Novels by Mysticfox

SHAWN "Tell him I’ll be there by dawn!" The words tear out of my throat, raw and breathless, echoing off the walls of my dark bedroom. "Shawn?" Mike’s voice crackles through the speaker. In the background, I can hear the distant, haunting howl of a wolf piercing the night air. It makes the hairs on my arms stand up. "Are you driving? It’s a four-hour trip from your hometown. You won't make it by dawn if you're just starting now." "I'll drive like hell, Mike! Just stop him!" I yell, my hands shaking so badly. "Tell him to put the dagger down. Tell him I’m coming back to the pack house. Just... don't let him break it." "He's not listening to me, Shawn," Mike grunts. "He’s locked himself in the clearing by the old ritual stone. His Alpha aura is so volatile right now that the younger pack members can't even get within fifty yards of him without choking. I’m trying to bridge the gap, but he’s blocked me out." "Tell him anyway!" I grab my car keys off the nightstand, sprinting

SHAWN I stared at Mike’s contact name. He is my best friend, but he is also the new Alpha of the pack. Calling him right now feels like crossing a line. Either way, I press dial. "Shawn? Hey, man," Mike’s voice finally cuts through the line. "Everything okay? It's late." "No," I choke out. I press the heel of my palm into my forehead, trying to steady my breathing. "No, Mike, everything is completely messed up. Your uncle is out of his mind." "What did Kane do?" Mike’s tone dropped. "He gave me an ultimatum," I say, the words tasting like copper in my mouth. "One week. He sent a text saying that if I don't come to the pack house in seven days, he’s going to reject the bond. Mike, can he even do that? Can he just break it?" "Yeah," Mike says quietly. "He can. It’s rare, and it tears a piece of your soul out, but an Alpha has enough willpower to sever a fated bond if the rejection is absolute. Shawn... he’s completely miserable." "So he's punishing me?" I shouted at absolu

SHAWN I'm still fuming as I stare at Kane's message. A part of me wants to lash out, to tell him he has no idea what I've been through. But another part... another part remembers the way he looked at me, the way he made me feel like I was the only person in the world. I take a deep breath, trying to calm down. It's been a month since I asked for time. A month since I walked away from the pack, from Kane. I've been trying to process everything, to wrap my head around the fact that I'm mated to a werewolf – a man who's decades older than me. Kane's 40, I've just turned 25. He was a pack alpha, a leader. And I'm... well, I'm just a human, trying to figure out my place in this crazy world. I glance back at my phone, at the messages we've been exchanging. It's been a rollercoaster of emotions, but being apart from Kane... it's been hard. My thumb hovers over the screen as I type out a response. "So what did you mean?" I ask, my tone softer now. The dots appear, and I wait, my

SHAWN One minute I’m sitting on my bed, still in yesterday’s clothes, staring at nothing in particular and the next, I’m waking up to sunlight cutting through the curtains and a dull heaviness sitting behind my eyes. For a second, everything feels normal. Then it comes back.The pack. The bond. Kane. I exhale slowly, dragging a hand over my face before reaching for my phone on the nightstand. A notification blinks on the screen. Mike. " I know you left.Just… whatever you decide, I'm on your side." I drop the phone back onto the bed and lean against the headboard, staring at the ceiling. “Of course you are,” I mutter under my breath. No pushing—just standing there, waiting for you to figure your own mess out.That was Mike. I don’t know what I’m deciding between. Walking away should be simple. Stay here. Go back to normal. Pretend none of this exists. I lean against the window frame. Maybe Mike’s right. Maybe this isn’t something I can just ignore until it goes aw

