A green field. A shining sun. A laughing family. This again. Someone is calling my name. Again and again and again. Leona. Leona. "Leona!" My eyes burst open. All I see is white. A bright light. I blink a few times. The brightness is subdued. Everything is hazy and fast and a blur of red and black. Someone is screaming. Screaming so loud and painfully that it scares me of the reason. The sound is raw and desperate, echoing around me like a wounded animal. What is happening? I try to move. To help. And then it hits me. Pain—searing, unrelenting pain—tears through my very being. I try to scream, only to find out I already am. "Leona," I hear it again, through all the chaos and confusion and pain. Like a thunder bolt in a war. My eyes are wet and blurry but through the haze, I see Noah. His darned mask is finally off but I can't make out his face. His hair is ruffled. His eyes are full of rage. His hands are around me. His mouth is moving. He is saying so
The double doors to the study creak slightly and I hear footsteps approaching. A young, pale man enters. He is dressed in a white robe and silver rimmed glasses. His short golden hair falls over his brows in messy curls. With his bright eyes focused on the piece of paper in his hands, he does not seem to notice I am out of bed as he slowly totters towards me. I let him continue until he sees my feet, pauses, looks up and blanches. "I—" I do not let him finish. Grabbing his collar, I pull his elbow and twist him, so that my sharp claws rest on the beating vein in his throat. The boy immediately goes lax, then two seconds later breathes again and raises his arms. He lets out a quick flurry of stutters that are far from words, let alone sentences.
My breath is caught up in my throat as Noah steps right in front of me. The black mask, which always concealed his face, is gone, revealing a visage I can scarcely believe exists outside of dreams. His hair is a mess of midnight, framing a face so flawlessly sculpted it seems divinely crafted. His blue eyes, in the sunshine, look deep and fathomless, mirroring the expanse of a twilight, star-lit sky and drawing me into their endless depths. His features are a chiselled to perfection, sharp yet soft, strength melded with ethereal beauty. The angles of his jawline, the perfection of his cheekbones and the gentle curve of his lips—all make him look like an ancient being. Every line, every shadow, makes me sigh in pleasure. My heart pounds within my chest, each beat a reminder of the magnetic pull I feel towards him. It's as if my very soul recogniz
The man whose face I had just beheld in awe is none other than the King of Utrif. My mate is the ruler of a realm where rogues like me are branded as criminals, hunted and despised. Noah lifts one brow—a picture of complete and utter nonchalance. "I'm—" a rogue. He's the king. This can't be. There has to be a mistake. His arms are crossed. "Yes?" I shake my head and turn to glass wall. The moment I reach the end I realise I have no lungs. No breathes. There is no air. The Sun Palace, people call the Palace of Utrif. And now I know why. The weather around may be gloomy and dark but the palace exterior is sunshine morphed into crystalline brilliance. Its exterior is crafted from a material that catches and reflects the light. Shining as though it is the sun itself. It is breathtaking, an architectural marv
The moment I understand what my mate was doing, I push him away. By that time my cheeks are already flushed pink and he steps back voluntarily. “Asshole,” I mutter under my breath, pinning him under my scorching glare. Void of emotion, unnerving and annoyingly empty eyes seem to be his best companions as he pins me back. "Tell me you do not like me. Tell me you hate me. But do not ever deny us of our bond." "I hate you." No hesitance. "I can live with that." The way he stands so proud and sure makes me want to do thing to my own mate that I would not even wish upon my enemy. "The bond," I seethe through gritted teeth, "between us is a mistake. It has to be. Because we don't make sense." A king can never be with a rogue. "Sense," he repeats, jaw clenching. "Enlighten me, my queen. Because?"
A very vivid image of Noah with a spike made of pure silver straight through his heart flashes in my mind. The cardinal wants him dead. The cardinal wants my mate dead. I have spent fourteen years of my life with the man. And when he wants someone dead. They die. "Leona," Noah says, very carefully. As though I am a delicate piece of art. "Shall I send for the healer, sire?" the guard says. "Yes. Now." I faintly hear the door opening and closing. Then Noah grabs both my arms like I will fall if he doesn't. He looks at me like I am a broken thing in need of fixing. Which is exactly what I am but that is another story. His touch is both a balm and a torment, a reminder of the vulnerability that clings to me like a shadow. The image of his impending death claws at my mi
“It was because of the wolfsbane." Noah sighs, running a hand through his hair. Something that does little to help him. "The kalhyi's claws were lined with wolfsbane. That is why your wound has still not healed. You were dying. And your wolf was already halfway to the other side." At his words I dive into my link. And I sense the truth of his words. My wolf breathes. Barely. But she is still not awake. A heavy weight settles right in the middle of my chest. "Your link was severed. You were mortal. And you were going to die. The only way in the moment was getting your wolf to live. Being the luna to the cardinal pack connects you to the land. With that comes power. You are my mate, but you were not the luna yet so—“ "You made me accept the mate bond," I say the unsaid words. Noah does not look me in the e
Rey and I were both attacked. We were both targeted. Which means that they were not just there because they were after me, but the treaty Rey mentioned Alpha Renier had with the rogues, it is at play here too. The gears in my head start to turn. Haze, someone who had no connection with rogues, suddenly joining them. Rogues, who had very rare contact with people ever since the rogue trials started, suddenly starting to attack. And finally the cardinal sending Valis to get me to kill the king, who the rogues previously would not even dream of coming close to. The wheels of something very dangerous are creaking here. Why are the rogues so confident all of a sudden? As I am scouring through every piece of information I have and connecting whatever estranged dots I can, my mate grows restless. "Answer me."