Novel-novel oleh Ava

Alaric’s POV My fists were still trembling, the residual adrenaline of the confrontation coursing through my veins. I could feel the dull throb of the scrape on my knuckles from where they’d connected with Lysander’s arrogant jaw—a sharp, satisfying impact that had barely scratched the surface of the consuming fury that still burned within me. How dare he touch her? How dare he look at her with that possessive glint in his eyes, as if she were some prize to be won, something to conquer? The possessive rage was a living thing inside me, a primal fire threatening to consume me whole. My wolf was clawing just beneath the surface, snarling and restless, demanding blood. Demanding retribution. Demanding justice for the blatant disrespect. But beneath the burning rage, a flicker of something colder, more unsettling, remained. She’d looked… scared. Not of him. Of me. I replayed the chaotic scene over and over in my mind as I stormed down the deserted corridor, the air around me prac

Elowen’s POV Next morning the academy's cafeteria hummed with the chaotic symphony of midday: the incessant clatter of ceramic trays against metal surfaces, the low murmur of countless conversations weaving together, punctuated by the occasional burst of unrestrained laughter erupting from various clusters of students. I had sought refuge at a secluded table near the far wall, a steaming cup of lukewarm tea clutched in my hands, my thoughts adrift somewhere between the intricate strategies discussed in Professor Vance’s tactics lecture and the stolen, breathless intimacy of our rooftop rendezvous. The triplets were currently immersed in mandatory combat training, a rigorous session reserved for high-ranking shifters, and I had deliberately chosen this quieter hour to slip away, craving a moment of solitary contemplation. For once, the relentless demands of academy life seemed to recede, leaving a fragile semblance of peace in its wake. That fleeting tranquility shattered the moment

Elowen’s POV Before I could even form a coherent response, he captured my lips with a fierce, possessive hunger, his hands moving with a renewed urgency, exploring every inch of exposed skin with a desperate need. The lingering tension from our sparring match dissolved into a raw, primal desire that mirrored my own burgeoning need. His knee nudged my legs apart with a subtle command, and he settled his weight more fully against me, the hard ridge of his arousal pressing insistently against the slick heat gathering between my thighs. A sharp gasp escaped my lips, my body arching instinctively into his, a silent plea for connection. I needed him, wanted him, with a ferocity that eclipsed anything I had ever felt before. With a low, guttural groan that rumbled deep in his chest, he entered me, filling me completely. His pace was slow, deliberate, each thrust a measured exploration, the rhythm designed to stoke the already blazing fires within me until they burned hotter than the midda

Elowen's POV “I love this version of you, Ranon,” I whispered, my voice husky with desire. “The one that’s not afraid to want me, to claim me.” He looked down at me, his amber eyes blazing with a fierce, possessive light. “Then I’ll show you all of me, Elowen. Every single part.” His gaze dropped to my lips, lingering there for a breathless moment before returning to my eyes, filled with a raw intensity that made my heart pound. He shifted, his weight pressing more fully against me, the hard planes of his body a stark reminder of his strength, his possessiveness. “You feel it too, don’t you, Elowen?” he murmured, his voice thick with a desire that mirrored my own burgeoning need. “This… connection between us. It’s different. Fiercer.” I nodded, unable to articulate the complex emotions swirling within me. The bond I shared with all three of them was unique, a tapestry woven with different threads of affection, passion, and unwavering loyalty. But there was a raw, untamed in

Elowen’s POVThe sun, a molten orb sinking towards the horizon, cast long, dramatic shadows across the secluded sparring field nestled behind the ancient stone walls of the academy. Golden rays, thick and warm, bled across the soft, yielding grass, painting the familiar landscape in hues of amber and rose. The other students, their energy spent after the rigorous combat class, had long since scattered back to the relative comfort of their quarters, but I had lingered, my body still thrumming with the residual adrenaline of earlier matches, and my heart… still a tangled mess of conflicting emotions that the physical exertion hadn’t quite managed to unravel.“I knew you’d wait.”The deep, familiar timbre of his voice sent a shiver down my spine. I turned slowly.Ranon stepped out of the long shadows cast by the ancient oak trees bordering the training ground, his presence as always both silent and undeniably solid. His dark training shirt clung to the sculpted lines of his torso, damp w

Elowen’s POVThe echoing halls of the academy pulsed with the raw, untamed energy of morning, a palpable hum of anticipation and nervous excitement as students streamed towards their respective classrooms. Today was combat day, a stark reminder of the volatile world we inhabited, where grudges often manifested as bruises and the subtle dance of flirtation could ignite into something far more dangerous, far more real. The sharp, metallic scent of steel mingled with the faint, musky tang of sweat already permeating the air, a sensory cocktail that spoke of both discipline and potential violence.I walked with a deliberate stride between Alaric and Theron, their presence a comforting, possessive shield against the curious and often hostile gazes that followed me like persistent shadows. Ranon trailed a step behind, his movements fluid and silent, a dark, watchful presence that lingered even when he didn’t utter a single word. The other students parted as we moved through the crowded corr