KANE I felt him leave.The noise from his room was enough to tell me he was packing. I chose not to intervene. By the time I stepped into the hallway, his scent was already fading from the space he’d occupied, replaced by the cold stillness of the room. No goodbye. No explanation. I didn’t alert the pack. This wasn’t something I could hand off like a patrol route. This was mine. I stepped outside and followed what remained of him—faint traces and disrupted gravel.I kept my distance. Far enough that he wouldn’t hear me, wouldn’t sense me watching. He slowed when the trees came into view. He stopped at the boundary. It was the same place he turned back yesterday. I stayed behind the tree line. He stood there longer this time. A part of me thought that he might choose to turn around, walk back, and give himself more time before making a decision he didn’t fully understand. He stepped over. Every instinct I had pushed forward—close the distance, stop him, pull him ba

SHAWN I lie there, staring at the ceiling, replaying Mike’s question over and over. Can you? Yes. I can leave. I can walk away. I can go back to my life and pretend none of this happened. Except— I didn’t answer him back. By the time the house goes quiet, I’ve already made the decision. I sit up slowly, careful not to make noise. The room is still dark. I grab my bag, packing quickly. If I stop, I won’t go. I pull on my jacket and pause at the door.This is the part where I should hesitate. I open the door and step out. The hallway is empty. I move quietly down the stairs, past the main room, toward the front entrance. Every step feels louder than it should.I reach the main door. It's now or never. Cold air hits immediately. The gravel crunches under my boots as I move down the path, past the training field, past the outer buildings, toward the boundary I didn’t cross yesterday. “This is fine,” I mutter under my breath. The path changes under my feet as I move fur

ELIOT The scent of sex, mixed with the musky pheromones of our sweat and the lingering trace of fluids on the sheets, hung heavy in the air. The sheer comfort of his hard member pressing idly against my rear in his sleep made the thought of moving from this warmth torturous. A glance at the digital clock on the nightstand confirmed it was already past six, and my first lecture of the day was scheduled for eight thirty.Carefully, almost breathlessly, I began the agonizing process of pulling myself away from his heavy warmth. I gritted my teeth, a low gasp escaping my lips as the sudden movement sent a sharp, liquid reminder of his completion from last night trickling down my thigh. The hot stream from the faucet did little to wash away the phantom ache of him, but the humid sanctuary of the bathroom shattered the moment the door clicked open. Caleb’s massive, muscular frame pressed directly against my bare back, pinning me tightly against the edge of the marble vanity. "Goin

ELIOT The tears burning my eyes weren't enough. The weeping wasn't enough. The agony of the last months had left a starving void inside my chest, and looking at Caleb through a blur of tears didn't make him feel real. The grief twisted into something feral. I didn't want his pity. I needed his skin. With raw hunger, I lunged forward.The vulnerability vanished, masked by a raging, desperate hunger. I grabbed the collar of his shirt and hauled him down to me, my mouth crashing onto his with a bruising, frantic intensity. I bit his lower lip, drawing a sharp gasp from him, using the opening to thrust my tongue into his mouth. I needed to taste the heat of him, to feel the exact weight of his chest crushing mine, to anchors myself in the reality that he was actually here, remembering me. "Eli—" he gasped against my mouth, but I drowned out his voice with another suffocating kiss. My hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him closer as if I could absorb his very essence into th

CALEB By nine o’clock, I was standing in the shadows of Eliot’s front porch, the heavy fabric of a dark hoodie pulled up to obscure my face. The neighbourhood was dead quiet save for the occasional cars driving by. "You shouldn't have come," he whispered. I stepped straight over the threshold, forcing him to backtrack into the foyer as I shut the heavy door behind me. "I told you I’d be here at nine, Eliot," I muttered. "And I don't break my promises." Eliot was in pyjamas,the material hugging him in the right places.The dimly lit living room masked him in a sexy orange hue. Just like a moth drawn to a light,I drifted to his bedroom.The velvet bed carpet, the king bed in the middle. " Come here ,Eliot." Without hesitation, he walked towards me,his shadow reaching before him.He stopped right in front of me.I pulled him by his wrist, settling him on my thighs. The scent of his bodywash driving me into a frenzy. "Why didn't you resist?" I rasped on his neck. "Would y

