Novels by Yakira Springs

Calla It’s been two days since the fight, though it still feels like it’s happening in the back of my head. Every time I close my eyes, I can still see flashes of fire, hear the growls, smell the blood. But the quiet has finally returned. Saturday morning sunlight slides through the cracked blinds, spilling over the mess on my bedside table. Blaire sits cross-legged on the couch, eating cereal from the box like she owns the place. “You realize you’re kind of famous now, right?” I groan, rolling over to bury my face in the pillow. “Please don’t start.” “I’m serious,” she says, crunching loudly. “Half the pack keeps talking about your wolf. They said she glowed. And that mark on her side—some healer leaf thing? You basically shut everyone up.” I peek out from under the blanket. “You mean the same people who wanted me gone a month ago?” “Exactly those people.” She grins, clearly enjoying this too much. “Guess the universe likes proving people wrong.” I push myself up slowly, muscle

RonanI think I’m dreaming. There’s warmth spreading through my chest, gentle at first, then sharper, like something alive pushing its way back inside me. I gasp and air rushes in, thick with dust and iron. My body aches everywhere, and the ground feels cold beneath my palms. I blink, but my vision keeps swimming. The sky above me looks torn, gray clouds curling over what’s left of the battlefield.I hear a faint sound, steady breathing close to my ear. When I turn my head, I see her.Calla.Only she’s not how I remember. Her body is different, larger, coated in brown fur that glows faintly under the moonlight. Her paws are pressed against my chest, and there’s a strange light pulsing along her side, shaped like a leaf. It glows each time she exhales, spilling warmth through me. I can feel it moving inside my veins, spreading like a slow burn, knitting things together that I thought were already gone.My throat tightens. I try to move but she presses down, holding me there, eyes locke

Calla The pen slips from my fingers before I realize I’ve stopped breathing. One second I’m writing notes for the exam I probably won’t pass, the next my chest tightens so hard I nearly fall out of my chair. The library is dead quiet, except for the sound of my pulse pounding in my ears.It feels like someone just drove a blade straight through my ribs. Not mine. His.I clutch the edge of the table, knuckles white, trying to steady the shaking in my hands. Every breath burns. My heart is racing too fast, too wild, like it’s chasing something I can’t see.“Ronan,” I whisper before I even think. The name tastes like blood in my mouth.The lights flicker. A low ringing fills my ears, then a voice — faint, broken — drifts through the noise.“Calla…”I jerk my head up. “Who’s there?” My voice sounds smaller than I expect. The rows of shelves stretch out around me, endless shadows between them. No one answers, but I feel something stir deep inside me, something that doesn’t belong to this

Ronan The clash around me grows louder, steel against claw, roars echoing through the woods. My breathing is uneven, ragged, each inhale scraping through my chest. I can feel the blood soaking through my shirt, sticky and warm, but I can’t stop now. Caius is on his knees, cornered by Gerald who looks far too calm for the chaos around him. He stands there, his coat fluttering in the wind, his face drawn into that smug expression that used to look harmless when I was younger.Now, all I see is the monster behind it.“Get away from him!” I snarl, forcing my body to move though everything aches. The ground beneath my boots is muddy with blood, the scent sharp and raw in the air. My muscles tremble as I grab Caius by the arm, but he jerks away, eyes flashing black again.His growl cuts through the air, low and broken, like he’s caught between pain and fury. I see the struggle in him—his body wants to tear me apart, but his eyes, for a brief second, look like my brother’s. There’s fear the

Ronan The field is thick with the smell of blood and smoke, the air hot against my fur. Every breath burns. Caius has me pinned beneath him, his claws digging into my chest hard enough to break skin, but not deep enough to kill. His teeth hover inches from my throat, saliva dripping down as his whole body trembles. He growls, a sound torn between rage and pain, and for a second, I think it’s over.Then he hesitates.I can feel his body shaking above me, his claws twitching like he’s fighting something I can’t see. His eyes flash red, then silver, then back to black again. There’s a war going on inside him, and I can sense Darko pacing restlessly in my head, ready to tear free if Caius doesn’t stop.“Caius,” I rasp, the taste of iron thick on my tongue. “You can fight it. You’re still in there.”He lets out a low, strangled sound, half-snarl, half-whimper. His paw trembles where it hovers above my face, claws inches from tearing it open. I hold his gaze, refusing to flinch, even as bl

