LUCIEN’S POV I stood at the kitchen counter, the early morning light spilling through the window, glinting off the coffee mug in my hand. The house was quiet, too quiet, the kind of stillness that pressed against my chest. Olivia was upstairs with her father, Alpha Aaron—had been since he showed up yesterday, his face carved with grief I knew too well. I’d caught their voices late last night, soft and strained, threading through walls. It warmed me, seeing her with him, the rift between them softening after years of jagged edges over Natalie’s disappearance. I’d known her ache for her mother since our marriage—three years of whispered hopes she’d let slip in the dark, her greatest wish a ghost I’d chased for her in secret. Every lead I’d followed—old pack trails, human towns, whispered rumors—crumbled to nothing, a void I couldn’t fill. I’d stopped years ago, convinced Natalie was dead, but I’d never told her, couldn’t bear to snuff out that flicker in her eyes.I sipped the coffee,
DAMIEN’S POV I slumped onto the rooftop floor beside Lucien, my back against the railing, the cold concrete biting through my suit. The champagne glass dangled in my hand, half-empty, and I stared at it, the bubbles fizzing like the mess in my head. Lucien sprawled next to me, his shirt unbuttoned joggers wrinkles, looking just as wrecked. We’d spilled it all—me begging him to take Olivia, him shoving her back at me—and now we sat, two alphas stumped, no clue how to dodge the heartbreak we’d dump on her if we both bailed.“Refill,” I muttered, tipping my glass toward the bottle between us.Lucien snorted, grabbing it, sloshing more into his own glass first. “You’re a lightweight, Fallenstar. Already slurring?”“Fuck off,” I shot back, smirking as he poured mine, the liquid splashing over the rim. “You’re the one swaying.”He grinned, sloppy and wide, and took a swig, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “What the hell do we do, man? Can’t both ditch her—she’d be a damn joke. L
OLIVIA’S POV I leaned against the bedroom doorframe, my arms crossed, watching Dad sip his water, his gray eyes softer than I’d seen in years. The afternoon light spilled through the window, dusting his salt-and-pepper hair with gold, and my chest warmed, a knot unraveling. We’d talked for hours—really talked—about Mom, about Claire, about the mess between us. He’d kicked Claire out, her affairs with Vladimir and half the council finally snapping his patience. More than that, he’d been hunting Mom all this time, years before I’d demanded it, chasing her shadow since the night she vanished from their bed. Relief washed through me, sharp and sweet—he hadn’t forgotten her, hadn’t stopped caring, despite the hate I’d thought he aimed at me. It wasn’t hate, he’d said, his voice cracking—it was her face in mine, her laugh in my laugh, tearing him open every time he looked at me. He’d thought she’d abandoned us, but now he saw it—something bigger, something hidden, had stolen her away. We’
Olivia's Pov: I barely had time to brace for it before his fist nearly snapped my neck in two with a gut-wrenching blow as I fell hard to the ground, tears welling on my face. “You stupid bitch!", he yelled, his face contorted with rage. He was in one of his moods again, the occasional periods where his wolf starts to lose control and he tears up anything in his way, more than often, I'm usually the one in the way of his tantrums. My hands shook violently as the porcelain cup in my hands hit the ground, shattering to pieces in an echoing screech. At the sound, Lucien lunged for me, his foot stamping hard at my ribs knocking the air out of me. I gasped as I struggled to breathe, my small hands tightening around my chest, but he wasn't done. He grabbed me from the marble floor, throwing me on top of the dining table, his fists balled, eyebrows scrunched in seething anger. Each blow punctuated his lupine rage; he wasn't going to stop; he just kept hitting me across the face
Damon's Pov: I hate the rain, I thought as I glared out at the rain-soaked trees, droplets of water sliding down the window pane like tears. I turned away from the downpour seeking something to distract myself with, but the cloud outside seemed to have dampened my mind as memories came rushing down to me. Laughter, music, champagne toasts. The Wolvenstar family preferred to live within nature itself. Thus, we lived in a mansion on the outskirts of a forest. That way, whenever we shifted we could run straight into the forest, our real home. Today was the day my eldest brother, Mark, had bonded; he laughed loudly at the head of the table as his mate, Charlotte, now Wolvenstar, smiled timidly as she sat on his lap. Poor girl, my brother would be the death of her soon enough. The house was two hundred years old, a legacy built on sugar and spices; their family was one of the elite of the Werewolves in New Orleans high society; they were happy , everyone feasting, clinking glas
Olivia's Pov: Two months. I had been divorced and for the first time in ages, I felt young and I took full advantage of it, I spent my time clubbing at night and painting at my gallery by day transferring my feelings onto canvas including my recent one being that of a dark haired Lycan, a gash tearing across one of his eyes. Those were things that I didn't really had the time to do when I was with Lucien, he was an uptight guy who didn't really fancy the idea of his mate running around all over New Orleans. He was quite paranoid for a Lycan. I didn't really get him, sometimes he was a sweet guy, dolling me up with presents, taking me out to see a movie once in a while, you would think he was a nearly perfect husband, but then there were the other times. The times when he would lose control to his wolf, werewolves were supposed to control their wolves to their will, not the other way around, it wasn't exactly an easy thing to do, it had took me five years to take full control o
Olivia's pov: The bonding itself was about to begin, although the entire ceremony traditionally starts with a member of each of the nine aristocraté families blessing the Werewolf community for the coming days till the next ceremony.It was an ancient rite that had endured till now. That was the boring part though, the interesting part was about to begin as murmurs and whispers amongst the crowd grew louder. “I bet a hundred dollars Amelia Blackwater would bond with Diego Porter", Ben grinned. " Wait”, I laughed," people bet over this? “ " It raises the stakes “, he said. His face became serious." I bet you would bond tonight “. I rolled my eyes as he held my face in his hands. " The stakes are against you, darling," he said, smiling again, “but please don't make me lose a thousand dollars," he pleaded. “A thousand !", I exclaimed as I glared at him, “i can't believe you just threw away a thousand bucks, you idiot". He leaned back, breathing deeply as he wriggled his
