Novels by Willow's Ink

POV: MayaI woke up to find his side empty, for a second, I thought he'd left. My hand stretched out to the space beside me, still warm, but empty. My heart kicked - too fast, too hard.Then I heard it.The creak of floorboards. The soft pad of bare feet.I sat up slowly, eyes adjusting to the early morning sun. Noah was standing by the window, shirtless with his arms folded, as he stared out in thought.He didn’t turn when I spoke. “Couldn’t sleep?”A pause. Then: “I did. Then I woke up.”I stood up and walked to him, wrapping the throw blanket from the end of the bed around my shoulders. I didn’t ask if he was alright. He wasn’t. That much was obvious.His knuckles were white around his arms. His jaw clenched tight. And there was something haunted in his eyes - a shadow I hadn’t seen before.“I was in a car,” he said suddenly, voice hollow. “Rain was hammering down. I was on the phone. I think... arguing. Or desperate. And then everything went black.”My breath caught.I hadn’t aske

POV: MayaIt’s weird, really, how someone can slip into your life without warning.Like... one minute you’re dragging some rain-soaked stranger off the pavement, lying through your teeth about being his girlfriend—and the next, you’re making two cups of tea without even thinking.That’s what I did this morning. Kettle on, two mugs out - sugar in mine, none in his.It wasn’t until I handed him the cup that I realised I’d done it exactly how he likes it. Automatically. Like I’d known him for years instead of just... what, four days?He looked at the mug, then at me, those sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “You remembered.”I gave a shrug that felt way too casual. “Probably just... muscle memory or something.”He didn’t say anything else. Just took a sip and turned back to the window.The early light poured in like a soft grey filter across his face, and he stood there with that ridiculous posture - tall, quiet, composed. Like a painting or a dream.I told myself not to stare. Not to care.

POV: MayaThe rain kept us in for almost three days, it felt while the world was ending. Either way, my world had shrunk down to the walls of my tiny flat - and the man who occupied it like he’d always belonged.“Noah,” as I continued to call him, was adjusting to the small routines of life with surprising ease. He didn’t complain about the scratchy towels or the temperamental kettle or the fact that we didn’t have proper heating and relied on a space heater I’d bought second-hand off Facebook Marketplace.If anything, he seemed... grateful.And given the fact that it was all a lie made my tummy ache.“Do you want sugar in your tea?” I asked that morning. I was barefooted and the floor felt cold from the weather.He looked up from the floor, where he sat reading one of the few books I had.“I’m not sure,” he said. “Let’s try it both ways. Maybe one of them will feel... right.”“His voice had this low, calm quality. Like even without his memories, he wasn’t easily shaken. Everything he

POV: Maya It wasn’t until I helped him into a taxi the next morning that the weight of it hit me. He had no idea who he was. And I had just told an entire hospital staff - and him - that he was mine. “Careful,” I said, holding his arm as he bent into the back seat of the car. His movements were slow, careful, like he had forgotten what to do but they still moved. His brow was stitched and still red, his knuckles bruised hinting at a possible fight before I found him. “You alright?” I asked as I climbed in after him. He looked at me, almost… shy? “Yeah. I think so. My head’s still pounding a bit, but... I feel safe.” That word caught me off guard. Safe. With me? I gave the driver my address before I could overthink it. What else could I have done? He couldn’t exactly check into a hotel with no name, no ID, and no clue what city he belonged in. I had £13 to my name, a half-eaten protein bar in my pocket, and a man with no memory blinking at me like I was some sort of a

POV: Maya The rain was the kind that felt personal. Sharp. Cold. Like it was mocking me. My boots were thoroughly soaked as I ran in the rain holding the last cardboard box of my things. I’d just been evicted. The landlord gave me a full three days’ notice - how generous. Turns out that when you owe rent for two months, sweet smiles and apologies won’t stop a disgruntled landlord. I stopped under the only source of light, as I was practically freezing in the rain. I dropped my box down to shake out my wet jacket. One of the handles had broken off during the walk from the café, and the soggy contents - half-used notebooks, a chipped mug, a few worn-out paperbacks - were beginning to tear out like my self-esteem. Great. Brilliant. Just perfect. I looked up at the sky hoping God would offer me a break. Just a small one. That’s when I saw him. At first, I thought it was a pile of clothes dumped at the side of the road. But then the shape moved - or twitched, more like - an

