Masuk
Zenith's POV
Here I am, minding my own business, when suddenly, a pair of strong arms forcefully pull me into an almost suffocating embrace, from behind. I did not see him. I felt him, like a shadow wrapping around my spine before the arms ever touched me. From his strong physique to the restless, masculine energy radiating off him… I know that it's a man. I try to squirm out of his arms but it's a futile attempt. Then in a guttural voice he utters, "Mate!" At the same time, his head is buried on the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply. My first instinct is to scream. But weirdly, there’s no fear. My heartbeat spikes, yes, but it’s more from shock than panic. Who the hell is this guy? I stop struggling and wait for him to release me. He does, after what feels like forever. Then he turns me around and lo and behold! The guy is a stunner. I do not even know how to start describing him. He is donning blue jeans, black boots, a white t-shirt and a black leather jacket. His black hair is slightly tousled by the wind but still gives him a rugged but charming look. He has captivating blue eyes that feel like a vortex drawing me in. Heck, just looking into those eyes, I feel like I'm being drawn into the depth of a deep blue see. I shake my head slightly, mentally chiding myself for being shameless. How can I be drawn to a creep who has just molested me? Nonetheless, my eyes seem to have a mind of their own. I tried to focus, really, I did, but my brain short-circuited somewhere between that jawline and those maddeningly soft-looking lips. Ugh. Focus, Zen! Damnit! I should be questioning him, not just foolishly drooling! But I guess my head and my eyes are no longer in sync. Instead of stopping, my eyes slide down to his muscular chest, hands, six pack abs, his slim waist and damn! His thighs... Ugh! Stop it, Zen! Finally, my eyes stop but what's the use? They are done already! So, to cover my embarrassment, I clear my throat. "Ahem, sir? Don't you think that you crossed the line and you should be apologizing to me? You’re not one of those guys who think good looks excuse violating boundaries... are you?” The creepy hunk does not respond but just stares at me quietly. I rack my brain thinking of how I can get out of this situation. Since he grabbed me, he only uttered one word. For a split second, I wondered if he might have a medical condition. But no, he is different. I have volunteered with kids on the spectrum before. They were sensitive, thoughtful, and expressive in their own ways. This guy? He’s something else entirely. A mystery wrapped in muscle and silence. Still, if he needs kindness, I will offer it. "Hey, buddy. You called me mate, right? You want me to be your friend? No problem. I agree. I am new here anyway and could use a friend. My name is Zenith Valencia. But as my newly found friend, you can call me Zen. Handshake?" I extend my hand but then he quirks his brow and instead pulls me in for a hug. "Mate." This time, it is spoken in a gentle manner. Not as forceful as the first time. I do not need to be a seer to note that this guy has problems articulating himself. I am not a philanthropist but I am not wicked, either. I have had my fair share of the atrocities of life in my eighteen years. Irrespective of how good looking this guy is, he is also having his problems. If he needs a friend so badly, then I will be his friend or his mate, as he prefers. I gently pat his back and he breaks the hug. However, he quietly scrutinizes me and gently place his hands on my temples. I do not squirm but allow him to do as he pleases. I'm told that nonverbal people respond to gentleness. So, I am going to help this guy. The fact that he is alone at night, like me, he must have suffered some grievances. "Alejandro." He suddenly speaks but gently, this time. It takes me a while to figure it out. "Alejandro? Oh, dear! That's your name, right?" I look at him and he nods slowly. I smile and see his eyes twinkle. "Nice to meet you Alejandro. It's getting late and I should be heading home. I just came to the observatory to draw. I wanted to capture the beautiful sunset. Would you want to see my painting?" He nods slowly but his eyes have not left my face. It should creep me out but I feel an odd sense of safety with this guy. I show him my painting and he holds the canvas close to his heart. There is a tenderness in his eyes that is a bit unsettling but I know that he will not harm me. I pack up my paint brushes and stuff everything into my duffel bag. "Done! I need to get home and whip up a quick meal. I'm starving. Do you know your way home, Jandro? Or maybe, can I call someone to come pick you up?" When I shortened his name, I could see his eyes shinning but when I mentioned calling someone to come pick him up, the light in his eyes dimmed. My bungalow is just a mile away. He does not seem like he belongs anywhere. There is something in the way he clings to me, like a child trapped in a grown man's body. I do not sense danger, only loneliness. And if I can offer a little warmth tonight, why should I not? I look up at the sky and see the clouds gathering. There might be a storm tonight and no matter what, I cannot leave him alone outside. Remembering the weather report earlier on, there was going to be a torrential downpour. I sigh deeply before inviting him to go home with me. "Would you like to go home with me? I am almost always alone. I mean… I guess you could come over? Just for tonight. It’s not like I have anyone else around, and… well, I’d feel bad leaving you out here.” The way he nods his head enthusiastically is both amusing and heartbreaking. Life can truly be cruel. Such a fine young man with such a difficulty. Without another word, he snatches my duffel bag and effortlessly slings it onto his shoulder. Then he takes my hand as if it is the most natural thing to do. I almost pull my hand away then stop. There was a strange calmness about him, like he was not from here, not from this time. Whatever he was, he did not feel