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
VeyronWhile she served the crowd, Veyron’s chest swelled with pride as Lyra responded with such tact and intelligence. She hadn’t been cowed—no, she’d fired back with an edge he hadn’t anticipated. For a moment, he allowed himself to savor the small victory, the warmth that spread through him at seeing her stand her ground. She was his. And even if she didn’t fully realize it yet, that spark of fire in her eyes filled him with a dangerous sense of satisfaction. She was addictive.But then the bastard had to speak words meant to humiliate her in front of the others, to put her back in her place. The fury within him surged like wildfire. Before he could stop it, Eryx roared to the surface.Next thing he knew, he held the man by the throat, his feet dangling helplessly. The bastard’s eyes widened with shock, mouth gaping in disbelief. "I... I’m sorry," the man choked out, his voice strained and cracking, "I didn’t mean any offense."Veyron’s teeth gritted, Eryx snarling in his mind, d
LyraLyra’s breath caught in her throat at Veyron’s declaration as he announced it to the entire room. Her hands pressed to her chest, her heart thundering beneath her fingertips. The words spun in her head, but they didn’t make sense. She hadn’t been prepared for this, hadn’t even accepted it. She couldn’t hear any more of the words exchanged between Veyron and the man, her ears drowning in the violent waves of emotion crashing over her.Her gaze darted from one face to the next. A mix of confusion, wariness, and curiosity written across warriors’ faces. The maids stood in a tight knot, their jealousy and awe evident in their glances. But it was the silence that truly spoke volumes. Finally, her gaze landed on Garrick. He sat among the others, looking sick. The hurt in his eyes twisted in her gut, and for a moment, she wanted nothing more than to reach out to him, to tell him it wasn’t what he thought, that she hadn’t asked for this. But the words felt too heavy, the moment too fra
Lyra"Shh, little one," Kyline murmured, steady and warm. "You are not alone. You are never alone."Lyra stiffened at first, but the day crashed into her all at once. The whispers, the stares, the rejection. The warriors had looked at her like she was something to be scrutinized, the maids had turned their backs on her. Even sweet, caring Daphne had hesitated."I don’t belong here," Lyra choked out, her fingers curled into Kyline’s cloak. "I thought I did—I almost did. And now it’s all gone. They hate me. The maids, the warriors. Everything’s ruined." Her voice cracked, and she shook her head against Kyline’s shoulder. "I should have never left the woods. I should have never let myself feel anything. It only leads to pain."Kyline exhaled softly and pulled back just enough to look Lyra in the eyes. "You think you could have avoided pain by hiding away? That if you had stayed in the forest, the world would have forgotten you, and you’d have been safe?"Lyra swallowed hard, her throat b
VeyronAs Veyron strode through the dimly lit corridors of the den, Eryx prowled restlessly the edges of his mind."You felt it too," the wolf rumbled, his voice a low growl of unease.Veyron clenched his fists. “The Gate’s waking. It’s been more active the closer we get to the centennial eclipse festival.”"Moon’s blood calls it. It’s not just a festival. It honors the celestial alignment, but don’t forget its deeper purpose.” Eryx warned him.Veyron shook his head. “I am not like most. I remember how we must prepare for the events the eclipse heralds.” “And the girl?" Eryx sneered, voice edged with frustration. "You pushed her, tested her, and yet you hesitate."Veyron snarled under his breath, “She unsettles me.”"She’s meant to."At the base of a hidden archway, cloaked in shadow, the Mistress of Shadows waited, her presence felt before she spoke."You’re late," she murmured, her voice like silk spun over steel.Veyron stepped forward, unfazed. "The Gate would not shatter if I to
LyraLyra was returning from her conversation with Kyline, her mind still tangled. She barely noticed the darkened corners of the garden as she walked, her thoughts so consumed with the prophecy and Veyron’s claim that the world around her felt distant. A figure stalked from the darkness, silent as death itself. A chill raced down her spine as she stumbled back, her breath catching. He moved with a predator’s ease, each step deliberate.“Running around in the dark now, are we?” Garrick’s tone held that familiar humour, but with a threatening edge. Her heart skipped, her breath catching for a moment before she found her bearings. She hadn't heard him approach at all.“You should know better—our lands are dangerous, even for pretty little trespassers.” Before she could respond, he closed the distance between them, gripping her arm with a surprising firmness. In one swift motion, he pulled her inside, leading her down the hall. The seriousness in his gaze that was so unlike him caught
