Novels by Olivia

By the fourth morning, I finally made it over the ridge.That’s where the real old-growth began. It wasn’t just big trees, everything felt changed. The air pressed in heavy and unmoving, not empty but crowded, like stepping into a room full of people all holding their breath. Trees like nothing I’d seen; not the tall, skinny kind you get in young woods, but fat and ancient, with bark so deeply rutted it looked like someone carved it by hand. Roots cracked up through the earth, weaving along the surface like the spine of something buried deep and patient. Underneath, the plants huddled low to the ground, twisted in strange ways, and what light managed to filter down came in thin, greenish shards, like sunlight shining through water.I stood at the edge, looking down.The mark on my shoulder grew warm, one pulse. Solid. Not a warning, but something closer to: yes.Honestly, I’d known since the first morning. I picked east because that’s the way it pulled me, though I wouldn’t let myself

I caught their scent on the second afternoon.Three males, drifting in from the west. No pack-bond, just rogues, running loose. I pretended they’d wander off, lose interest, but I could smell them keeping pace with me through the trees. Not closing, just there.By dusk, I quit pretending.They stepped out of the treeline, three shadows. The leader was big, scarred jaw, eyes hard and final. He looked me over, gaze locked on my left side, where the blood had soaked in.“Long way from a pack,” he said.“And yet, here I am,” I shot back.He grinned, stepped closer. “You’re bleeding.”“And you’re stalling.” I leveled him with a look. “Say what you want.”He reached for me.I broke two of his fingers before he touched me. Caught his wrist, twisted past the breaking point. The snap was sharp, the noise he made less so. I was already moving to the second one as the first doubled over.The next one went low, aiming for my legs.We went down hard. The pain in my side flared, white-hot, mind-cle

Dirt filled my mouth.At first, none of it made sense. I just lay there, blind and confused, wondering if I’d rolled out of bed by accident. My brain started running interference, tossing up excuses, trying anything to avoid the truth it didn’t really want to face.Then I tried to sit up. The earth pushed back.Packed tight, above, below, all sides. Cold and damp and heavy, squeezing my chest, my legs, my arms. I turned my head, and soil slipped into my ear. That’s when I got it. Not in bits and pieces, but all at once.They’d buried me.I didn’t move. Just took slow, shallow breaths through my nose and let reality line itself up. The ceremony. Zevran’s face. Selene. Coran’s muffled voice. The figure in my room. The blade, cold first, then burning, and then nothing. Then dark and dirt and waking up in the ground.Something twisted awake in my chest. Slow at first, then picking up speed, and pretty soon it was past any emotion I could name. I felt it radiate out from my sternum, my fin

I wasn’t asleep when the door opened.Not Mira. Step too heavy, deliberate, someone sneaking in because they don’t care about rules. I was on my feet before I realized, knife from under my pillow already in hand, held low, how Gareth taught me years back.Don’t hold it high. High means you want to stab. Low means you’ve already decided.Door swung open. Light slashed across the room.Zevran.Didn’t lower the knife.He saw it, then me. Expression hidden in the shadows, but he’d changed out of ceremony clothes. Plain grey training gear. Eyes tired, not from the hour.“Kaelis......”“Don’t.”He stopped.“I’m not here to explain myself.”“Then why are you here?”He eyed the knife. “Will you put it down?”“No.”He sighed, stepped inside, closed the door, leaned back against it. Arms crossed. Kept plenty of space between us. Smart move.“You have to leave,” he said. “Tonight. Before morning.”I stared.“I mean it,” he said. “I know how it sounds. I know you have every right......”“No idea

I went back to my room.I didn't run. Walked like I always did, back straight, steady pace. My mother drilled that into me at twelve, after Dara Greycliff mocked my training form in front of the junior pack. Walk like you know where you’re going, especially when you don’t, she said. That’s the whole point.So I walked that way now, through the grounds, up the stairs, into my room. Closed the door, leaned against it.Just stood a moment.Pulled out my grandmother’s bone clasps. One by one. Set them on the dresser. Tiny clicks against wood. Outside, faint noises from the ceremony lingered, celebration, pack voices stretching into night.I sat on the bed.Selene.I turned her name over, prodding at it like a bruise. Had I really missed it? Wolves are supposed to sense shifts, airs changing, moods, smells. I lived beside them for years and felt nothing.Or maybe I did, and just didn’t call it out. Naming it would make it real.I pressed my hands to my knees, stared at the wall.We don’t g

I was really trying not to be nervous.That’s what I kept repeating as Mira worked the laces on the back of my ceremonial dress. Her hands moved fast and sure, the silk tightening across my ribs with each tug. The Mating Ceremony? I’d been prepping for years. I watched three girls do it before me, stood in that circle, knew exactly how it was supposed to go. Knew what to expect.What I wasn’t ready for was me being the one in the spotlight.Stop it, I thought. You earned this.I did. Five years, training with Zevran. Ran the same routes, bled on the same ground, ate at the same table. The pack watched, nodded, called me Luna before any ceremony. You know how it is, everyone just assumes, so no one needs to say it out loud.“Hold still,” Mira snapped, nearly at the end of the laces.“I am still!”“Your shoulders are hunched.”I forced them down. She finished, circled in front, and the look on her face, her smile barely there, softer than usual, said she knew exactly what was going on i