptic and herbs mingling in the air. It hit me like a punch to the face, and it didn't take long to figure out where I was. A hospital. No, not just any hospital-a pack infirmary. The faint markings of the crescent moon symbol etched into the beams above confirmed it.What the hell happened?I tried to sit up, but pain ripped through my side, sharp and wicked. A gasp escaped my lips before I could stop it, and my hands instinctively pressed against my ribs. That's when I noticed something else: I wasn't alone.In the corner of the room, hardly seen under the dim light of the lamps hanging from the ceiling, was a figure. First, I had thought him to be one of the healers, but
Andrew's POVI caught her scent before I saw her. That faint trace of lavender and something totally hers—something I couldn't name but had burned into my memory. It pulled me like a magnet to the hallway outside her room, an invisible hold I couldn’t break even if I tried.Elara.Two days. Two damn days since she'd been discharged, and it was like she'd vanished. Sure, the healers had said she needed rest, but avoiding me? That wasn’t part of the prescription. And she was avoiding me—I was sure of it.The weight of unanswered questions bore down on me as I leaned against the cold stone wall, debating whether to knock. My knuckles hovered an inch from the door, hesitation holding me back. What if she didn't want to see me? What if she had her reasons, reasons I wouldn’t like? But just as I decided to let the moment pass, the door creaked open, and there she was.Her hand rested lightly on the doorframe, her lips slightly parted in surprise. Her hair framed her face, loose strands catc
Elara's POVThe kiss was a shock-a storm of emotions I hadn't prepared for. One second, I was standing in my room, trying to ignore Andrew's piercing gaze, and the next, his mouth was on mine, searing and unapologetic. My first instinct was to push him away. My hands pressed against his chest, meeting the firm resistance of his muscles, but then something changed.My fingers betrayed me. Instead of shoving him back, they curled upward, tangling in his hair. His lips moved against mine with a hunger that pulled me in, and before I knew it, I was leaning into him, my body flush against his.The sound that growled from Andrew was low in his throat, vibrating between us, sending a shiver down my spine. His hands had been cradling my face with surprising gentleness; now, they moved lower, skating the sides of my torso until settling firmly onto my hips. Bold, yes, but not rough; a touch possessive in the most scary yet thrilling ways.I gasped into his mouth as his fingers tightened, pullin
Elara's POVAndrew's lips were on mine again before I could think. His hands cupped my face, but his body pressed against mine told me everything I needed to know. This wasn't just a kiss; it was an exposition. Every part of me responded, from the trembling in my legs to the heat pooling low in my stomach.When he groaned against my lips, I felt it everywhere. My breath hitched as his hips pressed forward, the hard length of him brushing against my stomach. A rush of warmth spread through me, and I couldn't stop the small sound of pleasure that escaped my throat.I pulled him closer, fingers tangling in his hair as he deepened the kiss. He tasted of the mint tea I knew he always had in the evenings, yet there was something else, more intoxicating and darker."Elara," he breathed against my mouth, his voice hoarse, "I can't—" He broke off, his forehead resting against mine as his hands slid down my arms. His touch left a trail of fire in its wake, and I couldn't bring myself to stop hi
Elara’s POVBranches clawed at my arms as we pushed through the forest, the moonlight barely cutting through the thick canopy overhead. My lungs burned. Every breath tasted like smoke and blood.Andrew’s weight leaned heavier and heavier against me, his steps sluggish, and uneven. He hadn’t spoken in minutes. I could feel the fever radiating off him.“Just a little further,” I whispered, mostly to myself. “Come on, stay with me.”It was crazy how our positions switched. The main reason why he was caught in this mess is to help me. Now, I was the one doing the helping.Luckily that stupid beast left after doing it's work leaving me with a very sick Andrew. I didn't know how far Michael and Lora had to go in order to get help.Noticing he hadn’t responded, I looked down as his grip on me loosened.“Andrew?” I stopped and turned, my heart hammering. “Hey. Look at me.”He swayed. His eyes blinked, unfocused. Then he crumpled.“No—no, no, no.” I dropped with him, catching his head before i
Andrew’s POVI didn’t think anything could shake me after everything we’d been through—Elara’s capture, the cult, the blade meant for my heart. But the thing crawling out of that seal wasn’t from this world.It was born from nightmares. A monster made of shadows and dark moon magic.It stretched as it rose, black tendrils spilling off its limbs like smoke, jaws clicking with bone and fangs. Its eyes locked onto us, glowing red-hot—rage, hunger, purpose.It was like it had a personal issue to settle with us.“Elara,” I said, backing up slowly, “we need to move.”She didn’t answer. She looked dazed, one hand clutching her chest like it hurt to breathe.“Elara,” I tried again, louder this time.She blinked hard, snapped back, and turned to me. “I can’t feel it.”“What?”“The bond. It’s gone.” Her voice cracked. “I—I think Jacob finished the ritual.”Shit. That explained the weakness in her posture, the pale cast to her skin. We didn't have time. The last thing I want is to be caught in t
Andrew’s POVElara didn’t stab me.Despite my unwavering trust in her, I could've sworn she wanted to gut me with the knife.She stabbed the cultist to my left—clean through the ribs.The robed bastard choked on his own breath, eyes wide, blood pooling from his mouth as he collapsed.And just like that, everything just seemed to go to shit as commotion broke out around us.Screams rang out in the still air. Chants siezed as every head turned and eyes snapped open towards our direction.Someone shouted, “She’s turned!”I didn’t need more time to think. My chains were half-broken the moment they stopped chanting. It seemed like they were using magic to contain me. The pulse in my chest hadn’t stopped. It was like a second heartbeat, wild and growing louder in my ear.I wrenched my right arm free with a roar, ignoring the tear of metal against skin. The pain meant nothing anymore. The moment Elara turned that blade, I knew—we were going to live or die together.“Elara!” I shouted.She s
Elara’s POVThe blade felt colder than it should have.Slick handle. Sharp edge.They’d placed it in my hand like it belonged there. Like I’d been born to wield it.My fingers closed around it on instinct, but my heart—fates, my heart refused. It pounded hard enough I thought it might split open my chest.Andrew’s eyes locked on mine, blood dripping down the curve of his jaw. He didn’t speak. Didn’t beg. Just looked at me, like he always had—steady, unflinching, and maddeningly full of love.Kieran stood behind him, watching like a predator admiring his own trap as Jacob came around to stand beside him.“This is the moment,” Jacob said, his voice low and coaxing. “Where the universe balances itself. You break the anchor, Elara, and disaster becomes your throne. You hesitate… and it becomes your grave.”I stared at Andrew. His breathing was shallow. His shirt clung to his chest, soaked in sweat and blood. And his mark—it pulsed like it had a heartbeat of its own through his torn shirt.