CALEB I waited ten minutes into the lecture before pushing the heavy wooden doors open.I walked past my usual row, marched straight down to the very front of the theatre, and pulled out a chair. I sat down, slung my arms back, and stared at him. "Nice of you to join us, Mr. Foster," Eliot murmured. "Traffic was brutal, Professor," I replied smoothly, a dark smile tugging at my lips. "Don't let me interrupt." For the next fifty minutes,my eyes were never off him. Every time Eliot faced the class, my gaze was waiting. He tried to look away, but his eyes kept snapping back to me. When the clock hit noon and the class cleared out, I stayed pinned to my seat. Once the heavy door clicked shut, Eliot slowly lowered his head, gripping the edges of the podium. When he finally looked up, his armour was completely gone. "What do you want, Mr Foster ?" "I was just thinking about my essay topic, Professor," I replied. "I want to write about boundaries. About how a space can change d

CALEB The two-lecture hiatus felt like an eternity. The room filled up around me. The usual chatter of students talking about their weekend plans bounced off the concrete walls, but I couldn't focus on any of it. My eyes were locked on the heavy wooden door at the front of the room. When the door finally pushed open, the room went entirely quiet in my head. Professor Ward walked in,he was leaning heavily on a pair of sleek, black forearm crutches, his left leg encased in a thick, orthopaedic walking cast. A collective murmur passed through the classroom. "Good morning," Ward said, his voice tightly controlled as he navigated the narrow space behind his podium. He propped the crutches against the wall and carefully shifted his weight, a sharp grimace flashing across his face . "Open your texts." I stared at the black cast on his leg. My vision suddenly swam, the bright fluorescent lights of the lecture hall blurring into a dizzying smear of colours. The sound of rustlin

CALEB I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the printout the hospital administrator had handed my mom. It listed my intake details from the night of the crash. Right there, under Emergency Contact, it didn't say Mom or Dad. It wasn't Miller, my hockey co-captain. It said Eliot Ward. " Why the hell was my English professor the first person the hospital called?" When I asked my parents, they just shrugged. They figured Professor Ward was my academic advisor, or maybe he just happened to be nearby when the ambulance arrived. But it didn't make sense. I’m a senior. I know who my advisor is, and it isn't the guy who teaches the Senior Seminar. Besides, Miller told me Ward stayed at the hospital until four in the morning. Professors don't do that.Not even for the star of the hockey team. I wanted to see his face when I thanked him. I wanted to see if he’d drop a hint about what I was missing. But he just stood there behind his desk. Now, sitting in his Monday morning class,

CHRISTOPHER "Eyes on the lens, Christopher," he murmured, his lips barely moving as he threw a devastatingly handsome smile towards a row of photographers. "Don't let them see you counting the days." "I'm not counting the days, Xavier," I whispered back, my own smile fixed and brilliant as I waved at a familiar socialite. "I'm counting the minutes until I can take this ring off and stop pretending your breathing doesn't annoy me." As we reached the top of the stairs, a reporter thrust a microphone toward us. "Mr. Smith! Mr. Vance! Is it true the honeymoon was cut short for the tech acquisition?" Xavier’s hand slid to the small of my back—a gesture that looked protective to the cameras but felt like a proprietary brand through my suit jacket. " The honeymoon never ends when you're as in love as we are," he said, his voice smooth . I felt the heat of his palm seeping through my layers. I leaned into him, playing the part of the devoted spouse while my eyes remained col

