He smirked when she whispered her name,then slowly turned and walked into the woods.
“I need to follow him,” Raya said.
“No! No way are you doing that,I will simply send our nest soldiers to go after him.” He was about to leave but she held him on his bicep.
“Trust me,Riven,this is our only chance to catch that rouge,the antidote.”
Persuading him wasn't easy but he finally let her. Moonlight cut through the forest canopy in slanted beams, illuminating the dew-slick leaves and casting moving shadows across the underbrush. The woods were alive with the scent of pine and something darker,earth stirred by movement, the lingering burn of wolf musk, and him.
Raya stepped forward, barefoot on the forest floor, the hem of her dark cloak brushing the ferns.
She had shifted back into her human form at the edge of the woods, ignoring Riven’s stiff warning: “Be careful. Something about him is… off. Feral.”
She knew.
And she didn’t care.
The connection between her and the rogue pulled tighter with every breath she took. He was close. She could feel it in her bones,more primal than memory, more binding than fate. It was like a game, but not one she played with cubs around fire circles.
This was hide and seek with death pacing just beyond her vision,and desire licking up her spine like flame.
She closed her eyes.
There.
A whisper of movement…left!.
Then behind her.
She spun, but saw nothing. Just trees. Just wind.
But she felt him, his presence like pressure against her skin.
“You’re watching me,” she whispered to the air, her voice half-challenge, half-invitation.
Stillness.
Then,a breath against the back of her neck.
She turned, heart hammering, but the space was empty.
He was toying with her.
And her body betrayed her by thrilling at the chase.
She pressed forward, following his scent through the trees. It was wild, untamed, unlike any wolf she had ever known. Not just animalistic,it was something older, something… corrupted and divine all at once.
She glanced around while walking backwards.
Then suddenly, the game ended.
Her back hit something solid.
Hot. Alive. Immense.
A low, guttural growl rumbled behind her.
She didn’t have to turn. She knew.
The rogue.
Her breath caught as she slowly pivoted, and there he was—in full werewolf form. Towering. Feral. His fur, a deep slate gray, streaked with black. His eyes burned with golden fire, and his fangs glinted beneath snarling lips.
But he didn’t attack.
He just… watched her.
Her chest rose and fell with labored breath, but she didn’t step back. She raised her hand slowly, palm open, offering.
He tensed. A low growl vibrated the air between them.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she whispered, eyes never leaving him.
He backed away, inching into the trees.
She stepped forward.
“Let me touch you.”
His pupils shrank. Then it widened again.
Another step. He growled louder, trembling with some barely restrained instinct.
But Raya didn’t stop.
Another step, and his back brushed against a tree. Trapped. Cornered. Still, he didn’t lash out. His chest heaved with sharp breaths, but his growl softened.
She reached again,slow, reverent.
Her fingertips brushed the fur at his chest, and his eyes dilated.
He was… calming.
That monstrous energy that had shrouded him seemed to melt away at her touch. His massive claws relaxed, and a whimper escaped his throat,a sound not of pain, but surrender.
She could feel her wolf howling within her,it was happy at this connection which baffled her. She thought he was dead after that one-night stand,but he survived it. That alone intrigued her.
They stayed like that, frozen in a moment that felt infinite.
Until—whistle.
Thwip. Thwip. Thwip.
Three arrows sliced through the silence like screams made solid.
“NO!”
Luna’s voice ripped through the trees as the rogue jerked violently, struck,once in the shoulder, once in the ribs, and once just beneath the collarbone.
He stumbled, blood spurting from his side.
Men emerged from the shadows,armored, cloaked, their faces marked by war paint. Royal soldiers. Her soldiers.
“Stand down!” Raya shrieked, spinning toward them.
But it was already too late.
The rogue collapsed, his massive frame hitting the forest floor with a sickening thud.
“Get him!” one of the warriors shouted.
Chains were thrown. Netting. A dozen hands latched onto him, dragging the unconscious beast across the moss and mud.
“RAYA!”
A voice roared behind her,Riven,charging from the trees, grabbing Luna by the waist and pulling her back, shielding her with his body as spears were lowered.
“Are you mad?!” he hissed into her ear. “He could’ve killed you!”
“No—no, he wasn’t going to!” she cried, shoving at Riven’s arms. “You don’t understand—”
“I understand he’s a threat!”
She twisted in his grip, her nails digging into his wrist, but he held firm. The soldiers moved past them, dragging the rogue’s limp body, his blood trailing behind like crimson breadcrumbs.
Luna fought to free herself, one hand outstretched toward the beast who had protected her,touched her without touching, marked her with a presence that defied logic.
“Let him go!” she screamed.
They didn’t listen.
“LET HIM—”
Her voice cracked.
And then, under her breath, so quiet only the wind heard it:
“…my mate.”
