Lyra
After 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 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
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 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 again
Lyra 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
LyraThe sun had barely risen when they finally made it back to the den. The aftermath of the storm clung to the world, the ground still slick and muddy beneath their feet. Garrick was still naked, carrying his garments in one hand. No one seemed to notice.And Lyra’s mind was a whirlwind of its own. Wild and untamed healing power had coursed through her unlike anything she ever felt before. The energy, tied to her so deeply, healed Garrick before her very eyes... It was more than just magic. It was her.But what did it mean? And more importantly, how could she hide what she had done? The whole experience, from the storm to the cave, left her more empowered and vulnerable than she’d ever felt before, even if Garrick had no memory of what had happened. What if Veyron found out? If anyone knew what she had done, it wouldn’t take them long to trace her back to her pack. And Veyron thought he had wiped them from the earth. Would he kill her or would he forgive her for infiltrating his ho
VeyronThe howling wind rattled the windows in Veyron’s meeting chamber, where war plans spread across the table carrying the scent of parchment and ink. Veyron scanned the scattered maps, trying to piece the clues together. The attacks from other packs had grown more frequent, and vicious. What were they after? Considering the majority of attacks happened during the full moon, it was obvious their wolves were impelling them.Garrick entered. Veyron pivoted, his steely gaze meeting him.His delta inclined his head, “Welcome home, Alpha.”Veyron gave a curt nod, stepping away from the window. “What news?”“The wild cats are becoming more aggressive,” Garrick began, his voice tense. “They came within the den’s outer walls. Their movements were unnatural—eyes glowing, claws sharper. Never seen their breed before. When I arrived in the gardens, they had the new maid cornered.”Veyron’s eyes hardened at the mention of his mate. “What was she doing out there?” he snapped.He held back the
LyraThe low murmur of voices filled the dining hall, blending with the quiet clatter of plates and the occasional scrape of a chair. Lyra checked the settings, ensuring everything was in place for the evening meal. She had spent the day drowning in tasks, grateful for the distraction, yet her nerves frayed with the knowledge that soon, she would have to face him.She hadn't seen Veyron since he nearly took her. Since she felt the full weight of his hunger, his need to possess her, to break her, leaving her trembling in his bed.The great doors opened, and the atmosphere in the hall changed instantly. The easy conversation among warriors stilled to a hushed awareness, eyes turning toward the entrance. Veyron entered, his broad frame cutting through the room like a blade through silk. He moved with that effortless command, the kind that required no announcement, no force. Lyra stiffened. She had been trained to blend in, to work with her head down and her hands busy. But she remembere
LyraWhen Lyra reached Veyron’s chair, his attention pinned her in place. She had known he was watching her, but it was different feeling it at such close range.His fingers curled slightly against the wood of the chair, the muscle in his jaw tightening. His gaze darkened. His wolf surged, fighting for the surface, and she felt the deep, rumbling growl before she heard it, vibrating through her core and flushing her with pleasurable warmth.Veyron’s voice was calm when he spoke, but it was the kind of calm found in the eye of a tornado. "Unfinished tasks have a way of catching up to you."The moment stretched unbearably as she tipped the pitcher. The meaning was veiled, hidden beneath layers of implication. To the others, it was nothing; a casual remark about work undone.To her? It was a threat. The reminder of what he had promised that night. We will finish this later.Her hand faltered. The pitcher tilted too far. Wine splashed over the rim of his goblet, some spilling onto the tab
LyraThe ride stretched on for the better part of the day, the steady rhythm of hooves against the earth a distant hum beneath their conversation. The forest behind them thinned into dry scrub, the scent of pine giving way to dust and sunbaked stone. Grass grew sparse. The air thickened with heat. In this desert, the land shed its vibrant green skin, surrendering to shades of ochre and gold.But as they crossed the invisible threshold marking the edge of Veyron’s domain, Lyra felt… lighter. The grip of his territorial magic released her like a breath she didn’t know she was holding.Yet Vespera’s magic still itched beneath her skin like a fever, her body betraying her with a thrum of desire any time her mind strayed too close to him, or she found herself the center of attention. Every bump in the road made her thighs clench tighter, her face hotter, her patience thinner. Yet, she tried to focus on Daphne’s teachings.“The more influential a werewolf is, the more land they can hold,”
LyraWarmth. That was the first thing Lyra noticed as she drifted toward wakefulness, a pleasant heat cocooning her against the chill of the morning air. Then came the slow, steady rise and fall of breath—not hers. The rhythmic motion rocked her slightly, comforting in a way that sent her sinking deeper into the warmth before realization struck her like a bolt of lightning.Her eyes snapped open, and she stiffened.Oh gods.She was curled against Rivenn, his arm draped lazily over her waist, their legs tangled as if they’d spent the entire night like this. Her cheek on his chest, his steady heartbeat thrummed beneath her skin.What happened last night?Flashes of hazy memories surfaced—the warmth of the fire, the way the liquor had made her dizzy and giggly, the laughter that had bubbled up so freely. She remembered the taste of Brann’s awful liquor, the way they had cheered her on. But had something happened with Rivenn?Her gaze darted around the campsite, taking in the disarray.Da
