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Chapter 53

Author: Christina Wilder
last update Last Updated: 2025-09-07 20:20:06

The storm did not creep in—it broke like a blade against stone.

The shudder that rattled the woods of Kaelith's palace was first felt by Elaria in the marrow of her bones. A ragged, harsh howl erupted in the distance, and a chorus of responding voices rolled down the valley like thunder through the night. Draven had warned her about wolves, but they weren't pack or loyal wolves. Whispers of dissent, of rebellion, had taken flesh. And now they were coming.

The heavy doors of the hall slammed back against the walls as Marrik burst inside, blood streaking his temple. His breath came in sharp bursts, his voice carrying the weight of alarm.

“They’ve broken through the western gates. At least fifty wolves, maybe more. They’re wearing Veylen’s mark.”

The name cut through Elaria like an old scar reopening. Veylen. The uncle who had twisted shadows around every fracture in her family. The storm had his hand in it—that much she knew without needing proof.

Draven was already moving, already a
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  • Bound to the Enemy’s Bed   Chapter 82

    The fire was gone.Elaria didn't believe it for a second. Her skin still burned with phantom heat, the noise still rang in her ears, and the taste of smoke clung to the back of her throat like cinders. Her eyesight was swimming as she stumbled forward, her knees giving way.Had it not been for Draven's iron hold on her wrist, she would have fallen into the circle of ash. His hand was blistered, the flesh charred, but he held her as if letting go meant death.Together, they stumbled out of the fire’s cradle.The pack echoed with gasps. The council stood up, their faces etched with astonishment and fear. Some wolves lowered their heads in homage; others bared their teeth in blatant distrust. No one talked at first—the quiet itself was a weapon, sharper than any blade.Pain screamed through Elaria's body. Her lungs were groping for air that smelled like blood and burned oil, and every nerve felt ripped. To keep them from seeing her stumble, she pushed herself to her feet and raised her c

  • Bound to the Enemy’s Bed   Chapter 81

    Dawn did not arrive without a fight.It sliced the night with a dreary, ruthless light, tearing through the keep like a sword. The world was left bare and the mountains huddled under veils of mist after the storm had broken. Kaelith Keep did not wake—it braced.Elaria felt it in every stone she walked across, in the weight of the air, in the silence of the pack as they gathered. No laughter echoed, no voices rose in casual greeting. Every wolf’s eyes were sharp, every breath held tight, as though the whole keep were a throat about to close.The Council Circle had been prepared.She had seen the circle used before: for blood oaths, for trials of dominance, for rituals old as the bones of the mountain itself. But never like this.Never for the Rite of Purity.The stone ring was blackened from generations of fire, its surface carved with runes so ancient even Kairis did not pretend to know them all. At its heart lay the pyre-pit, cold now, waiting.Waiting to be lit.Draven stood at her

  • Bound to the Enemy’s Bed   Chapter 80

    The decree still echoed in her skull, hammering with every heartbeat.The Rite of Purity is decreed.Elaria had heard countless judgments in that chamber—laws twisted, punishments weighed, edicts pronounced in voices that dripped with authority. But this… this had been different. This had not been politics, nor governance, nor law. This had been a death sentence dressed as ritual.The corridors of Kaelith Keep swallowed her and Draven whole as they left the council chamber behind. The long stone halls, lined with ancient banners and iron sconces, seemed to hum with silence. No servants whispered in corners, no guards muttered between shifts. Eyes followed them—wolves, attendants, allies, spies—but no one dared speak. Everyone knew tomorrow would decide everything.Draven walked at her side, tall, unyielding, every line of his body hard as carved obsidian. His silence was not absence—it was a shield, the weight of an Alpha carrying his fury like a sword sheathed just beneath the skin.

  • Bound to the Enemy’s Bed   Chapter 79

    The storm did not wait.It broke the moment the High Speaker raised his hand to call for order, and Rhovan’s voice cut through the chamber like steel through silk.“I move,” he said, rising fully now, the weight of his presence demanding the entire circle’s gaze, “that Lord Draven Kaelith be placed under immediate suspension of his Alpha rights until this council concludes a full inquiry into the shadow that haunts his bond.”The words were lightning.They cracked through the chamber, scorching away the whispers, igniting gasps and growls. The storm the council had been holding in their chests now roared loose, voices rising, banners trembling in the sudden surge of air as wolves half-shifted in their seats.Suspension. Not accusation. Not removal. But a strike as bold as a knife at Draven’s throat.Draven stood tall in the circle, shoulders squared, his wolf prowling behind his eyes. Yet Elaria felt the tension in his body—the instinct to leap, to fight, to tear the challenge to piec

  • Bound to the Enemy’s Bed   Chapter 78

    The chamber of the High Council was never quiet. It pulsed with the weight of authority, with eyes observing and judging, of millennia of law enshrined in stone, even when no voices spoke.That hum wasn't just background this morning; it was a storm brewing beneath the marble floor, slithering through the air like static and whispering across the arched ceiling. Every wolf in attendance felt it. Some relished it. Some feared it. None could ignore it.The council chamber was a circle, polished obsidian tables ringing the floor where the dais stood, each seat occupied by alphas or their chosen envoys. The banners of their packs hung behind them—colors and crests that represented entire bloodlines, legacies of pride, and in more recent years, grudges.At the center stood the raised circle where Draven and Elaria would be summoned, the eye of the storm.The doors opened with a weighty groan.Elaria felt the air shift before her eyes even adjusted to the blaze of braziers. The councilors l

  • Bound to the Enemy’s Bed   Chapter 77

    The keep felt different in the hours before dawn.It was not silence that wrapped its stone walls, but a kind of held breath, as though the very foundations of Kaelith knew the council would soon wake to blood and knives hidden in words.Elaria watched the fire burn low from the edge of the bed. Every word of her well prepared speech was already engraved into her memory as her fingers played with the parchment she had penned the previous evening. She didn’t need the words in ink anymore. They were in her bones.She was unable to let it go, though.Draven moved and the sheets rustled behind her. His presence filled the room like heat emanating from a fireplace, and she felt his stare before turning. He climbed out of bed, his chest exposed and scarred, every part of him etched by fights long before she had been thrown into this one.“You haven’t slept,” he said, voice low with sleep and steel.Elaria shook her head. “I can’t. If I close my eyes, I see the chamber already. I see Rhov

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