The air was thick with dampness, anger, and something else—something heavier. A tension so dense, even the stone beneath our feet seemed to tremble. The torches lining the chamber walls flickered, their flames cowed by the storm of emotion spiraling through the room. Shadows twisted along the damp stone walls like spirits stirred awake.I stood in the middle of it all, posture stiff, breath shallow. Nyxara—my wolf—paced restlessly inside me. Her rage swelled like a rising tide, clawing at the edges of my control. She howled for blood, for vengeance. But who she howled for—Humphrey—was her enemy.The more the merrier, I thought bitterly.Humphrey just watched me at the far end of the chamber, shackled in silver. The metal bit into his wrists, hissing faintly where it kissed his skin. His shirt was torn at the chest, ripped from the scuffle that led to his capture, but he didn't look defeated.He looked calm.Too calm.He sat like a king deposed, jaw set, dark eyes unreadable. The flick
I ignored what I saw as I grunted and turned sharply, storming across the dungeon chamber. My heart was still thrumming in a rhythm that didn’t feel like mine. The air smelled of blood, metal, and the undeniable scent of him. My hand curled into a fist. I needed to breathe. I needed to forget.But I couldn't.Instead, I reached for the small black pouch I always carried. Salt. A reminder of pain. Of purification. Of consequence. I dipped my fingers into the coarse grains, each crystal like a grain of war history, and turned toward him slowly, my boots echoing across the stone floor.He watched me in silence, chest heaving, sweat glistening down his battered torso. The whip marks along his back were raw and open—each one like a cursed mark I had placed there myself. Because I had. And each one felt heavier than the last."Turn around," I said, my voice rougher than I intended.His brow arched with slow amusement, but he did as I commanded, his chains rattling with the movement. His bod
I winced again!And this time I felt the pain around my body.The whip fell from my hand,it's leather still warm from contact,but it felt like Iike it had struck me instead of him. Deeper and sharper this time.He let out aow,breathless chuckle,lips curling despite the fresh blood trailing down his chest.“Careful Alpha,” he rasped,a voice laced with that maddening drawl, if you keep hitting me like that,I might start thinking you're into me”.My teeth ground together. “You're disgusting!.”“Am I?” His head tilted,chains rattling slightly. Because you didn't say that when you were moaning my name.”What the fuck? Who in the world gave him such audacity to talk to me In such a disrespectful manner?I grunted,fury flaring hot behind my eyes and without hesitation I slapped him. Hard.His head snapped sideways,the sound like thunder in the silence. Blood trickled from his lips,slow and crimson.His grin faltered.I stepped forward and grabbed his face with one hand, my fingers digging in
I didn’t know when my fingers wrapped around the handle of the whip.Perhaps it was the silence that filled the courtyard after the prisoner’s screams had faded into weak sobs, or the burning need for answers clawing at my insides like wildfire. Maybe it was the memory of his howl in the night—low, guttural, and haunting—that pulled me toward the edge of my restraint.My claws retracted with a soft hiss as I exhaled through my nose.I turned to Riven, my beta. His cold gaze was fixed on the whip in my hand, unreadable but piercing, like he could feel the tug of hesitation storming in me. I didn’t need to speak; I only gave him a nod. A command.He hesitated, his dark brows furrowing just slightly, his jaw tight. But finally, with a slow step back, he bowed. “As you command, My Queen.”Still, his gaze lingered on me as if asking silently—Why the sudden fear? Why the hesitation?I didn’t even have an answer.When his footsteps finally disappeared into the wind, I turned back to the only
The first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon, casting a soft golden hue over the garden. I stood at the fountain, the cool water rushing over the stone edges as my thoughts churned, unsettled by the echo of his howl.I flexed my claws, feeling the familiar shift of power within me, the raw, primal energy that surged with every breath. The sun was fully risen now, warming my skin, but inside, I was as cold as ever.As the breeze stirred the air around me, I heard the sound of footsteps approaching. I didn’t turn around at first. I already knew who it was—the unmistakable scent of leather, musk, and blood filling the space before the figure even came into view."Your Majesty," she said, her voice low and respectful.I finally turned, meeting the eyes of my warrior. Thalira Ironmoon. She had returned from her journey, and though his presence was familiar, there was something unsettling about her posture—something different in the way she carried himself. She stood before me, head
Raya’s POVSleep didn’t come as fast as usual.Something around me didn’t feel right.The suffocating silence wrapped around me like a blanket, yet I could breathe. My lungs burned for air that I didn’t need. I was drowning, suffocating beneath an invisible weight, but there was nothing to hold me down. My body ached as if I had been submerged in a cold ocean for too long. But there was no water, no deep abyss—just an emptiness that pressed on my chest.I felt eyes on me. Heavy, predatory eyes. I couldn’t see them, but I could feel them, dark and knowing, pricking my skin like a thousand unseen needles. My breath quickened, each inhale sharp and shallow. It was as though the weight of centuries was in the gaze that followed me, creeping through my veins, entwining with my blood.Then the whispers started."Welcome home."The words were soft, like a lover’s breath, yet the meaning hit me like a blow to the gut. Home? I was already home. Wasn’t I?Something grabbed me—icy fingers brushi