Romances de D.G. KNIGHT

Elara’s POVThe room fell silent.It was not a silence without disturbing noise. It was the kind of silence which signals the coming of a thunderstorm. The air in the boutique became heavy and the charged static electricity made the hair on my arms stand up."A letter?" I asked. My voice was thin, fragile.Damon stood still. He didn't leave the room but rather stood in the doorway blocking the exit with his huge body. The letter was a thick cream, colored envelope on which I could notice even from a distance that the wax seal was made by two fingers of his hand, which was hanging loose.Silver. The crest of a howling wolf.I felt queasy. It was a live memory of me knowing the crest very well since I had spent years polishing it on the silver, plated cutlery in the Alphas dining hall. I had scrubbed that crest into the stone floors until my knuckles bled."He sent a courier, " Damon informed. "It was delivered at the gate just ten minutes ago and left without any name except 'The Stray

Liam’s POVThe whiskey tasted like ash.It truly should not have. The single malt was thirty years old. My dad only drank these kinds of drinks on special occasions, like when he signed treaties or won a pack. It should have tasted like smoke, wood, and accomplishment.Instead, it tasted like mud.I glanced at the clear glass and the golden liquid that was spinning inside it. My hand was shaking. It was just a shake. I could not stop the mild vibration in my fingers no matter how tightly I gripped my fist.She is not there anymore.I did not have that idea. It came from the beast that lives deep inside me. He was on foot. It hurts to scratch the back of my ribcage. Whining. "Shut up," I hissed. I tossed the crystal glass across the room.It shattered against the far wall of my bedroom. Shards of crystal fell down onto the hardwood floor. The brown liquid spilled over the pricey silk wallpaper, producing a mark that looked like dried blood. The noise was fantastic. For a few seco

Damon’s POVThe meeting with the Council was useless.I sat in the back of the Maybach, watching the city rush past. My hand gripped the leather armrest so hard my knuckles turned white.From the front seat, Kael said, “They’re scared, Alpha. The Silver Moon Alpha keeps calling the Council. He says we took a valuable servant.”Valuable servant, I repeated. The words burned. “She was trash to them yesterday. Now suddenly she has worth. Funny how that works.”My phone buzzed again. Another message from the Council.I crushed the phone in my hand. The screen cracked.Let them come, my wolf growled. We’ll stack their bodies at the gate.But my wolf wasn’t angry about politics.He was angry because we were away from her. I’d been gone for three hours. It felt like three years. I could feel the pull in my chest, the bond dragging me back to her.“Drive faster,” I ordered.When I entered the penthouse, the silence felt wrong.Silence usually meant control.This silence meant she was hiding.

I stopped at the edge of a table, holding tightly to the back of a velvet chair.Face-to-face with him, Damon was overwhelming; he smelled dangerous, hot, and consuming. His sheer size made the massive dining table look small. He didn't sit; he waited for me to come. "Sit," he murmured, pulling out the chair for me. I sat down, and he pushed the chair in, his body brushing against my shoulder. The heat radiating off him made my skin prickle. I expected him to go to the end of the longer table, just like the Alpha of the Silver Moon pack sat miles away from his family just to show dominance, but he didn't; he pulled his chair right next to mine, scraping the wood against the floor so close that our knees almost touched."Eat," he commanded, pointing at the food. My stomach growled loudly in the quiet room. I felt embarrassed and looked down at the plate. There were pancakes, eggs, bacon, fruits, and pastries. It was more food than I usually saw in a whole week at the pack house."I...

Elara’s POVI woke up screaming.My hand flew to my chest, clutching the fabric of the shirt, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. I gasped for air, expecting to smell the moldy dampness of the servant’s quarters. I expected to hear Jessica banging on my door, yelling at me to scrub the Alpha’s floors.But there was no shouting. There was no mold.There was only silence. And the scent of dark chocolate and pine.I blinked, my vision adjusting to the morning light streaming through a wall made entirely of glass. I wasn't on my cot. I was in a bed that felt like a cloud, wrapped in sheets made of black silk.Memory crashed into me like a physical blow. The rejection. The woods. The man with the red eyes."Damon," I whispered.I sat up, looking down at myself. I was wearing a men's dress shirt. It was massive on me, the hem hitting my mid-thigh, the sleeves rolled up clumsily.I scrambled out of bed, my bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. The room was empty."Hel

Damon’s POVI closed the bathroom door behind me, and the moment the latch clicked, I lost control.My knees hit the floor. A low, guttural growl ripped through my chest, shaking the walls of the master suite. My claws lengthened, punching through the expensive tips of my dress shoes, gouging deep grooves into the black marble floor.MATE. MATE. CLAIM. MARK.My wolf, shadow-dark and ancient, was thrashing against the cage of my mind. He wanted to break down that door. He wanted to tear that cheap, bloody dress off her body. He wanted to sink his teeth into the soft curve of her neck and bind her to us so permanently that even death couldn't separate us."No," I gritted out, sweat beading on my forehead. I dug my fingers into the stone floor, fighting the transformation. "Not yet."SHE IS OURS, my wolf roared, flooding my senses with her scent vanilla, rain, and the underlying metallic tang of her fear. SHE IS HURT. WE MUST HEAL. WE MUST KILL WHO HURT HER."We will," I promised, fo