Theron’s POVI sat at the edge of the courtyard with Camille draped on my arm, her giggles grating against my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. The warmth of the sun filtered through the trees, but all I could feel was the fire raging inside me. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw them—her—kissing Alaric. My brother. My damn brother. My wolf growled low in my mind, pacing furiously. That should’ve been us. “Shut up,” I hissed under my breath, though the words were as much for myself as for him. Camille tilted her head at me, her lips curving into a pout. “What’s wrong, Theron? You’ve been distracted all day.” She leaned closer, her perfume too sweet, too cloying. I used to enjoy her attention, her flirty touches and empty words, but right now? It all felt like static. Because she’s not Elowen. My wolf’s voice was sharp, cutting through my thoughts like a blade.I clenched my jaw, my fingers twitching against my thigh. “Nothing’s wrong,” I said curtly, though my tone clearly betray
Theron’s POVI saw her in the hallway after class, her head bent low, her shoulders hunched as if she wanted to disappear. She was walking with that friend of hers, Lisa, the only person who didn’t seem to hate her. My chest tightened at the sight of her, and my wolf stirred immediately, clawing to the surface. There she is. Go to her. Fix this.I wasn’t sure what “fixing” it even meant, but I knew I couldn’t keep avoiding her. Not after everything I’d been feeling, not after the jealousy that had consumed me since the courtyard. “Elowen,” I called, my voice sharper than I intended. She froze, her hand tightening around the strap of her bag. Slowly, she turned, her eyes widening slightly when she saw me. Her fear hit me like a punch to the gut. Lisa stepped in front of her, glaring at me. “What do you want, Theron?” she demanded, her tone full of defiance. “Stay out of this,” I said coldly, my gaze fixed on Elowen. “I need to talk to her.” Lisa didn’t back down. “She doesn
Elowen’s POVThe next few days were a blur of avoidance. I stayed close to Lisa and kept my head down, doing everything I could to avoid running into Theron, Alaric, or Ranon. Every time I thought about the scene in the hallway—or the kiss with Alaric—my stomach twisted into knots. It wasn’t just the embarrassment or the whispers that still followed me in every corner of the school. It was the bond pulling me in three different directions, tearing me apart. My wolf whimpered constantly in the back of my mind, begging me to let her take over, to fix what she called the “damage” I was doing to our connection. But how could I fix anything when every encounter with the triplets left me feeling more broken than before? Lisa and I were walking to class one afternoon when it happened. “Hey, Omega,” a cold, familiar voice called from behind us. My stomach dropped. Lisa stiffened beside me, her hand tightening on my arm as we both turned. Theron stood at the end of the hallway, lea
Ranon’s POVThe common room of the packhouse was quiet, the air heavy with the scent of wood smoke and leather. Alisa leaned against the armrest of the couch, her long legs draped across my lap as she smirked at me. She always looked like she had the upper hand, her sharp features glinting with arrogance. "You're quiet tonight," she purred, twirling a strand of her golden hair around her finger. I leaned back, letting my head rest against the cushions, and gave her a lazy smirk. "Just thinking," I said, running my hand absentmindedly along her thigh. Her eyes narrowed slightly, her curiosity piqued. "Thinking about your precious little Omega?" she teased, her tone dripping with mockery. I chuckled, though there was no humor in it. "She's a part of the game, Alisa. Nothing more." Alisa tilted her head, studying me with sharp eyes. "Game, huh? You sure about that? Because the way you look at her sometimes..." I cut her off, my voice cold. "Don't get ahead of yourself. I told
Alaric’s POVI couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was sitting by the fountain, her back slightly hunched, her long hair falling like a curtain around her face. Elowen. The girl who was supposed to be my mate. But she didn’t look at me. Not once. It was like I didn’t even exist to her. I stood in the doorway of the packhouse, watching her from a distance. She was scribbling in a notebook, her shoulders tense, her gaze fixed on the pages. And the moment I took a step toward her, she tensed even more. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. Every time I tried to approach her, she seemed to shrink into herself, as if trying to escape me. The pull between us should have been undeniable—powerful, magnetic—but every time I tried to bridge the distance, she pushed me away with invisible walls. My wolf growled restlessly in my chest. Go to her. She’s yours. I resisted, fighting the urge to rush toward her, to grab her and demand that she acknowledge me. But I could see the way she
Alaric’s POVI pulled away just enough to look into her eyes. Her expression was still clouded with doubt, but there was something different in her gaze now. Something I hadn’t seen before. A flicker of hope, of belief, maybe even trust. It wasn’t much, but it was enough."Elowen," I murmured softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "I know this bond is terrifying for you. I know it feels like it’s all happening too fast, but we don’t have to rush anything. I just want you to know that I’ll be here. Whenever you need me."Her lips parted, and for a moment, I thought she might say something, but she only nodded slowly, a faint tear lingering on her cheek. I wiped it away with my thumb, my heart aching as I saw how fragile she still was, how much pain she carried behind her brave facade.“I’m not asking for you to love me right now,” I said, my voice steady but soft. “I’m asking for a chance. A chance to show you that you don’t have to be scared of us—of me. I won’t force y
