All Chapters of Night of the Rogues: Bound In Darkness: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

I completely forgot myself when I got out of that wretched hole, grabbing and embracing Mireille in front of everyone like that. Not that I regret it for a second. However after that moment, I got a grip. Guard back up. Just because Raze has gone doesn't mean everyone is trustworthy and friendly now. It was genuinely unnerving seeing everyone so thrilled to see me alive. Especially considering they all saw me as an enemy for so long. Then I found out Mireille had promised them a skull-wrecking session on moonshine if they found me. They found me like a pack of bloodhounds. Within a couple of hours. Convenient. Perhaps I’m just paranoid. Mireille, Quinn and Dee were on a giddy high. Quite rightly. I kept to the side, out of the way as Mireille and her ladies served the drinks. Her pale green eyes kept flashing to mine. I'd love to have known what she was thinking. Well, more accurately I’d love to grab her to me once again and not see any other face for a week. But she’s a

The next few weeks were successful. The pack's hangovers were endured, work rotas picked up as normal. The temperature lowering allowed tempers to cool alongside, the general atmosphere was that of being able to see the finish line. If anyone did talk out of line or grumble, they were shot down by their own friends. Nobody wanted to rock the boat. A sack of gold bigger than they ever envisaged hangs just out of their grasp. Sven was an ardent reporter, so keen to prove his trust. Cyrus and I spent every night together. I am his angel. He is my everything. The world only makes sense when I am near enough to fill my head with his rosemary scent. We should be so happy. We’re practically safe, looking ahead to spring. Except he is having increasing periods where he is in his own head. Surlier, quieter than even I’m used to. For every blissful night we spend together, he seems to curse himself with guilt. When Raze ruled Cyrus brood without discovery for hours on end and get it out of

Unpacking reams of bandages with Elvie in her suite, I waited. I figured, like Cal with his hairbrush, the longer we stuck at a menial task together, someone would break and start talking first. “Peel these,” she muttered, placing a bucket of potatoes on the counter. “What, for dinner?” “No, we’re making a poultice. It’s worked for generations. Draws out pus.” I looked down at the bucket and grimaced. Just how bad is poor Sol’s infection if we mash up enough potato to cover his body. “Will you be performing the ceremony when we get out, see if the good light comes down?” I asked casually. Elvie sighed, her long silvery hair tied up in a huge bun, sitting on the top of her head like a crown. “It’s too early to test the ice. We should be out before the sixth full moon, so yes, I think I will lead it.” “I hope it works.” “It should do. The readings have suggested the issue…the issue is the host, not the ceremony itself.” So Mireille is the problem. “I’m sorry about Mireille’s ce

You’re not meant to find out you’re going to be a father straight after you’ve roughly slapped your angels’ ass, ready to ravage her with a raging, powerful knot. I had cancelled all thoughts of my own children from my mind the instant I lost Skylar. A legacy of blood and failure was all my future offered. Before then, I had dreamed of it, the same as any man with a heart and a love of tiny, wonder-filled little faces. Of course, I had envisaged seeing my woman, ideally my mate, being a bit poorly on a morning, perhaps paler and more delicate. A wonderful realisation together and cause for celebration, flowers, every food and treat they could wish for. Not like this. Not me gripping her hips until they bruise sputtering out, “Knotting might hurt the baby,” in a dank, moss-riddled concrete prison. My poor angel. Finding out that way. Her eyes widened, and her mouth hung open for just a second. There was no way to tell if she was happy or sad. Her expression was pure shock. A second

I knew something was wrong before I even woke up. My dreams were shifting, dark, and dreary. A coldness, like the ice from above, had seeped into our cosy little world. Like the idiot I am, I woke up and smiled, stretching into the covers like a cat. Silly me thought his absence was a test to see if I really would let my feet touch the floor before he’d had his deliciously wicked way with me. Instead of questioning, I’d wrapped blankets around me,, expecting a cup of coffee, maybe some snacks. A cheesy joke about needing to keep my energy up for sure. I even put my coppery hair up in a high bun because I love it when he kisses my neck and shoulders. But then nothing. Without his presence, his bedroom is as sterile and miserable as everywhere else in this place. I felt his pillow, and it was icy cold. He hadn’t just left. He’d been gone a while. Unease building, my gaze travelled across our room, well, his room, and noticed his grey hooded top had moved. Nothing else. Still