dangerous. Just… different. I feel no need for me to be mean to him. I lead him back to my place, like a big sister.Alejandro The mountain did not give warnings. It gave pressure, instead. I felt it before the alarms, before Koa’s sharp intake of breath over the mind-link, before the wards along the eastern ridge brightened from passive gold to a deeper, molten amber. Inferno stirred inside me, not rising, not emerging, but opening an eye. Not dangerous yet. But inevitability. I stood at the balcony doors, Tahoe stretched beneath the moon like a dark mirror, pine and stone and cold water layered in silence. The Haven behind me breathed as one organism now. Eighteen souls. Different races. Different wounds. One pulse. Alpha, Koa’s voice threaded in, steady but alert. We’ve got movement. Three signatures. Maybe four. They’re not pushing the wards… just standing at the outer line. Zenith appeared at my side without a sound. Barefoot. Wrapped in one of my sweaters. Her presence slid into mine like it always did, quiet, grounding, absolute. “They felt it,” she said softly. “Yes,” I replied. “And so
Zenith The villa did not sleep after Corin spoke.It listened. I felt it the moment the gates sealed again, how the wards settled not into rest, but into vigilance. Inferno’s power hummed through the stone beneath my bare feet, warm and alert, like a great beast choosing to remain awake because something important had entered its territory. History had crossed our threshold. Not roaring. Not demanding. But breathing. I watched Alejandro from across the hall as he stood with the folio still in his hands. He hadn’t opened it yet. He didn’t need to. Whatever was inside already spoke to Inferno in a language older than ink. The others felt it too. Valerius Drakos was motionless, his usual aristocratic composure tightened into something sharper, reverence edged with calculation. Cassian had gone very still, the way predators do when they realize the prey they’re tracking might actually be another apex. Ragnar’s presence cooled the air around him, frost-magic responding instinctively t
Alejandro The mountain villa never slept the way normal houses did. It breathed. After the fourth arrival crossed the threshold, the Haven shifted into a different rhythm. Softer. More alert. The wards hummed low beneath the floors, not alarmed, aware. Inferno felt it too. Not threat. Momentum. This was no longer an anomaly. It was a pattern. Rowan hovered near the dining area, forgotten bowl of food cooling in his hands as Zenith guided the burned witch toward the sitting room. He watched like someone afraid the kindness might evaporate if he blinked too long. I did not reassure him. This place did not run on promises. It ran on consistency. The vampire, young, barely holding himself together, sat rigidly at the far end of the room, hands clenched on his knees. Lucien stood nearby, silent and watchful but not looming. Cassian would have terrified the boy into obedience. Lucien simply existed beside him, a quiet reminder that survival here did not require cruelty. Inferno appr
Alejandro The call did not come through a phone. It came through the bond. I was in the lower hall when it hit, mid-step, mid-thought, like a low-frequency pull behind my sternum, deep enough to bypass instinct and land straight in the marrow. Inferno surged instantly, not alarmed, not aggressive but attentive. The way an ancient thing listens when the world clears its throat. I stopped. Zenith looked up from the long table where she had been grinding herbs, mortar pausing in her hands. She did not ask. She never had to. The bond carried it to her too, not the call itself, but the change in me. The stilling. The focus. “It’s not one,” I said. Her eyes softened, sharpened, all at once. “How many?” “Enough to matter.” Around us, the Haven adjusted without being told. Rowan’s shoulders squared where he stood near the hearth, bowl forgotten again. Lucien’s gaze slid to the windows, pupils thinning as if he could already see movement beyond the wards. Esme and Selene rose together, ha
Zenith I felt it before anyone spoke. Not as pain or as fear, but as stillness. The kind that settles when the air itself is waiting. Alejandro stood near the hearth, one hand braced against the stone mantle, his head bowed slightly as if listening to something far away. Inferno was close to the surface.I could tell by the way the shadows along the walls leaned toward him, by the way the wards hummed instead of sang. Even the Haven seemed to hold its breath. History had walked through our door tonight. And it had decided to stay. I moved toward him quietly, my bare feet soundless against the warm floor. The scent of home, sage, juniper, crushed lavender, and the faint mineral note of iron-rich water, wrapped around us, steady and familiar. I had worked hard for that scent. Vampires, wolves, rogues, witches… no one needed to be reminded every second that they were different. This place was supposed to be where the edges softened. Alejandro did not turn when I reached him. But his
AlejandroNo one spoke for a long moment. Not because they were afraid to, but because something older than instinct had been stirred, and even monsters know when silence is the only respectful response. History had not walked in shouting its name. It had sat at our table, folded its scarred hands, and spoken calmly about a time before any of us thought we were inevitable. Rowan was the first to break. Not with words, with breath. He let out a slow, disbelieving exhale, hands flattening against the wooden table like he needed the grain to anchor him. “You’re saying…” He stopped, swallowed, tried again. “You’re saying all of this, him, was real. Not legend. Not exaggeration.” Lucien’s gaze never left Eamon. “Legends,” the vampire said quietly, “are usually what remains when the truth is too heavy to carry intact.” Cassian leaned back in his chair, one boot hooking around the rung beneath him. His expression was unreadable, not mocking, not amused. That alone told me everything. Va