VeyronDarkness receded in waves, leaving behind the Crescent Gate’s cryptic whispers. Veyron staggered to his feet, as his vision cleared, the portal’s pulsating glow illuminating his silhouette. He cradled his head in both hands as the visions dispersed. The gate’s power always left him temporarily crippled, feeding off him with an unquenchable appetite. His wolf whimpered, feeling the toll through their eternal link.“The Demon Lord mobilizes,” Eryx said, his tone grim. “This is a warning.”Veyron exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders. “Then we answer it. Patrols will triple. The festival will be a breeding ground for chaos.”He’s after our mate. Our connection to the gate makes her a target.Veyron’s jaw tightened. He couldn’t let her fall to him. When he left, she would go with him. There was no other option.The mistress stepped closer. She had been watching from a distance, silent and observant, waiting for him to emerge. She didn’t ask if he was all right. She already knew the
VeyronVeyron climbed on top of Lyra, his world narrowing to her softness beneath him, her warmth branding him deeper than any fire. She was everything. The only thing. Starved compulsion consumed the edges of his feverish conscious. The wicked delirium of her stormed beneath his skin, pooling deep within him, demanding more—demanding her.He pinned her hands above her head, savoring the way she shivered beneath his touch, the way her breath caught. Every nerve awakened, attuned to the press of her body, the rapid beat of her pulse. Pressure built until his limbs trembled with the effort of holding on, his body no longer his own, ruled by the need to claim, to take, to make her his. Instinctively, he rocked against her, chasing her heat with a desperate, mindless rhythm that grew wilder until he was lost in her.She was his abyss, his surrender, his undoing.And then—he was gone.The unleashing became a vast ocean he could not escape, pulling him deeper. No sight. No sound. Only her.
LyraThe mistress's touch seared into Lyra and she was powerless to stop her. “Please, don’t. I can’t take anymore, Vespera…”Pleasure and pain comingled until they were indistinguishable, reducing her will to a gasping, quivering rapacity.Even as the dream faded, its effects did not. The need coiled tight. Her fingers twitched, drawn down to where the mistress had taught her would quench the terrible hunger. She squeezed her eyes shut, lips parting as her fingertips brushed over her clit.Slick sweat coated her body as hands she couldn’t see ghosted over her skin, breath she couldn’t feel whispering in her ear. It wasn’t real. And yet…The mistress was still here. A phantom presence. No… Someone was in the room with her. Ice flooded through the fire in her veins. Humiliation being caught like this flooded her senses, awakening every nerve, driving her closer to the edge.Her eyes snapped open.Veyron loomed over her, his massive frame shrouded in shadows, the hunger radiating fro
VeyronThe room was suffocating. The candle on the nightstand burned out, leaving the scent of melted wax and a faint wisp of smoke. Veyron sat on the edge of the bed, his hands clenched into fists so tight his nails left crescent shaped lacerations on his palms. Lyra’s laugh still bounced around his head. Rivenn had charmed her, teasing, touching, even stealing glances. And Veyron watched, as the people he trusted most toyed with her attention. And she had welcomed it.Eryx growled in his mind, a low, restless rumble. They covet what is ours.Ours.Veyron’s breath shuddered out, the tension in his shoulders growing until they ached. He wanted her. More than he wanted air. Why did he yearn for her so? Why did her refusal to accept him burn so hot and deep? He didn’t need some girl. Never had. And yet, he needed her.The Mistress’s voice was a whisper in his mind, silk over steel, winding through the cracks in his resolve.Break her…He squeezed his eyes shut, but it was useless. Her
Lyra“He’s got a habit of picking up strays,” Brann remarked, tipping back his ale and nodding toward Veyron. “Over half the bastards here wouldn’t have a place if he didn’t take ‘em in.”Eryssa smirked. “Or a purpose. We’re all misfits in one way or another, but Veyron—he finds a use for the discarded.”Lyra listened quietly, her fingers tracing the rim of her tankard. She had seen Veyron’s leadership firsthand—the way these warriors, dangerous and unruly as they seemed, deferred to him without a command ever needing to be spoken. “And yet, he doesn’t unwillingly bind anyone to him as their Alpha.” Rivenn admired. “Veyron doesn’t demand it. He never has.”Most packs didn’t work that way. The pack bond was everything. The unshakable link that demanded loyalty, submission, belonging. It kept betrayal and fights out. Veyron did that all through sheer might.She glanced at him, half-hidden in the shadows now, nursing his drink as he listened but didn’t engage. His eyes distant.“It’s be
