What? Can’t a girl join in on a game with a bunch of alphas?

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• The Triplet's Bullied Mate   Don’t smirk at me!

  Elowen's POV The sunlight was cruelly soft, a gentle, golden invasion through the linen curtains, piercing the delicious darkness of my eyelids. It felt almost accusatory, reminding me that a new day had dawned, a day that felt impossibly light after the cosmic choices of the night. I tried to bury my face deeper in the pillow, hoping to hide from its insistent cheer, but warm, firm fingers were already brushing my cheek, coaxing me awake with impossible tenderness. “Time to rise, little witch,” Alaric’s voice murmured in my ear, low and impossibly gentle, a melodic rumble that vibrated through my sleepy haze. His breath was warm against my skin. I cracked one eye open, reluctantly, and was immediately met with his signature smirk, his dark hair a delightful mess around his handsome face, his emerald eyes brighter than the sun itself, sparkling with mischief and adoration. “Don’t smirk at me,” I grumbled, my voice thick and hoarse from sleep, laced with a playful resentment.

• The Triplet's Bullied Mate   Rest in Their Arms

  Elowen's POV The house was quiet when we returned, a hushed sanctuary after the storm. Not a storm of thunder and wind, but one of raw, tumultuous emotion, of cosmic choices and brutal ends. It was the kind of sacred quiet only such a tempest leaves behind, a profound stillness that settled into the very timbers of the ancient mansion. My limbs ached in strange, unfamiliar ways, a deep, pervasive weariness that felt as if every part of me had been broken open, rearranged, and then meticulously put back together. My magic had changed, tempered and refined, shedding its wild edges. I had changed, irrevocably. But they—Alaric, Theron, and Ranon—were still the same unwavering anchors in my ever-shifting world. I didn’t speak. Not yet. The words felt too heavy, too fragile to form. Ranon carried me inside. There was no argument from me, no protest, no need for words. Just his arms, strong and sure around me, holding me against his broad chest, his heartbeat a powerful, rhythmic thunder

• The Triplet's Bullied Mate   A promise of freedom and purpose.

  Elowen's POV “Then what do you choose, Elowen?” she asked softly, her voice a gentle murmur, yet it vibrated with the cosmic significance of her words. “The path of unbridled magic… the destiny of the Wielder who reshapes worlds… or the path of love… the solace of the mate, the peace of a shared hearth?” I stared into the moonlit river, my reflection fractured by the tiny, dancing ripples on its surface, mirroring the fragmentation in my own soul. Two paths. So starkly defined. Power, infinite and terrifying, blazing through every inch of me. The kind that could shape fate, command the elements, defy armies. The power that promised loneliness, isolation, the burden of a destiny too vast for any single being. Or… Love. Safety. The warmth of belonging. Ranon’s brutal honesty and fierce heart, Theron’s quiet steadiness and unwavering mind, Alaric’s soul-deep devotion and boundless affection. The promise of a shared future, of laughter, of peace. But as I stared at my frac

• The Triplet's Bullied Mate   The River of Choices

  Elowen's POV The river whispered again. It always did—soft and slow, a liquid sigh against the ancient stones, as if it knew secrets older than the stars, secrets whispered from the dawn of creation. Its silver surface shimmered in the moonlight, a vast, rippling canvas reflecting the celestial tapestry above. These reflected ripples of power danced across the smooth, cold stones at my bare feet, pulling me deeper into a trance. I stood at its edge, shivering slightly in the cool night air, in the exact same spot I had seen her before. The Moon Goddess. The first time she appeared, I had been utterly broken. Lost. Tearing at the seams of the girl I used to be, a fractured echo of a human trying to hold onto a life that was no longer mine. But now… now I was something else entirely. I had faced the darkest corners of my bloodline, confronted the horrifying truth of my father’s betrayal. I had ended Caelum, that twisted wolf who sought to claim me, a raw force of vengeance unleas

• The Triplet's Bullied Mate   And if we vote to exile you?

  Elowen's POV “It didn’t,” I stated, my voice low but resonant, filled with an unyielding conviction that surprised even myself. The chamber seemed to darken, the already dim light appearing to recede, as if in response to the shift in my internal state. I didn’t consciously summon magic. It simply responded to me, to my will, to the defiant surge of my spirit. Flames, the deep, luminous violet-blue of my witchblood, shimmered along my wrists, spiraling up my forearms, glowing softly in the obsidian chamber. They were not violent, not wild, not chaotic. They were controlled. A silent, terrifying display of power under my command. “I am witch and wolf,” I said, my voice gaining strength, resonating with newfound authority. “Daughter of flame. Descendant of old blood and beast. A culmination, not an anomaly.” My words were a declaration, not a defense. “You shifted into a creature not documented in any archive, in any ancient text or prophecy,” another councilor, a wizened w

• The Triplet's Bullied Mate   Judgment and Flame

  Elowen's POV The Council Hall was colder than I remembered, a chill that seeped into my bones despite the fire that now hummed beneath my skin. It was a place carved from ancient, gleaming obsidian and towering skyglass, its vast chamber looming with silent, unyielding judgment. It wasn’t built for comfort, for warmth, or for human-scale interactions. It was built to remind everyone who entered, from the lowliest initiate to the mightiest Alpha, that power—true, absolute power, and the right to wield it—belonged solely to the Council. And today, by their decree, I was its enemy. I, Elowen Blackthorne, stood accused. I stood utterly alone in the chilling center of the vast, circular chamber, the polished obsidian floor reflecting my solitary figure. Around me, seven High Council members, cloaked in robes of impenetrable black, perched on their elevated thrones like ancient, predatory vultures. Their eyes, sharp and unforgiving, were like sharpened blades, dissecting me, piercing