Chapter 270 Reckoning

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• Rejected by My Mate, Fated to the Lycan King   Chapter 477 Court of Fire

  ScarlettThe world pulls sideways.I’m not asleep. Not dreaming. One second I’m reaching for a cup of water in the kitchen. The next, the cup crashes to the floor, and the walls of the house dissolve around me like ash in the wind.No warning. No magic circle. No familiar pull like the Loom or the Weavers.This is different. This is a summoning.I hit the ground hard.It’s not Raventon beneath me anymore.It’s obsidian.Smooth, black stone rippling with golden veins, warm beneath my hands.I scramble upright. The sky above me is starless and red. Heat rolls in waves off the ground. I smell smoke, salt, something sharp.Then I hear them.Voices.Not one. Many. Layered like flames licking over each other.“Daughter of dusk.”“Child of flame.”“Blood-born. Bound. Buried.”A shape approaches me from the shadows. A tall man cloaked in crimson and gold, skin glowing faintly, like there’s fire trapped beneath the surface.Just like mine.But it’s not his face I’m drawn to. It’s the crown.Fl

• Rejected by My Mate, Fated to the Lycan King   Chapter 476 The Thread Snaps

  ElliottThe punch isn’t supposed to land.It’s just a drill. Something I’ve done a thousand times. Slow, measured, practice. But something inside me slips, snaps, and my fist connects with the training pad hard enough to send Chris flying.He hits the mat with a sickening thud.“Shit!” I’m on him in seconds. “Chris! Chris, I didn’t mean to-”“I’m okay,” he groans, voice strained. “Just… winded.”His face is pale. He sits up, rubbing his shoulder and doesn’t look at me right away. He’s the warrior prince, I’m the thinker. I have no idea how that just happened.I sit back on my heels, breathing hard. My hands are shaking. I didn’t mean to hit him that hard.I didn’t know I could. If I did I wouldn’t have. I never want to hurt him.“Elliott,” my mother says gently from the sideline, “Take a break.”“I’m fine.”“You’re not.”Chris waves her off. “It’s okay Aunt Cerelia. Really. I shouldn't have dropped my guard.”“No,” I snap. “This wasn’t your fault. I fucked up.”And I hate that the fir

• Rejected by My Mate, Fated to the Lycan King   Chapter 475 Smoke and Guilt

  ChrisI can feel him behind me before he speaks.The rooftop is cold beneath my palms, the night pressing against my skin like a second coat. I don’t turn. I don’t have to.The weight of Elliott’s presence is enough. His scent is sharp and familiar, a mix of fresh pine and something wild I don’t have a word for.I don’t look at him because I know what I’ll find. Eyes too full. A mouth I’ve already tasted.Hands I haven’t let go of since the night we decided to stop pretending we weren’t already his and mine.He sits beside me without a word.We’re close enough that our shoulders touch, but not enough to settle the ache coiled low in my spine.“I didn’t know where you went,” he says finally.“I needed air.”“You always need air when something’s wrong.”I shrug. “Maybe I just like rooftops.”He doesn’t call me on it.Instead, he leans back on his elbows and tilts his head to the sky. His throat stretches tight under his jaw. The moon catches in his lashes.I want to kiss him.I want to

• Rejected by My Mate, Fated to the Lycan King   Chapter 474 Marked by Fire

  ScarlettI wake gasping. Not from a nightmare for a change. From heat.It’s pouring off me, suffocating, scorching. My nightshirt sticks to my skin. I sit up and throw the covers off, heart hammering in my chest.The air smells like ember and silk. And something else.Something… threaded.I glance down, and there, across my ribs, is a mark. Thin and red-gold, not drawn in blood but woven into the skin. It glows faintly, like the memory of fire.It wasn’t there last night.I touch it and magic zings through me. Not mine. Not Erik’s. Not Victoria’s.The Weavers.I close my eyes, and the moment I do, the world falls away. The bed disappears. The room. The walls. The night. Gone.In its place there are threads.Everywhere.They stretch in every direction, glowing and twisting and pulsing with power. I'm standing on a floor made of interwoven magic, and above me is a sky that churns like a loom mid-spin.The air hums. And then someone appears. It’s not the Ashkeeper. I’ve felt her presence

• Rejected by My Mate, Fated to the Lycan King   Chapter 473 The Tether Holds

  ErikIt burns again. Not fire. Not flame. Those belong to Scarlett.This is deeper. Colder. Like a needle pressed through my soul and left to pulse.The glyph on my wrist is quiet to the naked eye, but I can feel the hum of it. Like someone strumming a wire that’s buried under my skin.Victoria was foolish enough to leave something in me. And I’m finally learning how to use it.“Again,” I grit out.Cerelia narrows her eyes at me from the edge of the chalk circle. “Erik, your nose is bleeding.”I swipe at it with the back of my hand. “Doesn’t matter. Again.”She hesitates. Then nods.The incantation she speaks is soft but ancient. Woven with magic old enough to bend even unwilling threads. My body seizes as the glyph flares to life.In the space between heartbeats, I see it.The thread. All of it.Scarlett’s magic is a roaring inferno that glows brighter than anything else. My mother’s glows like stars drawn into a spiral. Cerelia’s hums like a song that hasn’t been sung in centuries.

• Rejected by My Mate, Fated to the Lycan King   Chapter 472 Iron Beneath the Flame

  HildaArlo is pacing again.Which means if he takes three more turns around this damn room, I’m going to hurl his ass through the window. Not out of malice. Just efficiency.“Enough,” I snap. “Either you shift or you sit, but I swear to the gods, if you keep pacing, I’m going to bite you myself.”He stops mid-stride. Jaw clenched. Golden eyes flashing. “I can’t sit, Hilda.”“No, you won’t sit. There’s a big difference.”Soren clears his throat. “She’s not wrong.”Arlo shoots him a glare that could melt rock. Soren lifts both hands and leans back, clearly deciding to stay out of it.Good. I like arguing with Arlo, I don’t need any help.Cerelia’s nose is buried in another tome from Signe’s borrowed collection. Her fingers are ink-stained, her hair a mess.Chris and Elliott are pretending to spar in the corner of the inn’s makeshift training room, but they’re more tangled in laughter than fists. It’s good to see their friendship has been restored.At least one good thing’s come from thi