Andrew’s POVThe chanting started slow.Low. Rhythmic. Like a heartbeat echoing in the belly of a beast.I sat with my back to the cold stone wall, chains digging into my wrists. My blood had dried hours ago, stiff and sticky against my skin, but the real pain wasn’t in the cuts or the bruises.It was inside.The mark on my chest that recently appeared burned like it had just been carved. A deep, pulsing throb that synced perfectly with their damn chants. Every beat made it flare hotter. Sharper.I gritted my teeth, flexing against the restraints. Useless.They’d done their homework.Silver links.Wolfsbane laced through the shackles.But they didn’t know everything. They didn’t understand what the mark meant—not really. Not what it did to a person. To me.To Elara.I shut my eyes, trying to hold her face in my mind. Before the rituals. Before the chaos. Before I let my own pain turn me into something she couldn’t reach.And then I heard his voice.Kieran.“I’d say it’s good to see yo
Lora's POVThe fire wasn’t normal. It wasn’t the kind that crackled in fireplaces or flickered in campfires.It was alive, red, deep and pulsing like blood. It didn’t just burn. It seemed to breathe.I stood at the edge of it, frozen, and unable to do a thing while I watched it wrap around her. Elara. Her skin was streaked with ash, her hair wild and tangled, eyes wide and wet with something too painful to name. She wasn’t screaming.She was whispering.“Lora…”Her voice barely reached me through the heat. But I heard it. Goddess, I felt it.“Please…”The flames swallowed her whole.I woke up screaming.I shot upright, lungs dragging for air like I’d been drowning. Sweat drenched my skin, my nightshirt clinging to me like a second layer of skin. My heart slammed against my ribs, and for a second, I wasn’t even sure where I was.The dream still clung to me like smoke. It was thick, choking, and inescapable.“Elara,” I whispered into the dark.I didn’t bother grabbing a robe. I rushed
Elara’s POVThe drums pounded through the courtyard like war cries. The smell of burning herbs and ash filled the air, thick and heavy, like it had a weight of its own. The cultists circled the altar, chanting words older than the land we stood on. Each voice layered over the next, rising into a sound that didn’t feel human.And above it all, I heard him.“Do you still feel it,” Andrew’s voice rasped, “or was it always a lie?”I froze. But before that—Before those words crawled into my bones and made my breath catch—I saw him.They’d chained him to the old execution post, like something out of a nightmare. His shirt was torn, blood streaked across his ribs, and his lip had split open. But he was upright. Breathing. Still defiant, even with all the blood on his skin and the metal biting into his wrists.Andrew.It was the first time I’d seen him since I was taken. Really seen him. Not in visions. Not in dreams. Not in those fleeting, aching flashes I told myself weren’t real.And go
Andrew’s POVThe robe stank. Like sweat, damp straw, and the kind of filth that clings to men who’ve given up being clean. It clung to my shoulders, itchy and rough, like it knew I didn’t belong. I hunched forward as I walked, mimicking the limping shuffle of the other prisoners. My wrists were bound in iron cuffs—fake ones Michael rigged to snap open with a twist—and my face was smeared with ash to cover my scent.It was raining when I arrived. Not a downpour, just a cold mist that turned everything to mud. The kind of weather that crept under your skin and made you wonder if leaving the comfort of your home was worth it.I passed through the first line of guards with my head down and my mouth shut. The cult didn’t say much—just grunted, pointed, and pushed us along. Most of the others were actual rogues. Desperate men. Broken ones. I could hear them breathing hard, coughing, mumbling to themselves. None of them looked at me.Good. I didn’t want their attention. I wanted hers.The
Elara’s POVThe torches burned low, casting long shadows against the stone walls. Their heat didn’t reach me. I was freezing, barefoot, and dressed in something between a robe and a rag, the sleeves torn, the hem dragging along the damp ground. My hands were tied behind my back, wrists rubbed raw from the ropes. The metallic scent of blood hung heavy in the air, mingling with something older. It made my insides clench as the scent assaulted me.I stood in the center of a circle etched into the floor, the grooves filled with something black and slick. I didn't know if it was blood, or something worse. Candles lined the edges. Hooded figures chanted in low, guttural tones that made my stomach twist.Kieran stood just beyond the circle, face painted in red and gold symbols, his smile as sharp as a blade.“Why are you doing this?” I hissed.His grin widened. “You know why.”“I don’t,” I snapped. “You keep saying I’m the key, the vessel, the… whatever. But I’m just me. You’ve got the wro