OLIVIA’s POVThe air still buzzed with tension as I stumbled away from the podium. My chest heaved, my legs wobbly from the lingering effects of the wolfsbane. I barely registered the gasps and murmurs around me. All I could think about was them. Lucien.The Demon Alpha.I had bonded with two mates. Two powerful mates.My palms grew clammy, and I clutched at the nearest pillar for support. The weight of their gazes bore into me—Lucien’s a storm of rage and resentment, while the Demon Alpha’s was cold, calculated, and terrifying possessive.Before I could steady my breath, the Demon Alpha stepped forward. His towering frame sliced through the crowd like a blade, and his voice, smooth yet commanding, cut through the whispers. “She is mine.”The words echoed in the hall, silencing every conversation. My heart stopped. Lucien surged forward, his growl reverberating through the room. “No. She’s mine.”I flinched as the tension crackled between them. Their energy filled the space, suffoc
OLIVIA’S POV I leaned against the bedroom doorframe, my arms crossed, watching Dad sip his water, his gray eyes softer than I’d seen in years. The afternoon light spilled through the window, dusting his salt-and-pepper hair with gold, and my chest warmed, a knot unraveling. We’d talked for hours—really talked—about Mom, about Claire, about the mess between us. He’d kicked Claire out, her affairs with Vladimir and half the council finally snapping his patience. More than that, he’d been hunting Mom all this time, years before I’d demanded it, chasing her shadow since the night she vanished from their bed. Relief washed through me, sharp and sweet—he hadn’t forgotten her, hadn’t stopped caring, despite the hate I’d thought he aimed at me. It wasn’t hate, he’d said, his voice cracking—it was her face in mine, her laugh in my laugh, tearing him open every time he looked at me. He’d thought she’d abandoned us, but now he saw it—something bigger, something hidden, had stolen her away. We’
DAMIEN’S POV I slumped onto the rooftop floor beside Lucien, my back against the railing, the cold concrete biting through my suit. The champagne glass dangled in my hand, half-empty, and I stared at it, the bubbles fizzing like the mess in my head. Lucien sprawled next to me, his shirt unbuttoned joggers wrinkles, looking just as wrecked. We’d spilled it all—me begging him to take Olivia, him shoving her back at me—and now we sat, two alphas stumped, no clue how to dodge the heartbreak we’d dump on her if we both bailed.“Refill,” I muttered, tipping my glass toward the bottle between us.Lucien snorted, grabbing it, sloshing more into his own glass first. “You’re a lightweight, Fallenstar. Already slurring?”“Fuck off,” I shot back, smirking as he poured mine, the liquid splashing over the rim. “You’re the one swaying.”He grinned, sloppy and wide, and took a swig, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “What the hell do we do, man? Can’t both ditch her—she’d be a damn joke. L
LUCIEN’S POV I stood at the kitchen counter, the early morning light spilling through the window, glinting off the coffee mug in my hand. The house was quiet, too quiet, the kind of stillness that pressed against my chest. Olivia was upstairs with her father, Alpha Aaron—had been since he showed up yesterday, his face carved with grief I knew too well. I’d caught their voices late last night, soft and strained, threading through walls. It warmed me, seeing her with him, the rift between them softening after years of jagged edges over Natalie’s disappearance. I’d known her ache for her mother since our marriage—three years of whispered hopes she’d let slip in the dark, her greatest wish a ghost I’d chased for her in secret. Every lead I’d followed—old pack trails, human towns, whispered rumors—crumbled to nothing, a void I couldn’t fill. I’d stopped years ago, convinced Natalie was dead, but I’d never told her, couldn’t bear to snuff out that flicker in her eyes.I sipped the coffee,
DAMIEN’S POVI gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles whitening as the engine purred beneath me, the road stretching toward the burial ground. The black suit clung to me, sharp and tailored, the fabric cool against my skin despite the heat rising in my chest. My hair fell forward, one strand brushing my eye, and I left it there, a shield against the world I was about to face. Daiki’s voice rang in my ears from earlier, his broad hand on my shoulder, his tone urgent. “You don’t have to go, Master Damien. Pay your respects quiet—here, at home. They’ll tear you apart out there.”I’d shrugged him off, my jaw tight, and climbed into the car anyway. The Hales deserved more than silence. Thomas had dragged me from the woods at sixteen, blood-soaked and half-dead, my family’s slaughter still wet on my hands. Elena had stitched my wounds, fed me, their home a refuge when the packs turned their backs. I owed them this, even if it meant facing the fire. The clearing came into view, a somber c
AALPHA AARON’S POVI slumped in the worn leather chair of my study, the late afternoon sun bleeding through the cracked blinds, casting jagged stripes across the cluttered desk. Papers sprawled before me—maps marked with red Xs, scribbled notes, dead-end leads—all nine months of chasing shadows for Natalie. My fingers curled around the glass of bourbon, the amber liquid trembling as I lifted it to my lips, the burn a fleeting distraction from the ache gnawing at my chest. Olivia’s words echoed, sharp and unyielding: Find Mom, or we’re done. She didn’t know I’d been searching long before she demanded it, years stretching back to that night when my world splintered.The memory clawed its way up, vivid and cruel. Natalie and I had tucked Olivia into bed, her small frame curled under the quilt, her breaths evening out as I finished the last page of her favorite story—The Wolf and the Star. Natalie’s voice had softened the tale, her hand brushing Olivia’s hair, a quiet smile on her lips.