Kai's POVI trudged through the woods, the trees swaying cheerfully behind me, but my thoughts were consumed by one person: Aria. To the Sanctum, she was merely a pawn, a means to eradicate the Silverclaw. That mission, for which I was trained, loomed over me. Ignoring a nagging voice in my heart that urged me to protect her from the Sanctum, I stepped into the safe house and collapsed onto my bed. Deep down, I knew I couldn’t let them harm her—or at least, that was what I wanted to believe. The bond we shared and her view of me as "no ordinary human" kept gnawing at my conscience. She wasn’t afraid of me, oblivious to the fact that I was a hunter, one entrusted with taking down her clan.Even as I lay there, her presence lingered—her innocence, those captivating blue eyes that pulled me under, and her warmth, as if she were right beside me. The next morning, sunlight streamed through the window. I yawned and stretched my limbs with closed eyes; I dreamt of her... again.Grrrrrrr.. th

Aria’s POV The woods whispered behind me, the air still tingling with the weight of him. I kept walking, even when my legs trembled and my throat closed with questions I wasn’t brave enough to ask myself, let alone someone like Kai. He called me Little Wolf. The nickname pulsed in my mind like a distant echo, bouncing off every part of me that had tried to stay hidden. His voice, smooth and sure, carried no hesitation. He knew. Somehow, Kai Ashbourne knew what I was and he didn’t flinch. I stepped over a fallen branch and hissed as the bark scraped my shin. Blood welled up in a thin line, stinging against the cool night air. Good. I needed the pain something real to hold on to. Everything else felt like mist. By the time the cottage came into view, I could see the faint glow of the fireplace flickering against the curtains. Of course Selene was awake. My twin’s intuition was sharper than claws. The door creaked open before I reached it. She stood there with her arms crossed, one

Aria The night air wrapped around me like a second skin cool, damp, and heavy with pine. I moved through the woods in silence, letting my instincts guide me as I proceeded. Each step I took brought me further from the packhouse, from Selene’s worried questions, from the confusion which was constantly spinning inside me like a storm. I didn’t even know where I was going to. I just knew I had to go. My body trembled though not from cold, but from that strange magnetic pull still anchored deep in my chest. Like something was calling me forward. Like I was being summoned by something or someone. Suddenly, leaves rustled overhead, and a shadow darted past the moon. "You're restless tonight," Lunelle observed, gliding down from a crooked branch and landing beside me with a graceful sweep of her wings. Her black feathers shimmering under the moonlight, sharp eyes glowing with quiet mischief. "You are still following me?" I asked, brushing a hand through my hair as stared back at h

Kai The woods at the edge of Thorne Hollow were darker than he remembered. Kai moved through the underbrush with calculated ease, every footfall silent, every breath measured. The Sanctum’s surveillance protocols had always been thorough, but this assignment felt different. He wasn’t here just to observe he was here to intercept, to uncover something ancient, something forgotten. What he didn’t expect was to find her. She stood in a clearing, barefoot and trembling, the moonlight brushing her skin with silver. Her hair was a tangled cascade, her posture defensive, yet regal. For a moment, Kai’s mind blanked. Not because she was beautiful though she was. It was something deeper. An ache in his chest. A whisper in his blood. He stepped closer. She flinched. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Are you... okay?” Her gaze snapped to him, wide and wary. “Who are you?” “I could ask the same.” Kai observed the slight tremble in her limbs, the way her body r

Kai's POV Being back in Thorne Hollow was like stepping into a dream you didn’t remember having, yet somehow always knew you’d wake up from changed. The streets were too quiet. The air too charged. And Aria Silverclaw was more than just a name now she was a question I couldn’t stop asking. Even as I blended into the school halls, pretending to be another transfer with a tragic backstory and a fake record, I felt eyes on me. Not just hers. Selene. The twin. The one whose gaze cut like a blade. She didn’t trust me and she wasn’t hiding it. In Modern Mythology, she sat two rows to my right, one seat up. I could feel her stare the entire time, the weight of suspicion like iron on my neck. She hadn’t said a word, but I knew what her silence meant: if I slipped, she’d be the first to make sure I didn’t get back up. After class, I was pulled into another mandatory check-in with the Sanctum. I found an abandoned alley, checked the perimeter, and tapped the comm chip behind my ear.

