Theron’s POV The bitter burn of alcohol slid down my throat, but it did nothing to dull the storm inside me. Bottle after bottle, I drank, hoping, praying to drown the thoughts of her. Elowen. Her name alone sent a fresh wave of anger and longing surging through me. “Damn you,” I growled, slamming the empty bottle onto the table. The glass rattled but didn’t shatter. I wished it had. I wished for destruction—something to match the chaos inside me. My wolf howled in my head, clawing at my consciousness, begging me to turn back. She’s ours, he snarled. You can’t escape her. “Shut up,” I muttered, dragging myself to my feet. The room spun slightly, but I didn’t care. The ache in my chest was unbearable, and I needed to make it stop. Before I knew it, I was behind the wheel, the rain pelting against the windshield as I drove aimlessly through the night. My hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turned white. The alcohol buzz made my movements sluggish, but
Theron’s POVThe storm still raged outside, relentless and unforgiving, much like the chaos in my mind. Camille lay beside me in the car, her chest rising and falling steadily as she tried to catch her breath. Her fingers trailed lazily over my arm, but her touch felt distant, almost foreign.I leaned back, staring out the rain-streaked window, the weight of everything crashing down harder than the thunder outside. I could feel the storm in my chest, the battle between what I wanted and what I knew was wrong. “That was… intense,” Camille murmured, her voice soft and teasing. She shifted closer, pressing her body against mine as she draped an arm over my chest. “I could get used to this.”I didn’t respond. My wolf was growling low in my mind, furious and restless. This isn’t right, he snarled. She’s not our mate.I let out a frustrated breath, my fingers gripping the seat beneath me as I tried to push the thoughts of Elowen away. “I don’t care,” I muttered under my breath, earning a
Elowen's POV I stared out the window, my sketchbook lying forgotten in my lap. The steady hum of rain against the glass mirrored the restless whirl of my thoughts. Alaric. His name was a drumbeat in my mind, relentless and consuming. The way his fingers intertwined with mine, his protective gaze, the warmth in his rare smiles—I couldn’t stop thinking about him. And yet, it terrified me. I was so caught up in the spiral of emotions that I didn’t notice anyone approach until a voice cut through my thoughts. “Elowen.” I jumped, clutching the edge of the table. My heart raced as I turned to see Ranon standing there, holding two steaming mugs. “Ranon,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended. “What are you doing here?” He raised a brow, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Relax. I’m not here to cause trouble.” I frowned, my suspicions immediately rising. “Then why are you here?” Without answering, he placed one of the mugs in front of me and took the seat across the tab
Elowen’s POV The rain came down in torrents, soaking me to the skin as I wandered aimlessly through the academy grounds. The storm mirrored the tempest inside me, each drop falling like a piece of the pain I couldn’t hold back anymore. My thoughts were a jumble—Ranon’s sudden attempts at kindness, Theron’s anger, and Alaric…always Alaric. Why couldn’t I stop thinking about him? His piercing eyes, the way his touch sent shivers through me, his calm yet commanding presence. It was maddening. The thunder roared overhead, and a bolt of lightning lit up the sky, illuminating my surroundings. I didn’t care where I was going. My feet moved without purpose, my body trembling from the cold and the overwhelming ache in my heart. And then, I felt it. Warmth. Stability. Before I could process the sensation, strong arms wrapped around my waist from behind, pulling me back against a firm chest. The world seemed to stop for a moment, and I froze, my breath caught in my throat. His scent hit m
Elowen’s POV The warmth of Alaric’s embrace seeped into my skin, soothing the turmoil that had been brewing inside me for weeks. His strong arms encircled me as if nothing could tear us apart, and for a brief, blissful moment, I allowed myself to forget everything, the chaos, the heartbreak, the doubts. It was just him and me, standing together beneath the shelter of the walkway, with the storm raging outside and the world feeling like it had melted away. His hand gently stroked the back of my head, his fingers threading through my damp hair as if trying to ground me, to assure me that he was here. "You’re not alone in this, Elowen," he whispered against my hair, his voice low and steady. "I’m right here." I closed my eyes, inhaling the scent of rain and Alaric, the two blending together in a way that made me feel calm yet restless at the same time. My wolf stirred within me, content in his presence, but I knew the tension between us hadn’t fully dissipated. There were still so man
Elowen's POVThe tension between the three of us crackled like the lingering storm outside. I could feel Ranon’s eyes on me, scrutinizing every inch of my being, as though he was trying to piece together what had happened just moments ago. Alaric’s body was still close to mine, protective, his stance rigid as if daring Ranon to say something he wouldn’t like.Ranon’s jaw tightened, his lips curling into a humorless smirk. “I see you’ve been busy, brother,” he said, his voice laced with mockery. “Didn’t think you’d stoop to sneaking around like this.”Alaric didn’t flinch, his hand brushing mine subtly in reassurance before he stepped forward. “What do you want, Ranon?” His tone was sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade.Ranon’s smirk widened as he crossed his arms. “Oh, I was just taking a stroll. Imagine my surprise when I stumbled upon you two… so cozy.” His gaze flicked to me, lingering just long enough to make me squirm. “You really don’t waste time, do you, Elowen?”I s
Theron’s POVI should have known. The storm had settled, but my insides churned with fury as I sped toward Alaric’s territory. Ranon’s words echoed in my head like a taunt: “She’s with him. Your precious mate, wrapped around his finger, probably in his arms right now.” I clenched the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles whitening. Every word from Ranon’s smug mouth was poison, but the image he’d painted of Elowen and Alaric together was enough to make my wolf howl in agony. How dare he touch what is mine? My wolf growled low, restless and wild, demanding we claim her, show her who her true mate was. But another part of me, the rational part, reminded me that Elowen despised me, that I’d done nothing but push her further away. But Alaric? He had no right to her. By the time I reached the edge of Alaric’s estate, my anger was a live wire, sparking and crackling with intensity. I parked hastily and stormed toward the mansion, ignoring the guards who eyed me warily. They wouldn’t
Theron’s POV I was pacing my room, my thoughts a whirlwind of rage and frustration. Alaric’s face flashed in my mind, his calm demeanor, his subtle smirk as if he had already won. My wolf growled, furious, echoing my own emotions. He’s a double-faced bastard, I thought bitterly. One moment, he’s giving me advice, acting like the older brother who wants to help. The next, he’s stealing what’s mine, Elowen. “She’s supposed to be ours,” my wolf snarled. “And he’s playing with her, loving her. He doesn’t deserve her.” I clenched my fists, the anger building in my chest. Alaric had been my ally once, but now, every move he made felt like a betrayal. Suddenly, my phone buzzed on the nightstand, snapping me out of my thoughts. I grabbed it, half-expecting another infuriating update about Alaric and Elowen. Instead, the screen displayed a familiar name: Sarah. I hesitated for a moment before answering. “Yeah?” “Theron!” Sarah’s voice was bright, cheerful, and completely out of plac
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