After Lyra's mother disappeared when she was a baby, she became the unwanted of the pack. When her wolf didn't emerge during the full moon of her 18th birthday, her dreams were torn from her. What hope did she have for a better future? It's only when she meets Alpha Veyron that she begins to understand fate had so much more in store for her. CHAPTER PREVIEW: Lyra swallowed hard, her throat dry, but the words escaped her lips before she could stop them. “I’m a reject,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “The man who was supposed to be my mate chose my sister instead.” His palms slammed the wall beside her head as his roar blew the hair out of her face. Lyra flinched, recoiling. His growl deepened, reverberating through the small space. “Whoever rejected you is irrelevant,” he snarled, his voice dripping with finality. “You. Belong. To me.”
View MoreLyra The storm abated, moonlight bathing Lyra as she lowered Garrick to the cot. She had dismissed the signs that something was wrong as alcohol effects but as she positioned him, the blanket slipped. Swollen and inflamed, verdigris veins branched out from the bite wound, glowing like lava beneath his skin.Her breath caught, the panic rising in her chest. What had happened? Why was this happening to him? Moonlight illuminated the severity of his condition.Garrick let out a strained groan, his breathing faint and irregular. No! Garrick! She had made another friend, more proof she should stay. Proof she actually belonged. He was kind and funny. Death couldn’t have him! Lyra pressed her hands over the wound, her heart racing. She didn’t know what she was doing. Couldn’t explain why she did it. Her fingers trembled as she wished—no, demanded—for him to heal. Desperation surged within her, emotions overwhelming her reason. What are you doing? Logic screamed. You need to run for hel
LyraLyra raced to keep up with Garrick, rain falling in torrential sheets. Grass whipped against her legs. The storm drowned out everything, as Garrick veered left, heading toward the base of a rocky hill. The grass was thick here, shoulder-high, but Garrick never slowed. He pushed through the dense growth to a patch of large rocks nestled within the hill’s slope. A small path ran between them, only visible if you were looking for it.“Welcome to the man cave.” Garrick said, glancing at her over his shoulder. His lips twitched in a wry smile.Lyra blinked, confused at first, but then he stepped aside to reveal the entrance. A narrow opening hid behind jagged rocks.He motioned for her to follow him inside, a welcome relief from the downpour. Garrick lit a small lantern hanging on a wall.Lyra admired the inner cave. The walls were made of sparkling rocks that caught the light, casting a soft glow over the dirt floor. Along one wall, crates were stacked, and a makeshift cot lay agai
LyraLyra ran. Garrick close behind her, taking long, deliberate strides. Without stopping, Lyra dared to glance back. The cats chased them, claw swipes slowing them down as they barely missed Garrick’s back again and again.“Apparently, I should’ve brought more catnip.“ Garrick yelled to her and she glanced at his face to see that damnable smile had returned. “Gonna have to shift.”He skidded to a stop, turning to face the snarling creatures on their heels. The three cats fanned out in a semicircle. Their tails lashing as they prepared to strike.Lyra stumbled but forced herself forward, knowing she was only a hindrance if she stayed. She risked a glance over her shoulder j
LyraLyra sprawled on the ground, her hands scrambling against the damp earth. A sleek wild cat, the size of a german shepard, circled her. Its eyes glowed, an eerie mix of gold and green.The creature's fur blended seamlessly with local vegetation, a muted, tawny color that made it hard to see until it had been nearly on top of her. It shimmered unnaturally in the rain, shifting in ways that weren’t natural, jerking in and out of sync with reality. Scarlike markings marred its muscles, tracing pulsating, runic patterns through its fur.It eyed Lyra as if she were a bird with a clipped wing. It’s trill was contemplative, as if questioning her.Lyra’s stomach twisted with dread as the creature drew closer, lunging in
LyraAfter Veyron left with the Mistress of Shadows, a quiet routine replaced the tension. The maids had warmed to her, their smiles becoming more genuine with each passing day. They shared whispered laughter and exchanged stories while they worked. The camaraderie, unlike anything she had ever experienced, eased Lyra’s nerves and she found herself slowly becoming part of their rhythm.Each task gently reassured her that she belonged. The sound of soft chatter, the warmth of the kitchen fire, and the fresh scent of linen brought joy to the simple life she was living.As gentle rain pattered on the roof, a relaxing rhythm filled the kitchen. The maids chopped vegetables and stirred pots, voices rising in light chatter. The scent of fresh bread and simm
LyraLyra rocked the baby, her arms curled around the tiny, warm body.A faint breeze stirred the sheer curtains, carrying the scent of moonflower. She hummed a low, soothing lullaby full of love. The baby cooed soft, and contented.Lyra stroked delicate curls away from her face, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. Her heart swelled with adoration so fierce, and unbreakable, it stung her eyes. She would do anything for her. Would tear the world apart to keep her safe.I will die for her.Something is wrong.Lyra glanced down at the baby once more. Lifting her head, Lyra looked ar
VeyronThe battlefield was silent now, save for the wind dragging the scent of blood through the air. The dead lay where they had fallen, crimson staining the earth, bodies broken beneath the carnage of war. Veyron exhaled slowly, surveying the ruin before him. Another victory. Another graveyard.Will you destroy me too?Her voice cut through the quiet, unbidden. The words did not belong here among the corpses, yet they were louder than the dying gasps of the fallen.Veyron’s hands curled into fists at his sides. Destroy? The idea was absurd. She was his mate. He would claim, subdue, possess—never destroy. And
LyraLyra blinked. “What?”Kyline spoke slowly. “Your aunt Maris had visions, though not as complete or clear as your mother’s.”Lyra froze, her breath catching in her throat. “My mother?”Kyline nodded, her face grave. “Yes, your mother saw that you would play an important role in the prophecy to help bring back the Moon Goddess. That’s why we were sent there.”Lyra’s pulse thundered in her ears. She had spent so long mourning a mother she barely remembered, never knowing what secrets had died with her. What else was her aunt hiding?“Why?” she rasped. “Why me?”
LyraLyra curled in on herself, knees drawn tight to her chest as she lay on his bed. Her skin crackled with the memory of Veyron’s uninvited touch, imprinted on her skin. It was too quiet, his presence clinging to every shadow, every breath she pulled in. His untamed dark spice scent coiled around her like invisible chains.He was gone. She should feel safe now. But safety had never been an option. Not once in her life. And not with him.Veyron caged her spirit with his words and body beneath his. He took what he wanted without hesitation. He hadn’t needed her permission. Hadn’t cared. And yet, she had wanted him. That undeniable, treacherous pull still burned through her veins, making her crave what she should fear.
ElysiaEvery witch, no matter their origin, carries the marks of their craft; glowing eyes, hair flowing like a waterfall, and porcelain skin. Deep in Mount Everstrike’s belly, the Matriarchs of all Covenkind circled the cavern’s hollow. The pure power that flowed through them intensified these witches’ magical features. Their eyes lit the darkness, dispelling the need for torches.A single woman stood in the center. Her ebony hair hung around her heart shaped face, obscuring her ocean blue eyes. Her shoulders slumped as she stared at the ground. Elysia stood on trial and she knew there was only one way it could end.Sabel waved her hand dismissively. "Seriously?" she scoffed. "You expect me to see our beloved sister—" Pointing at Elysia, her voice rose in disbelief. "—as a villain?" Indistinct voices murmured among the women as they scrutinized her with a variety of expressions ranging from pity to accusation. Elysia fought the urge to call out to them for compassion. She could beg ...
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