Ronan The air smells like blood and burnt wood. Every sound in the field is chaos—claws tearing into flesh, growls echoing through the trees, warriors shouting commands that get swallowed by roars. I can barely see through the haze of smoke rising from the east gate. My fur is slick with blood, half of it not even mine.Darko pushes harder inside me, restless and furious, and I let him take more control as I rip through another Blackridge warrior trying to flank Casen. “Keep the east line steady!” I snarl, my voice rough from yelling. Casen nods before diving into another fight, his blade flashing silver under the moonlight.Kael bursts through the flames to my right, dragging a wounded soldier to safety. “We’re losing the south side, Alpha!” he yells, his face smeared with dirt and sweat.I turn sharply, breathing hard. “Pull the second line there! Tell Blaire to keep the pack members underground until I give the word. No one steps out!”He nods once before shifting mid-run, his mas

∆∆∆ Kael I light another cigarette even though the one between my fingers hasn’t burned out yet. The smoke curls lazily in the air, soft and bitter, biting the back of my throat. I don’t care. I drag hard, because if I don’t, the silence in this damn office will crawl into my head and stay there. That woman dared to mention the one thing I’ve spent ten years trying to bury. Her voice full of mockery echoes in my mind. “He didn’t even blink before wiping out his maternal pack…” Stephen’s been standing by the door for five minutes now, pretending to go over the daily reports. I can feel his eyes on me though. He doesn’t say anything until I take another drag, exhale, and mutter under my breath, “That mouth of hers will get her killed someday.” He shifts uncomfortably before answering, “You shouldn’t have agreed to guard that bitch, sir. Everyone knows Alpha Josen sent you here for a reason.” I look up at him, my expression unreadable. “You think I don’t know that?” He

∆∆∆ Lala “Who the heck are you in that body? ’Cause the witch of Oakwood doesn’t give up that easily…” The voice comes from somewhere to my left, smooth, sarcastic, and so damn familiar that my heart skips. For a second, I think I’m imagining it, but when I turn my head toward the faint glow of the corridor light, I see her. Rhea. She’s leaning against the bars of the cell beside mine, her wild curls falling around her face, her eyes glinting with that same mischievous light I remember. Her grin is the same too sharp, lazy, and dangerous grin. I blink a few times before I laugh under my breath. “You’ve got to be shitting me.” “In the flesh, baby,” she says, raising her brows. “Well… what’s left of it. You look like hell.” “You don’t look like heaven yourself,” I shoot back, dragging myself closer to the bars. “How long have you been here?” “Long enough to hear your mouth the second you got thrown in,” she says, smirking. “I was gonna keep quiet, but then you started s

∆∆∆Lala I scoff, “Tch, such a disappointment… but what did I expect from the coldest man in all the territory? He didn’t even blink before wiping out his maternal pack…” The words are barely out when he slams the file down so hard the air leaves my lungs. The sound cracks through the room, sharp, loud, like a damn gunshot. The walls tremble a little. My smirk freezes halfway. His hand stays flat on the table, fingers splayed, veins pulsing against his skin. His jaw ticks, that cold rage settling behind his eyes. Well… fuck. I might’ve pushed too far this time. The door bursts open almost immediately, and I jerk my head toward it. “What the fuck, Kael?” a man in a gray suit blurts out, his eyes darting between us. “Are you okay? What the hell did you do, you little—” He cuts off when he notices me sitting there, chained and smiling. “Woah! Are you freaking serious?” I snap, tilting my head with mock disbelief. “I should be the one you’re asking if I’m okay. Look at me, the

∆∆∆ Lala "What is your name?" The man sitting in front of me asks, but my eyes trail from his sharp blue eyes to his manly fingers ticking on the file he's holding. Right, my records. "Your name?" he asks again, this time looking up at me. My lips widen into a smile as I lean closer to him. "Huh? Which one do you have there?" I respond with a slur. He glares at me immediately. "Oh please, don’t give me that look, I go by many names." I shrug my shoulders, my hands bound together with chains that are also connected to my legs as I sit on the chair. "Fuck, these feel numb... Jeez, it’s only been twenty-four hours since I was caught. Can never get used to this damn thing." I mumble as I try to adjust myself to a position that’s more comfortable, ignoring the piercing look he’s giving me. "Lala Robinson," he says, and the name sounds like a sweet melody in my ears. “Damn! You make it worth being caught again, Gamma Kael… it’s been a decade since I was called by my real name… you k

MadelynI got home tired, it felt like my body was a bag of grain, my bones, even breathing felt like work. Ruth had already finished cooking; the smell of roasted chicken drifted through the hall as soon as I stepped inside. I dropped my bag on the console table and slipped out of my heels. The house felt quiet, too quiet.Dominic still wasn’t back.He’d left the office earlier—I’d seen his car pulling away when I was coming down the stairs, but I told myself maybe he went for a meeting somewhere. He did that sometimes, left without saying a word. Still, something about the silence tonight felt heavier.Ruth came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “Welcome home, Mrs. — Madelyn,” she corrected herself quickly, smiling a little.I nodded, forcing a small smile of my own. “Hi, Ruth. Smells good in here.”“Dinner’s ready whenever you want it. Mr. Blackwell hasn’t returned yet.”“I figured.”She gave me a sympathetic look before disappearing back into the kitchen. I stood