Aria's POVI didn’t tell anyone about the dream I didn’t tell Selene,didn’t even tell Mom.Sure as hell didn’t tell Kai.Because if I admitted what I felt,that strange, soul-deep recognition then I’d have to admit something else:I was changing,I was no longer the same person although it was out of my control.Not in the way I was supposed to not in the cracked-bone, fur-skin, howl-at-the-moon way.No, this was quieter, more deeper.Like something inside me had finally awakened… and it had his voice.By the end of the week, the bond started to grow stronger.I didn’t see Kai often. But when I did, I felt his presence before I saw him. It can be in the form of a low thrum under my ribs or like a string being plucked in the dark.I started hearing echoes,it was not voices exactly, just abstract emotions.When he was anxious, I tasted iron.When he was angry, the air around me felt too tight.Once, during History of Pack Law, I caught a fleeting image of his memory, not mine. He was sta

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The late summer sun spilled its warmth over the coastal town, casting long shadows across the narrow streets lined with whitewashed buildings. From the second-floor balcony of his temporary office, Devon Carter could see the masts of fishing boats swaying gently in the harbor, the sea glittering under a sky so blue it almost looked unreal. It was hard to believe this place was now the headquarters of his life. Spain had become his refuge — a place far enough from home for the world to think him gone, yet close enough that he could still feel the pull of everything he’d left behind. The boat explosion had erased him from the public eye. In the news, he was dead. In the business world, his absence was a mystery no one dared to speak of directly. But here, in this quiet corner of the Spanish coast, Devon’s empire lived on in secret. Clara was the only one who knew the truth. She had been his assistant for three years before everything went wrong — fiercely capable, discreet, and

The morning sunlight spilled through the tall windows of the dining room, painting everything in soft, honeyed gold. The air was calm, the scent of fresh bread and brewed coffee mingling with the faint rustle of the curtains as a gentle breeze drifted in from the garden. Annabelle sat at the head of the long table, her hands wrapped around a porcelain cup, steam curling from her coffee. Across from her sat Camille, in her light blue school uniform, her hair still slightly messy from sleep, a piece of toast balanced in her small hands. Annabelle had been watching her daughter for several minutes, letting her mind wander. There had been too many dark days lately—too many whispers about missing people, the explosion at the docks, unanswered questions about Damian and Devon. In the middle of all that, she realized how much she wanted to give Camille moments untouched by any of it. Moments that felt safe, happy, and normal. She finally broke the quiet hum of breakfast. “Camille,” she

Sunday evening settled quietly over New York, the golden light slipping slowly behind the towering skyline. The city’s hum softened as families gathered in their homes, seeking rest and comfort before the week ahead. Inside Annabelle’s residence, a tense silence had settled. Camille sat quietly upstairs, her thoughts heavy, while downstairs, Annabelle paced the living room with a restless energy that refused to be calmed. Then, suddenly, the sharp chime of the doorbell echoed through the house, cutting through the stillness. Annabelle’s heart jumped. She exchanged a wary glance with Rose, who stood near the entrance, alert and ready. “Who could that be at this hour?” Annabelle murmured. Rose moved toward the door, her footsteps light but purposeful. As the door swung open, a familiar figure stepped inside—a man whose presence commanded attention even after months of absence. Devon’s father had returned. --- The man’s face bore the wear of travel, his eyes sharp beneath furrowe

The late afternoon sun bathed Barcelona in a warm, golden glow as Devon and Clara made their way through the bustling streets toward Camp Nou. The stadium, a cathedral of football, towered above them—alive with the hum of thousands of fans, each eager to witness the clash of titans on the pitch.For Devon, it was a welcome reprieve from the tension and uncertainty that had dominated his recent months. Beside him, Clara’s eyes sparkled with excitement, her laughter light and contagious as they navigated through the sea of supporters.They found their seats high in the stands, the vibrant mosaic of fans stretching endlessly around them. The roar of the crowd swelled as the teams took the field, a wave of energy that swept over everyone present.---As the game unfolded, Devon and Clara shared moments of exhilaration and playful banter—cheering on the players, exchanging glances that lingered just a little longer than before. Their bond, forged through shared struggle and relentless work

The grand hall was packed with eager faces, the air thick with anticipation. Annabelle stood behind the heavy curtain, feeling the steady beat of her own heart echo in her ears. The bright lights of the stage awaited, and the countless eyes of the audience focused on her. It was a moment she had prepared for in private — yet the words she was about to speak still felt like fragile threads she had to weave together carefully. She closed her eyes briefly, centering herself. How did she begin to share a story so personal, so filled with both pain and hope? Where was the place to start? Her mind drifted back to childhood memories — or rather, what little she had of them. Her mother had died when she was very young, a loss that left a quiet emptiness in her early years. That absence shaped her childhood in ways she hadn’t fully understood until much later. Then there was her father, the man who had been the mayor before her — a pillar of strength and vision in their city. His death, sud