OLIVIA’S POVI sat on the edge of the bed, my legs tucked beneath me, watching Lucien’s chest rise and fall in shallow, uneven breaths. The late afternoon sun slanted through the curtains, painting his face in soft gold, the scratch marks I’d left on his cheek still stark against his pale skin. He slept now, his body limp, drained from the curse that had seized him hours ago. Zypher had roared through him, pinning me to the wall, his hands tight around my throat—not him, not really, just the beast Archimedes had forced into him. I’d clawed him back, my nails drawing blood, and he’d crumpled, the violence fading as he sank into this numb, paralyzed state. I pulled the blanket higher, tucking it around his shoulders, my fingers brushing his damp hair.I leaned down, pressing my lips to his forehead, the warmth of his skin grounding me. “You’re always in my heart,” I whispered, my voice barely a breath, knowing he couldn’t hear. “This love—it’s not dying, not ever.” My chest tightened,
ALARIC’S POV I leaned back in the leather chair, the dim glow of the fireplace casting flickering shadows across my study. The air smelled of smoke and whiskey, the glass in my hand half-empty, its burn a faint echo of the satisfaction simmering in my chest. Thomas Hale was dead—his wife, his daughter, his grandson, all gone. I’d watched the flames swallow their house, the crackle of timber and the screams fading into the night. No bodies left, no graves to mourn—just ash. Damien would feel it, that hollow stab of loss, and it fueled me, a dark joy curling through my veins. The Hales weren’t the first—his housekeeper, an old woman who’d fussed over him since he was seventeen, had bled out under my knife years back. Servants, friends, business partners—anyone he let close, I’d taken, leaving him alone, a king with no court. He deserved it, after what he’d done.The door creaked, and Creed Hunters stepped in, his boots thudding against the hardwood. His lean frame filled the doorway,
OLIVIA’S POVI perched on the edge of the bed, my knees drawn up, staring at Lucien as he lay sprawled across the sheets. His chest rose and fell, slow and ragged, the scratch marks I’d left on his cheek still red against his skin. My nails had brought him back—snapped him out of Zephyr’s grip—and now he rested, exhaustion pulling him under. The room was quiet, the late afternoon sun filtering through the curtains, casting a soft glow over his face. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, my mind churning, torn in two directions I couldn’t untangle. Nine months had slipped by since the mate bonds locked me to Damien and Lucien. Weekends with Damien, every Saturday and Sunday tangled in his sheets at the Fallenstar’s Home, learning him piece by piece. Everyone feared him, whispered about the blood on his hands—his parents, his whole family, slaughtered by his own claws. They called him a monster, a killer who’d snuffed them out to claim power. But I’d seen him wake gasping from nig
LUCIEN’S POVI stood in the living room, the afternoon light spilling through the tall windows of the mansion, casting long shadows across the hardwood. My joggers hung low on my hips, the black singlet clinging to my chest, and the coffee mug warmed my hand as I took a slow sip. Olivia was due back today—Monday, her weekday with me—and my blood hummed with anticipation. Nine months she’d been splitting herself between me and Damien, weekdays here, weekends there, a dance I’d grown used to but never liked. I didn’t know for sure what she did with him, didn’t ask, but I felt it—her body carried his echo sometimes, faint and infuriating. That first hickey, two months into this mess, had been proof enough. Since then, I’d buried the question, let it fester in silence. She came back to me ready, always, her heat a wildfire I couldn’t resist.The curse gnawed at me, though, sharper now than ever. Zephyr—my Lycan half—clawed inside, restless, violent, a storm I couldn’t tame. Maximus, my a