Chapter 372 Teeth and Velvet

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• Rejected by My Mate, Fated to the Lycan King   Chapter 471 The Fox and the Flame

  LokiShe dreams of fire again. I can feel it from hereI feel her heartbeat sputter into rhythm with the flames curling behind her ribs.The Loom breathes through her magic, tugging at the edges, trying to lace her into its pattern. Trying to tame her.What short-sighted fools they are. Scarlett was never meant to be stitched into anything.She was meant to unravel and remake.I’m perched on the rusted edge of Raventon’s bell tower, boots kicked over the side, watching the city sleep beneath me.It’s all dull edges and dreaming breath. They have no idea how close their bones are to being swept into ash.I sigh, slow and theatrical. If only they knew how much they owe me. How very good I am to them, without even receiving any accolades.And I do so enjoy a good accolade. A bit of groveling and worship. I’m worth it.No other god is more generous. Or handsome. Or forgiving of human foibles.Smoke rises from my fingers as I conjure a coin and flip it into the air. Silver gleams in the mo

• Rejected by My Mate, Fated to the Lycan King   Chapter 470 The Fire That Follows

  ScarlettI wake choking on smoke that isn’t real.The sheets are tangled around my legs. My body’s slick with sweat. My magic is vibrating under my skin, pulsing like it’s trying to claw its way out.I sit up fast, dragging my hand through my hair, trying to breathe.It takes a full minute to convince myself that the bed isn’t burning. That I haven’t set the room alight in my sleep.But the scent is still there. Embers and ash and something wrong.The dream lingers like blood on my tongue. But it wasn’t just a dream. I know that down to my very core. It’s a vision.I saw myself. Eyes glowing white, mouth open in a scream that split the world. Mountains cracked. Skies bled. Magic curled like black thread around the bones of the earth. And I stood in the middle of it all, untouched, burning.Erik was gone. Everyone was gone. I was alone with my fire.I press my hands against the mattress in an effort to force them to stop shaking.The flame inside me is louder than it’s ever been. Not w

• Rejected by My Mate, Fated to the Lycan King   Chapter 469 The Ashkeeper Speaks

  Omni POVThe Ashkeeper wakes to silence.Not the silence of still air or soft snowfall. No, this silence is dense, like a cathedral swallowed by centuries. The kind of silence you can drown in. The kind you come back from changed.She stands from where she sits, knees stiff with sleep, shoulders heavy with age that has nothing to do with years. Ash spills from her robes in whispering folds, curling across the marble floor like living smoke.There are no doors here. No windows.Only threadbare sky and the whispering bones of a world long buried.The Ashkeeper drags a finger through the air. Flame follows. Dull. Blue-white. Cold.It hovers, and in it, an image forms.A girl. Not a child. Not yet a queen. But perhaps soon.Her name is Scarlett.She stands at the edge of a rooftop, a line of fire between her and another girl wrapped in thorns and guilt.The Ashkeeper smiles, though it is not a kind expression.“So,” she murmurs. “The vessel finally chooses.”She doesn’t speak aloud often.

• Rejected by My Mate, Fated to the Lycan King   Chapter 468 The Tether Burns

  ErikThe glyph on my wrist flares before I even reach the stairs. It’s not a tug this time. Not a whisper. It’s a warning.I stumble, catching the banister with one hand, sucking air between my teeth as the heat sinks in, winding through my bones like wire pulled too tight.Scarlett. She’s close by and angry. But not afraid.Victoria’s magic is coiling in response. Reactive, defensive. But there’s no strike.Not yet.I breathe through it and keep moving, one step at a time, hand clenched around the throbbing burn beneath my skin.By the time I reach the rooftop, the worst of it has passed.There’s only smoke curling from a jagged line in the gravel. A burned mark drawn like a blade across the rooftop’s skin.And Scarlett is standing just beyond it, breath ragged, eyes distant. She doesn’t look at me when I approach. Not until I speak.The line was drawn and Victoria chose to leave. I know that’s never been an option for my fierce werewolf warrior princess.Scarlett’s hand is trembling

• Rejected by My Mate, Fated to the Lycan King   Chapter 467 The Line in the Ash

  ScarlettI find her on the rooftop. Which annoys me, because this is my place. She doesn’t belong up here.Her silhouette is framed by starlight and there’s no denying her allure.She stands with her head tilted back, chestnut hair catching the wind like she’s waiting for the night to crown her.She knows I’m here. She hasn’t turned yet, but she knows.“I wondered how long it would take for you to come and look for a fight,” she says.I don’t respond.I step forward instead, the gravel crunching beneath my boots. Magic coils under my skin, bright and alert, ready to surge at the slightest wrong move. My hands are steady.Not because I’m calm. Because I’m done pretending I need to be. She put a hook in my boyfriend, she’s lucky I’m not incinerating her where she stands.Victoria turns to face me. Her eyes shine like polished glass. Cold. Pretty. Empty.“I thought you’d be more subtle,” she says, offering me a cruel smile. “Something like a veil of fire, a theatrical monologue. But no.

• Rejected by My Mate, Fated to the Lycan King   Chapter 466 Bared

  ChrisThe sheets are twisted beneath us. Not from sleep. We haven’t even tried.I should go back to my own bed, but not even a herd of elephants would be able to drag me away from him right now.Elliott lies next to me, his arm folded beneath his head, shirt long gone, breathing slow. Steady. Measured. Too measured. He’s obviously pouring all of his concentration into not panting.I’m not doing much better. My blood hasn’t cooled since the second his fingers brushed the inside of my thigh. And stayed there. Just resting. Warm and maddening and so close to undoing everything we swore we wouldn’t do yet.The room is quiet. Too quiet.I shift and feel my stomach clench when the back of my hand brushes the skin of his hip.He doesn’t move, but he doesn’t have to. His scent spikes and I can spell the want on him. The need. The bare-knuckle, drag-down desire. I’m sure I reek of it too.“Chris,” he whispers.“I know.”We lie there for another breath. Maybe two. And then I roll toward him. Cl