Novels by Nimilaska

Soren's PovThe morning was quiet, almost too quiet. I didn’t like quiet, not anymore. It meant something was coming, something I couldn’t see yet. Adrian slept beside me, peaceful, unaware of the tension in the air. I wanted him to rest, but I couldn’t. I never could.I slipped out of bed, careful not to wake him, and moved to the window. The estate looked serene—perfectly manicured lawns, tall fences, and guards stationed at every corner. But I knew better. I had been trained to see the cracks beneath the surface. The calm was a lie.I checked the monitors again. Everything seemed normal. Cars passed by, people walked their dogs, but the patterns weren’t right. Someone had been observing us for days. I could feel it in my bones.

Soren's PovI didn’t sleep much that night. My body was tired, my muscles ached from everything Soren put me through, but my mind stayed awake. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw flashes of the SUV, the attackers, the way Soren’s face changed the moment he realized it wasn’t training but real danger.I wasn’t scared of the fights.I was scared of what they meant.It meant someone out there wanted to hurt us. Not just Soren now—me too.Soren slept lightly beside me, his breathing soft and steady, but I knew he wasn’t really resting. His mind stayed alert even when his eyes were closed. He never fully switched off. That was the cos

Soren's PovThe morning air was sharp, cold against my skin. I woke early, before Adrian, as usual, scanning the house and grounds. Every window, every gate, every shadow drew my attention. My heart wasn’t calm. It had never been calm since the declaration. Since the world had learned that Adrian was mine.He stirred beside me, stretching and yawning, still groggy from sleep. But his eyes were alert, wary. I could see that he already sensed the weight of today.“Good morning,” he said softly, his voice quiet but steady.“Morning,” I replied, keeping my voice low. “We have to move soon. Today is the first real test outside training.”

Soren's pov.The night passed quietly, almost too quietly. I stayed awake long after Adrian fell asleep, listening to every sound around the estate, watching the cameras, checking each perimeter alert. Something in my chest felt tight. A warning. A shift in the air that only someone like me would notice.The world was moving. Someone was testing the surface of our peace, waiting for a moment to break it. And I knew it would happen soon.Before dawn, I slipped out of bed and stood by the window, watching the faint blue light touch the city. My mind was already calculating possibilities, exits, threats, signals. But then I heard Adrian stir behind me, and I turned.

Soren's PovThe next morning was eerily quiet. Too quiet. My senses were on high alert the moment I woke. The house, the estate, the perimeter—everything was under my scrutiny. Adrian stirred beside me, still half-asleep, hair falling into his face, and for a moment, I simply watched him breathe. He looked calm, unaware of the tension pressing down on the day ahead. But I wasn’t fooled.“Adrian,” I whispered, shaking him lightly. “Time to wake up. We have work to do.”He blinked slowly, the weight of sleep still in his eyes. “Already?” he murmured.“Yes,” I replied. “We need to move.”

Soren's PovMorning came earlier than I wanted it to. The sky was pale gray, and the wind carried a sharp bite that made my jaw tighten. Today wasn’t just another day. Today, Adrian would take the first real step into the world I lived in—a world where every corner hid a potential threat, where mistakes had consequences, and where survival depended on focus, instinct, and trust.I woke before him, as usual. My body moved automatically, checking the monitors, scanning the property, reviewing yesterday’s notes. Every detail mattered. Every pattern counted. I didn’t sleep well, but sleep was a luxury I hadn’t allowed myself in years. Not since I decided that Adrian mattered.When he appeared, still rubbing his eyes and hair tousled from sleep, my chest tightened. He looke

(Logan’s POV)We were in the field, not the bunker. The final approach to Julian’s corporate fortress required us to move through the dense, concrete maze of the city's financial district—human territory, brightly lit, and crowded with late-night traffic. The entire area was a massive, sensory overload, and the full moon was a crushing, invisible weight in the sky, only hours away from its peak.Every single nerve ending felt raw, stripped bare. I could hear the grinding of the city’s plumbing beneath the asphalt, the frantic, high-pitched chatter of rodents in the dumpsters two blocks away, and the rapid, frightened pulse of every person who walked past us. The normal human ability to filter out background noise was gone, replaced by the wolf’s terrifying sensitivity.&ldq

(Logan’s POV)The tactical map on the central console glowed, outlining the perimeter of Julian’s corporate tower. Damian and I were geared up, ready to move. We had less than eleven hours before the board's ultimatum and Julian’s exposure threat expired. The air was thick with the scent of ozone and tension, the silence broken only by the low-frequency hum of the bunker's power core.“Marcus’s team moves into the subterranean drainage tunnels in T-minus ten minutes,” Damian was saying, his voice a low, steady rumble of command. “Logan, your job is simple: you create the vertical breach. You use the wolf’s speed to break the initial line of defense. Remember the flow, Mate. You are the unstoppable force. I follow immediately after to secure Julian.”I nodded, the excitement of the hun

(Damian’s POV)The scent of Alex’s terror and the faint, disgusting musk of Julian’s operatives still hung heavy in the command room. It was an insult to my Pack’s defense, a visible wound on my control. Julian didn't just try to abduct her; he sent the message directly to Logan's most primal protective instinct: I can touch the one thing you care about more than vengeance.I watched as the Pack doctor, a stern, quiet wolf named Vera, finished bandaging the deep scratch on Alex’s cheek. Logan was sitting beside his sister, his hand gripped around hers, silent, unmoving, radiating a cold, terrifying stillness. The Mate Bond was no longer just humming; it was vibrating with a clear, resonant frequency of lethal intent. He was ready to kill.But I needed him stabl

(Damian’s POV)The cold reality of the corporate world crashed back in, replacing the desperate heat of the locker room. I was sitting at the central command console, Logan standing rigid just behind my shoulder. He was wearing tactical gear under a simple black jacket, his face a mask of predatory focus, but the Mate Bond was humming with a devastating clarity—a raw, dangerous peace that was both exhilarating and necessary.A high-priority communication signal flashed on the secure line. It was an unscheduled, mandatory video conference from the board of directors. The corporate fallout from the gala photos, the public brawl, and now Logan’s superhuman frenzy on the ice had reached critical mass.“They know this isn’t about hockey anymore,” I murmured to Logan, my voice low. “They smell blood in

(Logan’s POV)The private locker room was a silent sanctuary compared to the roaring chaos of the arena. I ripped off my helmet and threw it against the padded wall. My chest was heaving, not just from the exertion of the game, but from the raw, unleashed power that still surged through my veins. The two goals, the sheer brutality of the hits, the animal satisfaction of dominating Julian’s men—it had all been a devastating, necessary release.The scent of my sweat, the sharp, coppery tang of my own energy, was overwhelming. I was leaning against the cold, metal frame of the bench when the door hissed open.Damian walked in, the cold, focused air of the outside world clinging to him. He checked the seal on the door, then turned, his golden eyes immediately locking onto mine. He was radi

(Logan’s POV)The roar of the crowd was a distant, dull wave of noise. It used to be invigorating; now, it was just background interference. I was standing in the tunnel, my helmet pulled low, the familiar weight of my stick grounding me. The Thunderhawks, Julian Drake’s team, were already skating, their dark jerseys a sickening reminder of the Mirkwood Pack’s creeping influence.This wasn’t a hockey game. This was the final, brutal piece of theater before the kill. Julian thought he was watching his prized pawn—the hockey star—play a meaningless game while the blackmail clock ticked down. He didn't know the player on the ice was the weapon, sharpened by Damian’s control and fueled by ten years of redirected vengeance.Before I skated onto the ice, I glanced up.