VeyronVeyron stalked through the woods, his steps heavy, controlled, yet aimless. He didn’t know where he was going—only that he needed to move. To breathe. To get away from the sight of Rivenn’s hands on her, the sound of her laughter mixing with Brann’s deep, rumbling voice.His jaw ached from clenching it so hard. She’s laughing with them. The gate murmured. At us.His fists clenched, nails biting into his palms. A rustle behind him had him slowing, scenting who it was before she spoke.“You good, Veyron?” Eryssa’s voice was calm, but her eyes took him in with quiet scrutiny.He exhaled through his nose. “Just taking a damn piss.”She quirked a brow but didn’t push. “Right.”Another set of footsteps approached, and Veyron tensed as Delvin stepped into view.They know why you’re here. Eryx warned, low and wary. They know you’re upset over the girl. They’ve come to check on you—like a damn pup.Veyron sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. Delvin slung an arm around his shoulder. “Y
LyraLyra turned to Brann, flashing him a playful smile. “So, Brann, tell me—are all warriors as fearless as you, or are you just special?”Brann, caught mid-drink, nearly choked on his ale. “I—I suppose I’m just special?”Rivenn barked out a laugh. Across the fire, Veyron finally looked up.His eyes flashed feral, his muscles coiling with restraint. She smiled, letting her fingers graze Brann’s arm, a bolt of heat shot through her at the contact. If Veyron wanted distance, she would give it to him. But she wasn’t about to disappear into the shadows.Veyron abruptly stood. His shoulders rigid as he stalked away from the fire, disappearing into the darkness beyond its glow. Silence fell over the group.Brann hesitated before speaking, quieter than usual. “I’m worried about him.”Delvin nodded solemnly. “Yeah.” Rivenn exhaled, rubbing his jaw. “He’s much darker than we’re used to. More moody. More volatile.” Genuine concern replaced his teasing lilt.“We need to keep an eye on him.” E
Lyra The fire crackled, sending embers swirling into the night as laughter rolled through the camp. Brann was mid-story, tankard in hand, weaving an exaggerated tale with the kind of energy only he could muster.“And then…” Brann’s voice boomed over the crackling fire, “Veyron, not even flinching, just leaps right at the beast, his cloak billowing behind him like the wings of some dark omen! He—get this—grabs its horns and yanks it to the ground like it’s nothing! He looked like some ancient god of war, practically glowing in the moonlight!”Delvin gave a dry smile, his arms crossed, leaning slightly away from Lyra as she sat dwarfed between him and Rivenn, who casually stroked a lock of Daphne’s hair with one hand and subtly brushed the back of Lyra’s.. “He looked more like a man trying not to die, if you ask me.”Brann shot Delvin a glance, but didn't let it derail him. “No, no. His shirt shimmered under the light of the fire. It was magnificent, really.”Rivenn leaned in closer t
VeyronThe warmth of the fire heated Veyron’s back, the crackling flames filling the tense silence. “What did you say to her?” Delvin asked. “To make her run off like that?”Veyron clenched his jaw. “I said nothing, Delvin,” he snapped. He didn’t want to discuss it.Delvin hesitated, studying him. “She really needs to be careful in these woods,” he said quietly. “There are wild creatures out here. It’s the border of your territory, not sure what might wander over. Just… stay alert. We’ll find her.”If he came looking for her, she would run. A vision of Lyra fleeing from him flashed before his eyes. Her face full of fear as she ran, with the wolf in him chasing, taking over. The excitement that tore through him at the thought twisted in his stomach, nauseating him.“Do you need me to help?” he asked, the words heavy.Delvin shook his head, gaze softening. “Nah, we’ve got it. You just stay here. We’ll bring her back.”With that, Delvin turned and joined the others in the search for the
LyraLyra stumbled through the woods, her chest constricting. Her breath came in shaky gasps, and she barely noticed the way the brambles tugged at her cloak until her foot caught on an unseen root. With a startled gasp, she tumbled forward, hitting the damp earth hard.For a moment, she stayed there, pressing her palms against the cool ground. Her vision blurred with unshed tears, and she let out a quiet, bitter laugh. Pathetic.A rustling sound drew her attention. Lifting her head, she blinked through the dark.A deer stood just beyond the trees, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the canopy. Its coat was white as freshly fallen snow, and its antlers stretched high and twisting, larger than any deer she had ever seen. A shiver ran down her spine.Lyra swallowed, wiping at her eyes as she sat back on her heels. “Why is Veyron like this?” she asked the deer. “Why push me away like I’m nothing, when I know he feels it too?”The deer watched her with unsettling still
Veyron Veyron slid the dagger’s edge methodically against the whetstone with a slow, deliberate scrape. The sound sliced through the quiet night. His mind had no business straying. But still, it did.The motion of the blade against stone felt too familiar—like the feel of her body beneath him, his senses surging from their closeness. He tried to focus, but his thoughts kept circling back to the way she trembled under his touch. Everything about her made it impossible to hold back.Her approach tugged at his awareness before her scent even reached him. Eryx’s growl vibrated beneath his ribs, impatient with his hiding.She is coming to you. Let her finish the bond. She is ours.The ancient voice twisted through his mind, cold and insistent, filling the deepest corners of his thoughts. No. Let her ache. Let her yearn. She is already bound to you, whether she admits it or not. Veyron knew who spoke to him. He had used the crescent gate just before this journey. Though it had never comm
LyraThe night air carried the scent of burning wood and crisp earth as the group settled around the campfire. Shadows danced through trees, stretching toward the sky. Lyra sat near the flames, absently poking at the embers with a stick, her thoughts a tangled mess.Her skin prickled, flushed from more than just the fire’s heat. Magnetic fluid cloyed the air—or perhaps it was just her. Every shift of her cloak across her shoulders made her wince inwardly, growing more sensitive to even the smallest sensations the longer she went without satisfying Vespera’s magic, which smoldered under her skin.Veyron had been avoiding her all day, stealing glances at her as if ashamed to even look at her. He had dragged her into this journey, forced her along. The heat of last night replayed in her mind—the touch of his hands, the weight of his body, the bite that had sent something deep and ancient crackling through her. Her thighs still remembered the press of his hips. Her neck still tingled whe