"Kane stays unmoving, and I realize he’s barely breathing. I don’t think he needs oxygen to stay alive, so that’s not too surprising, but I can’t’ figure out why he is so still. His hand at my waist is so very close to my breastbone, the longing for him to slide it up only a few inches, to touch me in places no one ever has before, has a gasp leaving my lips. I have to bite down again to keep from moaning, and he hasn’t even kissed me yet." Emory I was born to be the Alpha of my pack. But now... I am here, in the castle of our greatest enemy, the Vampire King. I should hate Kane, but the more time I spend with him, the more I long for him. I am not here to be his lover, though. I am here to be his feeder. But even before his lips graze my skin the first time, I know I would give myself to him in every way imaginable if only he should ask. Kane I long to taste the wolf shifter, but not her blood, her body. But I'm already betrothed to marry another vampire, and if I call that off, I have resigned my kingdom to yet another war. There has to be a way to keep Emory as my feeder but not claim her in my bed. I just haven't figured it out yet. But I have enemies, and every moment she spends here in my home, Castle Graystone, she's in danger. I can protect her, but at what cost? Am I willing to risk everything to make her mine? Or should I put my duty to my kingdom first?
View MoreMichaelI pace the foyer, running my fingers through my hair over and over again as I listen to the voices of Emelda and Alma drifting down the staircase. Lowe walks in from the kitchen with an armful of firewood, his face drawn with fatigue. I nod at him in greeting as he walks past me toward the
“What did they do to you?” I press. I wave my hand at the mess of jars, herbs, and healing… potions, not just tonics. Actual potions. Potions made by a witch.“What didn’t they do is a better question,” she murmurs, turning away. “Emelda–”“I was a girl,” she whispers over the simmering water and c
MichaelThree hours later, in the dead middle of the night, I stand in the doorway leading into the cozy guest room I brought Faye into what must have been weeks ago. I guess that much time has passed since then. It feels like seconds, honestly. I feel like I haven’t had a chance to catch my breath
MichaelAlma and Lowe speak in quiet tones in the foyer while he helps her into her thick coat. The usual, ceaseless sprinkle of rain has finally turned to sleet–a vicious mix of freezing rain and the first hints of snow that’s going to make the village an icy mess when day turns to night. Lowe pus
MichaelFaye’s room is chaotic. Nurses and the physician crowd her bed to the point I can’t see her through the fray. I push through them, seeing her pale and writhing, arching off the bed in pain. “What’s wrong with her?!” I shout. Faye murmurs, white foam tinted with blood bubbling from her lips
Six Weeks AgoFayeMy slippers pad across the pale marble tiles. I hike up my dress–pink, just like the slippers I spent hours upon hours embroidering with little stars and white flowers. My hair fans out around my shoulders and down my back in my haste to reach my father’s office. Cara, my lady’s m
MichaelI find my mom out in the garden. I had a feeling she’d be here, surrounded by petals and green plants–things that keep her grounded to the nature shifters crave. She’s kneeling, her fingers deftly pulling up weeds–or something. She straightens and lifts her head as I approach, reveling in he
Faye“What are you doing here? I thought you returned to Scarlett Thunder?” Michael gives Cole a skeptical look, but Cole rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his broad chest. His dark hair catches the light and gleams as he replies, “My mother thought it would be best to return a few days before
FayeThe next morning, I wake up alone in the little inn room. Soft gray daylight filters through the curtains, illuminating the rumpled sheets on the bed and my clothing from yesterday still hanging near the fireplace. I blink into the shadows, rubbing my eyes as a figure appears to my left, pulli
*Emory* My stomach is tight, like a fist, as I follow my parents up the walkway to the monstrosity of a stone fortress known as Castle Graystone. Lighting illuminates the sky overhead, which seems to fit perfectly with the scene, though it’s not raining—not yet anyway. Something tells me there’s ab...
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