Lyra A throat cleared, echoing through the still room like thunder. Lyra jumped, the book slipping from her fingers as the mistress stepped inside, smirking as if she had expected this reaction. “My, my. A little mouse caught snooping,” the mistress purred, her voice rich with amusement. She didn’t stop moving, her steps languid, circling Lyra with the ease of a creature that had no need to rush. “Curious thing, aren’t you?” Lyra squared her shoulders, lifting her chin despite the way her heart hammered against her ribs. “It’s not a crime to read a book.” The Mistress let out a soft chuckle. “Not at all. But it does make me wonder... why that book?” She tilted her head, eyes flicking toward the fallen tome on healing, then back to Lyra. “You had your pick of poisons, curses, and delightful little hexes… but you chose healing. Sentimental. Predictable.” She took another slow step, her presence like a tightening noose. “Do you fancy yourself a savior? Do you think you can fix what’s
LyraWhen the mistress announced the test’s start, fine mist curled around Lyra’s ankles, cold as death, thick as fog. She inhaled, and it took her, stealing the strength from her limbs. She tried to step back, but her muscles were no longer her own.The mistress circled her, rustling robes tracking her steps. “Do you feel that, little mouse?” she murmured. “what its like to lose control.”Lyra tried to claw her way out of the magic’s haze that spread through her like honey through tea. The paralysis forced surrender, weaving around her, brushing against her like a lover’s sigh, teasing, tempting. It stroked along the curve of her spine, danced across her collarbone. Every nerve sang, every touch burning pleasure into her senses. It was too much and yet she didn’t want it to stop.“Fascinating,” the mistress purred, watching her. “You’re so receptive.”The mistress’s fingers trailed Lyra's arm, featherlight and electric. The touch shouldn’t have felt good. It shouldn’t have made her b
Mistress Of ShadowsLyra’s conflict was exquisite, purity heightening every reaction. Her resistance summoned a raw, undeniable craving within the Mistress. On impulse, she lunged, pushing the girl to the floor and biting her thigh. The intoxicating taste of bliss and moonlight sent shockwaves through her core. Lyra screamed.The mistress groaned against her skin, the venom spreading through Lyra’s veins in a slow, molten burn. The girl panicked, her breath rapid, uneven gasps as pain flared. Lyra’s body went rigid, pulse hammering against the mistress’s lips. And then—gods above—Lyra moaned. The mistress pulled back, violet eyes narrowing in curiosity. Ah. So that’s how it is.A wicked grin spread across her face as she licked blood from her lips. “You like it,” she whispered, delighted. Lyra shook her head, denial breaking from her lips in breathless whimpers. But her hips arched in search of something she didn’t even understand.“Oh, my little mouse,” the mistress purred, tra
LyraPain. A bite. Lyra’s eyes flew wide as venom spread through her like lava overflowing a volcano, forcing her senses wide open. Her muscles tightened, her pulse throbbed. Goddess, it hurt!Every excruciating throb evoked another electrifying rush between her legs. Her breath turned ragged, trembling on the precipice of something new and horrifying.She clenched her teeth, trying to force her rejection. But the venom burned deep into her bones, threading fire through her nerves. The torture sang in perfect harmony with elation, and she—she couldn’t stop it. Didn’t want to. She loved it!The mistress found the spot between her legs that she didn’t know needed the stimulation. Shame ignited with the intimate touch that lifted her higher and higher—until, if the world didn’t implode, she surely would. Then the mistress was no longer touching her, whispering that drinking would end the agony. Why would she want to end this unbridled beauty? Yet even as she reveled in it, her body writ
LyraDarkness cradled her, weightless and eternal. That’s it… I’m lost in the haze. Pleasure and pain. I’ve drowned in it.Even as the thought crossed her mind, a spark ignited in the void bringing the world alive.Ancient runes shimmered in the air, their glow pulsing like a heartbeat. They floated, drifting before her, shifting and rearranging, whispering a secret only she could understand. She had never seen the symbols before, yet she knew them in the marrow of her bones. They sang a wordless melody to her heart. You are more than this. Meant for more.The runes led her forward. The grass beneath her feet was cool, damp with night, and in the distance, the wind howled low and hungry. Wolves moved within the tall grass on either side of her, wisps of silver and black. They watched her, darting in and out of existence.Nestled in a moonlit field, stood a small cottage carved from ancient, gnarled wood as though it had grown from the earth. The runes pulsated brighter, urging her on
LyraLyra didn’t remember standing, didn’t register the moment her feet began to move. Her thoughts drifted through her dream. Who was mother talking about? How will I find them? And what is this rose?Her heartbeat was too loud in the den’s quiet halls. Everyone slept.The mistress had tested her tonight. Why? What would it lead to? Her skin still hummed with the magic’s energy, the thrill splashing over her thoughts like ice water. Her cheeks flushed with shame. Why did I enjoy it?Rounding a corner, her breath caught as she caught sight of Veyron.He moved down the hall ahead of her, a bowl clutched in his large hands. His fingers were tight around it, knuckles white. He did not stride with his usual command; instead, his steps were short, and careful as if afraid he might lose his balance.She followed but he didn’t notice. Not when he entered his chamber. He stepped toward the great stone hearth, the firelight throwing his shadow long against the walls. Lyra stopped at the th
LyraThe morning light spilled into the maids’ quarters, casting long golden streaks across the worn wooden floors. Veyron had told her to ready herself, but for what? He hadn’t said where they were going or what she would need. The others were dressing and debating the order of tasks for the day ahead.Daphne turned toward Lyra as she entered the room and beamed. “We were worried about you last night,” she said. “You came back unconscious. Are you alright?”Lyra opened her mouth to answer but she had none. Was she alright? The exhaustion, the pressure of everything smothered her. “I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.Before Daphne could respond, a sharp knock at the door drew every gaze. A warrior stepped inside, broad-shouldered and solid, his face weathered with years of battle. His graying hair was cropped short, a jagged scar cutting across his brow. He wore dark leathers reinforced with iron plating, his sword strapped to his hip. The scent of damp sto
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
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