Jaxon's POV And in the darkness, with no one watching, I finally let go. My touch roamed, possessive and demanding, learning every inch of her body like a map, committing every curve and gasp to memory. My control slipped. My fingers dug into her hip, marking her soft skin. But she only arched closer. It wasn’t enough. I couldn't get close enough, couldn’t taste enough, couldn't give her enough of what I felt. It would never be enough. And in that moment, I knew. I knew I would burn the whole world to ash before I gave her up. I would break every rule, tear down anyone who dared try to take her away, and keep her safe no matter the cost. Because Amara was mine. And I would rather die than lose her. --- Amara's POV I couldn't breathe. His lips, his touch, the way his hips moved against mine—every part of him was fire, and I was burning. His touch was rough, desperate, his control slipping. I wanted it to slip. I wanted him to stop hiding, to show m

Jaxon's POV I stayed with her until her breathing evened out again, until the tremble in her hands stopped. But even then, I couldn’t shake the image of Alex’s hand resting on her lower back, the way he looked at her like she was something he had a right to touch.He didn’t.She wasn’t his to lean toward, to whisper to like he knew her heart.She wasn’t mine either. Not really.But God help anyone who thought they could take her.The second Amara excused herself to head to the infirmary for a quick check, I stood. My body was already tense, fists tight at my sides as I tracked Alex down the hallway that led to the east courtyard.He was alone—good. I didn’t want an audience.“Alex,” I called out.He turned, surprised to see me. “Hey, Jaxon. What’s up?”I didn’t respond. Just kept walking until I was toe-to-toe with him.He looked at me carefully. “Everything okay?”“No. It’s not.” My voice was low, steady. Dead calm—the kind of calm that comes right before the storm.His expression t

Jaxon's POV The sun bore down on the academy training grounds like it had a personal vendetta. Heat shimmered off the concrete in waves, and the clang of steel-on-steel rang out like a war drum. Students lined up in pairs, sparring and barking at each other like rabid dogs under the instructor’s glare. Dust clouded the air with every scuffed boot.But none of that mattered to me.Because all I could focus on was her.Amara.She stood across the field, squared up against a taller opponent, sweat dripping down the side of her temple. Normally, she’d be focused, graceful—even lethal—but today?Something was off.Her steps were slower, her reactions a beat late. Her face was pale, like someone had drained the life from her skin. I watched her sway slightly, blink too long between parries.My gut clenched.“Switch!” barked the instructor, and Amara stumbled back from the next attacker.No. This wasn’t right.I started moving before I even made the decision, weaving past students until I r

Amara’s POV The dawn broke over the pack territory, painting the sky in hues of bruised purple and hesitant gold, a reflection of the uneasy truce that had settled over us. The immediate threat of the entity’s direct influence had been severed, but the lingering tension remained, a palpable awareness of the storm that was yet to break. The raw line across my arm throbbed, a constant reminder of the price of our temporary reprieve. Weakness still clung to me, a lingering drain from the magical exertion and the severing of the unnatural bond. But beneath the physical fragility, a new resolve began to solidify, forged in the crucible of fear and sacrifice. We knew the entity would not remain silent for long. Its enraged shriek still echoed in our memories, a promise of retribution. The time of desperate defense was over; we needed to prepare, to gather our strength, and to meet the coming darkness head-on. Lyra and her warriors, their commitment unwavering, pledged to remain with us

Amara’s POVThe air in the library crackled with an almost unbearable tension, the chanting of Lyra’s mages a resonant hum that vibrated through the very floor beneath our feet. The swirling energies intensified, bathing the room in an ethereal glow, the ancient symbols on the floor blazing with an inner light. The weight of the moment pressed down on us, the precipice of hope balanced precariously against the abyss of potential failure.My hand trembled as I held the ceremonial dagger, its silver blade reflecting the frantic dance of candlelight. The unwavering gazes of Ryder, Caden, and Jaxon were fixed on me, their love a tangible force, a silent offering of courage and support. Tears streamed down my face, a torrent of fear, love, and a desperate grief for the sacrifice they were willing to make.“There has to be another way,” I choked out, my voice thick with emotion. “I can’t…”“You have to, Amara,” Ryder said, his voice low but firm, his silver eyes filled with an unyielding re

Amara’s POV The discovery of the severing ritual ignited a fragile spark of hope amidst the encroaching darkness, but the ancient text’s ominous warnings cast a long shadow over our preparations. The need for a convergence of powerful magical energies immediately turned our thoughts to Lyra and her pack. Their inherent connection to the wild, their unique blend of elemental magic, could be the key to fulfilling the ritual’s demanding requirements.A tense message was sent to Lyra, outlining the dire situation and the perilous ritual we intended to undertake. The inherent risk was undeniable, and the potential consequences of failure were catastrophic. We held our breath, the weight of our desperation hanging heavy in the air, unsure if she would be willing to risk her pack, and potentially herself, for our sake.Lyra’s response, when it finally arrived, was a testament to the strength of our fragile alliance and the depth of her own courage. She agreed to come, bringing with her her