Novels by Bunnyfeets

The fire crackled low in the hearth, casting amber light across the den walls. Outside, the forest had settled into its nocturnal hush - wind threading gently through the trees, the occasional call of night birds echoing from the canopy.Inside, it was quiet. Not the stillness of absence, but of fullness ,the kind that followed a day well-lived.Trixie stood by the window, cloak shrugged from her shoulders, her tunic loosened. Moonlight spilled across her collarbone, catching faintly on the still-glowing mark at her neck. She didn’t speak, just watched the stars beyond the treetops like they might whisper something back.Behind her, Ryker moved closer, barefoot and shirtless, arms folding gently around her waist. He pressed a kiss to the curve of her shoulder, his voice low, threaded with something quieter than pride.“Tell me,” he murmured, “what does it feel like - your first day as Luna?”Trixie let out a breath, long and quiet.“Like wearing something that finally fits,” she said

Dawn came softly.Golden light filtered through the high windows, dappling the stone floor and furs with warmth. The air in the den was still, the fire burned low, and outside, the forest murmured its quiet rhythms , wind through leaves, the distant stir of pack life beginning anew.But inside, time had slowed.Trixie stirred beneath the heavy blanket of fur and skin, warmth wrapped around her like a second skin not just from the covers, but from Ryker’s arms, still snug around her middle. One of his hands rested at her waist, the other lay over her heart as if to guard it even in sleep. His breath moved gently against her shoulder, even, content.She smiled to herself, not daring to move yet. Her body still ached pleasantly from the night before, marked not just by the bond, but by the way he had held her like something sacred. She turned her head slightly, gaze drifting to the burnished mark on her neck still faintly golden, warm to the touch, as if pulsing with shared life.She was

The moon hung low and golden, full as prophecy, as if blessing the valley itself. Lanterns strung between ancient pines cast flickering light across the clearing, where the entire pack had gathered-fur brushed, hearts full, voices hushed in reverence. Tonight was not just a wedding. It was a promise. A culmination.Trixie stood just beyond the firelight, cloaked in silver and dusk-blue, her gown a weave of soft wolf-spun fabric gifted by the elders. Her hair was crowned with moonflowers, each petal kissed with dew. Eric stood beside her, offering his arm.“You ready?” he asked quietly.She turned to him, and for a breath, he saw the girl she had once been ,the slave with fire in her eyes and wounds on her spirit. But now she stood tall, luminous with dignity. Her gaze didn’t flicker.“Yes,” she said. “More than ready.”Music began ,soft flutes, a low drum, and the harmonic hum of the pack’s oldest women, weaving a melody of blessing older than memory. As Trixie stepped into the cleari

The pack’s dispensary smelled of healing—mint, lavender, and the faint warmth of stewed roots. Shelves lined the rock walls, heavy with jars of dried herbs and tinctures. Soft morning light filtered through a small window, painting the room in muted gold. It had always been Will’s domain, a space both safe and sacred.Trixie stood at the threshold, the moonstone ring on her finger glinting faintly in the glow. Her pulse throbbed not from fear, but from the weight of what she was about to do. She drew in the aroma of healing before stepping inside.Will was bent over a workbench, carefully mixing crushed basil with honey. Nearby, Eric lounged on a stool, reading a ledger. He looked up as she entered. His eyes were steady, warm—an unwavering anchor. He and Will had a relationship rooted in years of trust a

The first light of dawn crept through the frost‑rimmed windows, painting the cabin in soft, golden hues. Shafts of sun warmed the wooden floorboards and scattered across the bed where Ryker and Trixie lay tangled skin still slick with memory, breaths shallow but steady.Trixie stirred, eyelashes fluttering as she came awake in the familiar press of his body. Ryker held her gently, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with hers. Their night together had been both reverent and wild, a merging of hunger and safety, passion and devotion. Now, in the hush of early morning, their bond felt like something ancient being woven anew.He watched her sleep—observed the delicate rise of her shoulder, the stray tendrils of hair along her jaw and something in him rose too. A tide of certainty, gentle yet insistent, moved through him. This night had unveiled everything he felt for her, and as the dawn deepened, he knew he had to ask.Ryker shifted, careful not to disturb her too much. He curled a p

The Ridge howled differently now.Gone were the ceremonial chants, the proud footfalls of soldiers in polished armor. Gone, too, was the voice of Silas—Alpha King of The Ridge, feared and revered in equal measure.All that remained now was the echo of power drained too quickly, and the daughter left behind to carry what she thought she had earned.Trisha stood before the council with her hands clasped tight behind her back, nails biting into her own skin. Her crown—a circlet of silver and onyx—felt heavier by the hour.“The people are unsettled,” said Elder Merrin, his tone as sharp as his narrowed eyes. “Three moons have passed since the siege. They want a voice. They want strength.”“T