INICIAR SESIÓNKieran
The howl comes while I’m arguing with an invoice.
It cuts through the keep like a blade, high and sharp and wrong. Not a hunting call. Not a greeting. An alert.
My quill drops, splattering ink across the ledger and a second later, Marcus is at my door.
“Eastern ridge,” he says, already half-shifted. “Patrol caught a scent that doesn’t belong.”
<KieranThe problem with basically saying I love you is that the words don’t go away the next morning.They just hang there. In the air. In my head. In the way Alexei hands me my cloak like it’s something precious instead of something I only remember to wear half the time.I’m not used to feelings sticking.Orders, yes. Insults, definitely. Praise, rarely.Love?My brain doesn’t know where to file it.By mid-morning, I’ve ruined three drafts of the same letter.“Stop glaring at the parchment,” Lyra says from the other side of my desk. “It’s not responsible for your mood.”“I’m not glaring,” I snap.“You’re doing the stabby eyebrow thing,” she says. “Either sign that letter to Blackthorn or go bite someone. The indecision is making me nervous.”I throw the quill down.“It’s not the letter,” I mutter.“Obviously,” she says. She lets the silence sit for a beat. Then, casually, “So. You and Alexei are… good?”Heat flashes up my neck. “That’s not council business.”“I’m not wearing my counc
KieranHe watches me with wolf-bright eyes and stretches languidly, muscles rippling under his fur, and then rolls onto his side, exposing his belly again. It’s a ridiculous, reckless invitation, designed to seduce me.My wolf moves without consulting the rest of me.I step into his space. I nudge his flank with my nose, a low whine in my throat. I’m asking permission, saliva already dripping from my muzzle with the urge to lick him.
KieranThe howl comes while I’m arguing with an invoice.It cuts through the keep like a blade, high and sharp and wrong. Not a hunting call. Not a greeting. An alert.My quill drops, splattering ink across the ledger and a second later, Marcus is at my door.“Eastern ridge,” he says, already half-shifted. “Patrol caught a scent that doesn’t belong.”
AlexeiThree days after he said enough, Kieran asks me to run away with him.Not permanently. Just for the evening.He appears in my doorway at dusk, hair damp from a hurried wash, cloak slung over one shoulder. “Come with me,” he says, without preamble.“That’s ominous.”
KieranHe doesn't give me time to think. He starts to fuck, his rhythm deep and punishing. He’s not making love right now, he’s erasing. He’s pounding the day out of me. Every thrust is a declaration, pushing the air from my lungs, driving the ghosts from my head.“Yes,” he pants, his hips slamming down. “Take my cock. Take all of it. You’re so fucking good, Kieran. So tight for me. Whose are you?”“Yours!” I shout, my voice breaking. “
KieranA knock interrupts us, which I’m mostly grateful for.Marcus steps in, armor half-buckled, hair still damp from his morning ablutions.“Apologies for the intrusion,” he says. His eyes flick between the two of us, the tray, the state of disarray. His expression doesn’t change. Much. “We have a situation on the western slope.”







