“He’s my enemy, my father’s killer… and my fated mate.” Elaria Veyne hates Alpha Draven Kaelith with every breath. The ruthless Alpha destroyed her family and left her pack in ruins. But when a rogue attack leaves him injured and memoryless, fate traps them together. She’s forced to heal him in secret, locked in her chambers, sharing the same bed. He doesn’t remember the blood he spilled—only that his wolf wants her. Craves her. Calls her mate. Elaria swore she’d never fall for him. But how long can she resist when his touch ignites her every nerve… and his kiss feels like destiny? Because when his memories return, she might lose him forever—or worse, he might claim her completely.
Lihat lebih banyakThe long, thin night following the vote was marked by a humming of fatigue rather than serenity.Elaria had trouble sleeping. The crown, if it could be called that, was a circlet of silver thorns that had been hammered into shape and was resting on the table close to the bed. In the moonlight, it glowed dimly, a silent reminder that power was never kind.Beside her, half-awake, was Draven. The pale ridges of scorched flesh that traced the kiss of the Rite's flames down his back were still healing. She stroked the lines of one scar, feeling the trembling of his breath beneath her palm.He whispered without opening his eyes, "You're awake."“So are you,” she said.His mouth curled into a tiny smile. "It's difficult to fall asleep when I can sense your thoughts."With a sigh, she leaned into his shoulder curve. "The issue isn't with thinking. It’s what comes after.”The gray of his eyes caught the little light that came in through the shutters when he opened them.“The council?”“The coun
The keep had gone still.The smoke had long since been burned away by dawn, but the smell of it persisted in the ripped flags, the scorched wood, and the crevices of the stone. With its ceiling half gone and its walls streaked with soot where the firelight had kissed it, the enormous council chamber was now exposed to the morning air.With her hands clasped behind her back, Elaria stood amidst the debris, observing the gradual movement of sunlight across the floor. Each beam of light showed the same thing: the council had barely made it out alive.Draven’s shadow stretched beside hers. His forearms were marked with recent burns and scars that resembled stories written in flesh, and he had rolled his sleeves to the elbow after taking off his damaged coat. Their silence wasn't uncomfortable; it was essential.There were no accusations, no voices yelling over each other, and no tactics to hone before the next blow for the first time in days. The only sound was quiet.“You should sit,” Dr
Through the smoke, dawn sliced like a blade.The council's vast keep was still shaking from the previous night's mayhem. The banners that hung from the tall windows swirled in a breeze that smelt of iron and frost, and the sky beyond was the color of ash, flecked with faint red like blood veins.Elaria watched as wolves below started to congregate while she stood on the balcony above the council hall, her palms pushed against the chilly rail. Low-burning torches and murmuring voices in shifting currents of distrust were heard.This was the silence before a hunt, not the silence before a vote.He and she had not slept, and the tension between them was not fear but a razor-sharp focus, and Draven moved to stand next to her, his presence steady despite the fatigue lining his features.He whispered, "They're getting together earlier than expected."Elaria’s eyes followed the movement below. “Rhovan’s trying to set the stage before we arrive. He wants to dictate the rhythm of the day.”Dra
The scent of smoke and iron was still present in the corridor outside the council room. Along the marble pillars, wolves had left their fury in claw marks that were so deep that the smell of blood still permeated them. Elaria stood with her hand braced against the hard stone, breathing through the weight of it all as the last shouting echo faded.Draven stood silently next to her, as the hallway fade into darkness. His throat still had the subtle dark bruises of confinement; his shirt was half-ripped from the fight that almost broke out at the end. But when she faced him, it was evident that his anger was subdued.“They would have torn each other apart if Kairis hadn’t called the recess,” he said at last.Elaria nodded, her voice low. “That was the point.”He tilted his head. “Yours?”“Partly. Rhovan’s too. He wanted chaos. I wanted them to see it.”She straightened, letting the council’s noise fade behind her. “Now they know what’s at stake when they follow him. Wolves remember the s
The chamber erupted the instant silence was no longer enforced.The council ignited like flint to tinder after the final echoes of Veylen's coerced testimony hung to the air like smoke. Sharp as claws, voices raised, cries overlapped, chairs scraped stone, and some jumped to their feet. The place was now a lair of wolves rather than a chamber of law, with each whiff of blood igniting the next.“Proof! She’s twisted proof!” one elder snarled, slamming a fist against the table. “This is sorcery!”“Or perhaps,” another snapped back, eyes flashing with hunger, “it is Rhovan who we should call traitor! Look at his hands! Look at the shadow he dragged in here under pretense of truth!”Draven stood at her shoulder, his jaw locked, his shoulders taut, every muscle pulled toward violence—held only by her steadying touch against his wrist—while Elaria sat in the storm's eye, her palms flat against the stone table, her breath slow but her pulse thundering. Half the council roared for judgment, t
When the staff hit again and the tribunal was summoned to recess, the chamber was still reverberating with the echoes of the commotion.Elaria hardly recalled getting up and strolling along the stone hallways that twisted away from the council floor with Draven. Faces, whispers, and the weight of adversarial stares all became hazy until the guards finally opened a heavy oak door and led them into a private room reserved for the accused to speak with their attorneys.The door thudded shut, and Draven slammed his fist into the stone wall with a ragged growl that was half-exhale, half-snarl. Like thunder, the boom reverberated, with dust flying from the crack his impact had created.With his hands clenched and unclenched, he paced the length of the narrow chamber like a wolf in a cage, spitting, "Chains and blood." He dares to parade Veylen like some trophy, as if truth can be squeezed out of bones with enough effort. He dares—”“Draven.”Her forceful yet gentle voice sliced through his
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