Veyron The tavern buzzed with life, its warmth at odds with the cold void inside him. His enforcers reveled in their drinks, their camaraderie unshaken despite the serious mission ahead. They nudged him, coaxed him, trying to pull him into their merriment. “Come on, Veyron,” Brann called, already three drinks deep. “I haven’t seen you smile in years. Are your teeth still intact, or did you grind them all to dust?” Veyron exhaled through his nose, arms folded across his chest. “I’ll smile when I see something worth smiling about.” Delvin smirked. “Gods help us all when that day comes.” Eryssa shook her head. “Lost cause,” she muttered, clinking her tankard against Rivenn’s. “Might as well try getting Aeron drunk.” Veyron barely heard them. His attention was elsewhere. On her. Lyra sat among them, relaxed in a way she never was around him. Her lips curved in amusement as she sipped her drink, a strand of raven hair slipping over her shoulder. The firelight softened her edges… w
Lyra“We’re after an artifact,” Veyron explained, setting his tankard down with a dull thud. “The Eglantine.”Silence fell over the table.Brann exhaled. “Shit.”Rivenn let out a low whistle. “She really has you chasing that?”Eryssa threw back a swallow of her drink before asking, “I knew it had to be bad, but… that bad?”“Alright,” Daphne glanced between them. ”someone want to explain? What’s the Eglantine?”Delvin drummed his fingers on the table. “Ancient. Dangerous. Powerful. One of a kind.”Brann chuckled, but it lacked his usual warmth. “Sounds like my type.”Eryssa rolled her eyes. “It’s not something to joke about, Brann.”“So we’re retrieving it…” Lyra frowned. “for what purpose?”Veyron’s jaw flexed before he answered. “The Mistress wants it. She says it’ll protect the pack from what’s coming.”That sent a ripple of unease through the group.Eryssa spoke, “It’s really happening, then.”Aeron merely nodded.Lyra’s eyes narrowed. “And what exactly is ‘it’?”No one answered i
LyraFollowing the group to the table, Lyra watched Veyron warily. Rivenn had been testing and teasing him but she had seen the moment where he almost didn’t stop. He had wanted to see blood and the echoes of anger hadn’t fully faded.Rivenn leaned back in his chair, lazily scanning the room as he took a deep swig of ale—then nearly choked on it. He set his tankard down with a thunk, eyes locking onto Lyra and Daphne.“Well, well,” he drawled, a slow grin spreading across his face. “No one told me we’d have company.”At that, the rest of the group turned, as if finally registering the two women who had ridden in with Veyron.Brann’s grin widened. “And no one told me the company would be this pretty.”Veyron’s fingers curled around the handle of his drink, his knuckles tightening as Brann leaned forward, all easy charm and reckless grins. A low growl hummed in the back of Veyron’s throat, too soft for anyone but Lyra to catch.She tried to ignore him.Eryssa groaned. “Gods save us, her
VeyronLyra, Daphne, Veyron, and Delvin rode toward the inn, its warm golden light spilling from shuttered windows onto the mud-slick road. It was a welcome sight after a long day’s ride, promising food, rest, and reacquaintance with old friends.The inn was bustling, the scent of roasting meat and ale mingling with the perfume of courtesans who prowled between tables like well-fed cats. Laughter and the clink of tankards filled the barroom.When they stepped inside, the world stilled. People recognized Veyron. A few stiffened, others averted their eyes. He was their leader, if not their Alpha, and he had long since stopped caring about being the center of attention.Then, cold steel pressed against his throat.Lyra sucked in a sharp breath, taking a step back. The firelight caught the glint of the blade, its edge whispering against his skin. His body went taut, but he didn’t flinch.Rip. Tear. Make him bleed. Eryx’s voice rumbled inside him, low and eager, his wolf’s instincts coiled
LyraThey traveled for the better part of the day through the vast, wind-swept grasslands, where golden fields rippled like an endless sea. Daphne kept the mood light, chatting idly with Lyra about whatever she saw around them; the color of the sky, the crispness of the air, idle musings about the villages they passed. Lyra responded when she could, but she was exhausted. Yet with every lapse of the conversation, her blood burned with a secret intimate need. The mistress of shadows’ torment never far, lurking behind every breath. The vibrations of riding thrumming along her ever sensitive womanhood.Veyron rode ahead. The tension in his shoulders and the sharp set of his jaw made it clear that his thoughts were not something he intended to share. The warrior who had fetched them from the quarters rode alongside them. He was middle-aged, with graying temples and a face lined by years of battle, yet his demeanor was easygoing. He joined in Daphne’s chatter with an amused tone, though w