MadelynI woke up with the familiar scent of Dominic, a faint, lingering scent on the pillow and the sheets, and somehow it had the power to make me pause mid-breath. My head was still heavy with sleep, my body warm and pressed against him, and for a second I didn’t want to move. But the clock on the nightstand was blinking, reminding me that the world outside our room didn’t stop for morning laziness.I shifted slightly, trying not to wake him, and that was when I felt his hand brushing against mine under the sheets, like he was claiming, like he expected me here. And I didn’t pull away. That had become our rhythm, hasn’t it? He expected me every night, and I had started showing up. Not that I had any complaints.“Morning,” he murmured without opening his eyes, voice low, thick with that half-asleep drawl that made me want to laugh and groan all at the same time.“Morning,” I whispered back, letting my hand linger a second longer than necessary on his arm.“Don’t think about leaving

DominicSame evening, after our little kitchen disaster, I told her to get dressed. “We’re going out,” I said, standing by the counter, watching her confusion spread across her face.“Out? Now?” she asked, wiping her hands on a towel, still smelling faintly like burnt sauce.“Yes, right now. Come on.”She blinked at me, like she was trying to figure out if I was serious. “You’re kidding, right? We just—”“No,” I cut in, “you tried to kill me with pasta. You owe me an actual dinner.”Her mouth fell open for a second, then she laughed, shaking her head. “God, I can't get used to this.”“Ten minutes,” I said, ignoring her protest and heading upstairs. I didn’t know why I suddenly wanted to take her out. Maybe it was guilt for teasing her too much. Maybe I just didn’t want the night to end like that.By the time I came back down, she was still in her room. I leaned against the wall outside, glancing at my watch. I was about to knock when the door opened, and for a second, I forgot what I

Madelyn I don’t know what came over me that evening. Maybe guilt, maybe boredom, maybe just the silence that had started to crawl under my skin since our argument. The house was too quiet, filled with people who pretended not to notice the tension between us. The maids moved carefully around me, eyes lowered, probably wondering why I, of all people, was in the kitchen. “Mrs. Blackwell, you don’t have to—” one of them started, but I waved her off. “I’m not going to burn the house down,” I said, even though I wasn’t entirely sure about that. Dominic was upstairs, in his office probably, pretending to work but I knew him enough now to guess he was still pissed about yesterday. I wanted to break that damn silence, even if it meant doing something stupid—like making dinner myself. I could cook. I wasn’t one of those women who lived off takeout and wine. But tonight, everything that could go wrong, did. The sauce was too thick, the pasta stuck together, and the kitchen smelled fain

Dominic I got home earlier than usual that evening. The house was quiet, too quiet. Normally by this time, she’d be somewhere in the living room, reading, or watching those late afternoon shows she pretended not to like. But the lights were dim, and her slippers weren’t by the door.I frowned and loosened my tie, glancing at my watch. 6:30. Not late enough for her to be gone this long. “Where’s my wife?” I asked one of the guards by the entrance.He looked hesitant. “Sir… she’s been going out every morning lately. Since last week.”I stilled. “Going out? Where exactly?”He swallowed. “We’re not sure, sir. She doesn’t take the driver. She says she’ll get a cab.”A cab. My wife. The daughter of the Montgomery family, and the woman I’d just married to solidify two empires, was taking cabs around the city like a college intern.I felt something twist in my chest in total disbelief. I didn’t know whether to laugh or throw something. “Did she say when she’ll be back?”“No, sir.”I ran a ha

MadelynA week passed already with Dominic and I avoided each other... for the best part of this whole mess? It was good. Shame and guilt still pierced my heart every evening he got back from the office.A man will be available for you if he wants to, right? I can’t believe that with two companies to run and his whole celebrity life…one I’ve decided to stay completely away from, he still manages to eat dinner at home and come back early. His parents still keep bugging us to post the wedding photos and the fake honeymoon pictures we took just to get them off our backs. It’s ridiculous how invested they are.Christopher always had too many excuses to work overtime. I used to think he was actually busy—poor me. Turns out, he was just busy banging someone else. Either his secretary or that damn sex worker.The taxi stopped in front of Texos Marketing Company, my workplace. Three weeks off and now I am back. Dominic didn’t even know I worked here, which was a blessing. I wasn’t ready to de