Alaric’s POV I could feel Elowen’s hand trembling in mine, but as I gently threaded my fingers through hers, I didn’t want to let go. It was a silent promise, a vow to show her that she wasn’t alone, no matter what anyone else said. We were walking away from the chaos, away from the whispers, away from the hurtful words that had been thrown at her. I could sense her reluctance, the fear that still lingered in her, but I wasn’t going to push her. I just wanted to be there for her, even if she wasn’t ready to lean on me completely yet. I kept my grip light, giving her the freedom to pull away if she wanted, but I didn’t think she would. She didn’t pull away. We walked in silence for a while, the only sound our footsteps against the pavement. I could feel her nerves, her heart beating a little too fast, and I hated that she was scared. But I knew that over time, I would make her understand that she didn’t have to be scared of me. When we reached my house, I stopped in front of the
Elowen’s POVDinner was quiet, almost peaceful. The meal Alaric had made was simple—roasted chicken, some vegetables, and bread—but it was delicious. I tried to focus on eating, though my mind was still racing. His kindness was overwhelming, and I didn’t know how to process it. After everything that had happened, the chaos, the bullying, and the constant reminders that I wasn’t supposed to be here, I had never imagined this... a night like this.We ate mostly in silence, with only the occasional soft murmur from Alaric, asking if I wanted more of something or if I was comfortable. It wasn’t forced, though. He didn’t push me to talk. He just let me be.When dinner was over, we cleaned up together, and then Alaric led me to the living room. It was cozy, the fire still crackling softly in the fireplace, and the storm outside raged on, the sound of rain pounding against the windows. I felt a strange sense of calm, but at the same time, the storm inside me didn’t quiet.I wanted to ask him
Elowen’s POV We sat like that for a long time, our hands clasped across the cool wood of the kitchen table, the silence a comfortable tapestry woven with unspoken affection and shared understanding. The gentle ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway marked the slow passage of the late hour, each tick a quiet affirmation of the peaceful intimacy that enveloped us. The moonlight continued its silent vigil through the arched window, bathing the deserted kitchen in a soft, ethereal glow. Alaric’s thumb continued its slow, soothing strokes across the back of my hand, a simple gesture that spoke volumes of his quiet tenderness. His silver eyes, still softened by the late hour, held a steady gaze, a silent reassurance that transcended the need for words. In that moment, the complexities of our lives, the ever-present awareness of the triplets’ possessiveness, the weight of the Academy’s scrutiny – all of it seemed to recede, leaving only the profound connection between Alaric and m
Elowen’s POV The remainder of the evening passed with a renewed sense of quiet solidarity. The brief intrusion by Lysander had served as a stark reminder of the outside world’s perception of our unconventional bond, but it had also solidified the unwavering unity between the triplets and me. Ranon’s possessive hand never left mine, Alaric’s protective arm remained draped across my shoulders, and Theron’s occasional sardonic remarks were now laced with an extra layer of territoriality. Later, as the common room emptied and the Academy settled into its nightly quiet, we retreated to the triplets’ suite. The familiar comfort of their shared living space, the scent of their combined pheromones a soothing balm to my senses, eased the lingering tension of the day. Ranon had built a roaring fire in the hearth, the flickering flames casting dancing shadows on the stone walls. Alaric was meticulously cleaning his blades, the rhythmic shick-shick of the whetstone a familiar sound. Theron was
Elowen’s POV The night with Ranon was a whirlwind of raw sensation and possessive tenderness. His touch was demanding, his kisses branding, each caress a silent claim. Yet, beneath the fierce exterior, there was a surprising gentleness, a deep-seated need to connect on a level that transcended mere physicality. We lost ourselves in each other, the cool stone of the gazebo a stark contrast to the burning heat of our bodies entwined under the watchful gaze of the moon. When dawn finally broke, painting the sky in soft hues of pink and gold, I awoke nestled in his arms, the lingering scent of our passion clinging to the air. He was still asleep, his dark hair tousled, his strong arms wrapped protectively around me. A sense of deep contentment settled within me, a quiet understanding of the intricate tapestry of my relationships with the triplets. Each connection was unique, each filled a different part of me, and last night had been a powerful reminder of the intense, undeniable bond