CHRISTOPHER The glass doors of Smith-Vance Holdings slid open, and the lobby of the skyscraper fell into a practised, rhythmic hush. This was the debut—the first time the world saw the "unified front" that had cost two empires a fortune and one very long night to construct. "Congratulations, Mr. Smith, Mr. Vance!" The head of security beamed, bowing slightly as we passed the mahogany desk. "Wishing you a lifetime of happiness, sirs," a receptionist chimed in, her eyes darting to the matching gold bands. "Thank you. Get the Sterling files to my office," he clipped out. "Thank you, Janet. The flowers in the lobby are a lovely touch. Though, perhaps a bit much for a funeral, don't you think?" The receptionist’s smile faltered, but I was already stepping into the private executive elevator. The doors slid shut, sealing us in a box of brushed steel and suffocating silence. "A funeral, Christopher? Really?" he hissed, his voice echoing in the small space. "You couldn't manage

CHRISTOPHER The sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows was offensive. Clothes were a trail of breadcrumbs leading from the door to the oversized mahogany desk and, eventually, to the rumpled expanse of the bed. I was already leaning against the marble kitchen island, wrapped in one of discarded silk robe.Xavier emerged from the bedroom a few moments later, looking infuriatingly composed for a man who had been undone only hours ago. He stopped when he saw me, his expression snapping back into that familiar, unreadable mask. "So," I started, my voice still raspy from the night before. "Let’s get the script out of the way, shall we? Is this the part where you look me in the eye and tell me last night was a momentary lapse in judgment ? " I set the mug down with a soft clink and leaned forward, my eyes dancing with mockery. "Are you going to call it a mistake, Xavier? Or are we going with 'stress-induced anomaly' today? I just want to make sure I have the right

CHRISTOPHER "You should have walked away tonight," Xavier murmured. I met his eyes. "So should have you." The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Xavier's gaze dropped to my lips, and for a moment, I thought he'd kiss me. "We're not doing this here." I raised an eyebrow. "Afraid of a little public display of affection?" His jaw clenched. "I'm not afraid of anything, Christopher. I just don't want to give them a show." I smiled, slow and sly. "You're already giving them a show, Xavier. You're just not sure if you're the star or the audience." He took a step closer, his voice low and rough. "You think you're funny, don't you?" I tilted my head. "I think I'm just getting started." Xavier’s hand shot out, his fingers threading into the hair at the nape of my neck with a sudden, bruising intensity that silenced the next witty remark. He didn’t pull away; he pulled me in until our chests collided, the heat radiating through his shirt. "Then start," he rasped,

CRISTOPHER The city was loud, alive, and exactly what I needed. Not the marriage. Not the ring. I left it on the dresser without a second thought. Whatever vows we said back there, they meant nothing here. The club pulsed with heat and bodies, music threading through my veins as I let myself disappear into it. Just movement - the press of someone else’s hands at my waist. “Relax,” the man behind me murmured, pulling me closer.I leaned back into him, letting the rhythm take over, letting my hands wander just enough to keep things interesting. For a moment, I almost forgot— Then I felt it.The cold, intense staring on my back. I turned. And there he was. Xavier. I smiled, and instead of stepping away, I leaned closer into my dance partner, letting my body move more deliberately now. Let him watch. Let's see how far this would go. “Enjoying yourself?” His voice slid through the music when he reached me. I turned slowly. “I was.” The man behind me stepped away witho

XAVIER The roses reeked of decay, their sweet perfume clingling to the back of my throat like a bad omen. The garden was a masterpiece of forced elegance, a tableau of white silk and crystal, the band's deliberate notes hanging in the air . It was the perfect setting for a perfect marriage – one that would cement my place in the family fortune . I stood at the altar, my palms slick with sweat, as the guests whispered behind their fans and champagne flutes. They were all here for the same reason: to witness a union that would either secure my place in my family wealth. And the bride was a no-show. Margaret had vanished, leaving behind the gown, the vows, and the carefully crafted facade. In another life, I might have admired her courage. A hand touched my elbow, and I turned to find Christopher, Margaret's twin, standing beside me, resplendent in his tuxedo. His eyes met mine, a spark of defiance in their depths. "You look like a man at his own execution," he murmured. "Exe