Elowen’s POV The rest of the day at the Academy passed in a blur of lectures and drills, each moment punctuated by the subtle awareness of the triplets’ watchful gazes. Ranon’s hand never strayed far, a possessive warmth against my skin. Alaric’s silver eyes followed me with a quiet intensity, a silent promise of unwavering support. Theron’s sharp observations and sardonic remarks were always directed my way, a constant, teasing reminder of our intertwined lives. The undercurrent of the morning’s events lingered, a subtle shift in the way the other students interacted with me. There was a newfound respect, tinged with a healthy dose of fear, in their eyes. Caelum’s defeat at my hands had clearly sent a ripple through the Academy’s hierarchy. As dusk began to paint the sky in hues of fiery orange and soft violet, we found ourselves in the training gardens, a secluded sanctuary tucked away behind the main buildings. The air was fragrant with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and da
Elowen’s POV The air in the Academy’s combat hall, a vast chamber usually echoing with the clang of steel and the grunts of exertion, crackled with a palpable, almost electric tension even before Professor Lyra’s crisp voice sliced through the anticipatory silence. I sat wedged between Alaric and Theron on the long, polished wooden bench that lined the edge of the expansive sparring floor. Ranon, ever the sentinel, hadn’t allowed me more than a few feet of breathing room since the charged intimacy of the rooftop. His calloused fingers, possessive and reassuring, grazed the back of my hand every few heartbeats, a silent, tactile reminder to both himself and anyone watching that I was still within his orbit—still his. But the moment Caelum stepped onto the gleaming sparring floor, a ripple of altered energy spread through the room, a subtle shift in the students’ collective focus. He moved with a predatory grace, his tall, muscular frame encased in black training leathers that seemed
Elowen's POV Second Round – Alaric. Alaric was already waiting in the center of the mat, rolling his broad shoulders, his dark hair pulled back in a tight knot, his jaw set with a focused determination. His silver eyes were locked on mine – not intense with possessiveness like Ranon’s, not teasingly sharp like Theron’s. Just… intensely focused, a silent promise of a challenging but fair fight. “You okay, sunshine?” he asked softly, his voice a low rumble that only I could hear, even as we began to circle each other, the tension between us a palpable thing. “I’m always okay, Alaric.” The automatic response felt hollow, even to my own ears. “You don’t have to be, you know.” His gaze softened for a fleeting moment, a hint of the gentle soul beneath the stoic exterior. Before I could formulate a response, he struck, his movements fast and powerful, each blow precise and calculated. Alaric fought like a controlled storm – a whirlwind of disciplined chaos. And he always, always pushe
Elowen’s POVThe morning sun, a brazen intruder, spilled through the expansive glass windows of the Academy’s combat arena, painting the polished stone floors in streaks of gold and illuminating the raw tension that already thrummed beneath the surface of the bustling room. The air crackled with a palpable anticipation, a familiar energy that always accompanied combat drills, especially those involving the top-tier Alphas – the triplets.But this morning felt different. The usual undercurrent of excitement was thick with a new layer of scrutiny, a palpable curiosity that had intensified ever since the stolen kisses – Ranon’s desperate claim on the rooftop, Alaric’s gentle solace in the rain-soaked gardens, Theron’s fiery promise in the quiet of his room. Every stolen glance, every shared secret, had seemingly been magnified under the Academy’s ever-watchful eyes.Whispers, sharp and insidious, clung to the edges of the walls like grasping shadows, their hushed tones carrying the weigh
Elowen’s POVThe morning light, sharp and unforgiving, sliced through the tall arched windows of the Academy halls, illuminating the usual early-hour bustle of students shuffling to classes, their hushed whispers and the rhythmic thud of training boots echoing off the ancient stone walls. But this morning, the familiar weight of the Academy’s ever-present scrutiny felt different, amplified by the lingering sensations of the night before.I walked into the classroom, the ghost of Ranon’s calloused hands still imprinted on my skin, the phantom warmth of his possessive grip a constant reminder. The echo of his desperate, hungry kiss still lingered on my lips, a secret fire that threatened to betray the tremor in my hands. It was a different kind of awareness that accompanied me now, a knowledge shared in the darkness, a boundary crossed under the silent watch of the stars.He sat near the back of the spacious classroom, his chair tilted back at that characteristic, precarious angle that
Elowen’s POV “Ranon,” I breathed, my voice a ragged whisper, a plea that echoed the desperate yearning in the depths of my soul. The question in his burning golden eyes needed no verbal answer; the overwhelming need within me was a language all its own. In a single, fluid movement that spoke of his inherent strength and a sudden, fierce urgency, he swept me off the cold stone wall, his powerful arms cradling my weight as if I were no more than a feather. My legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, a silent, primal claiming, a desperate embrace that mirrored the magnetic pull between us. He carried me with a focused intensity to the center of the rooftop, where a small, timeworn stone bench sat nestled against the crumbling outer wall, a silent witness to countless nights under the watchful gaze of the stars. He lowered me carefully onto the smooth, flat surface, the ancient stone instantly cold against my heated skin, a stark contrast to the inferno raging within me. He stepped