Masuk“What do you mean the council sent you?” I ask, doing my best not to let my panic show. Fuck. Were the trials beginning already? Would I not have enough time to train? Damon and I had barely scratched the surface of anything before those tear drop seeds turned me into a crying mess. A cold feeling settles heavily in my stomach. Training. Control. According to Damon, I barely had either. And I was beginning to think he was right. Soorayah turns toward me slowly, looking mildly annoyed that I interrupted her dramatic silence. “I currently occupy the position of council ambassador for the Luna Trials.” “That doesn’t make any sense,” Mason cuts in immediately. “You’re not even from this pack. And you’re definitely not part of the council.” She shrugs lightly. “My father is,” she says. Then her eyes flick briefly toward Damon. “And he recommended me.” A pause. “Since the Alpha refused the council’s request for Michaela to occupy the official lodging required
“Who is she?” I ask Damon the moment we are alone.He had just sent Mason to prepare a room for Soorayah and told Rhoda to collect the suppressants from her.I hadn’t been dismissed.And I had no intention of leaving.Not yet.I had questions.And I wanted answers.Damon watches me for a moment.He says nothing.I wait.“You called me Damon,” he says eventually, after a long stare-off where neither of us seems willing to look away first.I blink, caught off guard.I hadn’t expected that.“What?” I ask, not understanding.“You said my name.”I stare at him, trying to figure out why that matters right now.“And this is important because…?”“You never say my name,” he replies, his eyes never leaving mine.Oh.It’s true.I have always called Damon by his surname.I don’t even remember when it started.I think it’s because we have always been enemies.Even when we were children.There was never any exchange of words between us that ended well.It was always Carylon.It has always been dist
“What do you mean the council sent you?” I ask, doing my best not to let my panic show. Fuck. Were the trials beginning already? Would I not have enough time to train? Damon and I had barely scratched the surface of anything before those tear drop seeds turned me into a crying mess. A cold feeling settles heavily in my stomach. Training. Control. According to Damon, I barely had either. And I was beginning to think he was right. Soorayah turns toward me slowly, looking mildly annoyed that I interrupted her dramatic silence. “I currently occupy the position of council ambassador for the Luna Trials.” “That doesn’t make any sense,” Mason cuts in immediately. “You’re not even from this pack. And you’re definitely not part of the council.” She shrugs lightly. “My father is,” she says. Then her eyes flick briefly toward Damon. “And he recommended me.” A pause. “Since the Alpha refused the council’s request for Michaela to occupy the official lodging required for the duratio
So everybody seems to know Soorayah. Everyone except me. “What is she doing here?” Mason asks, doing nothing to hide the bite in his voice. “Good to see you too, Mace,” Soorayah says with mock sweetness. “Don’t call me that,” he snaps. Soorayah walks toward him slowly, like she has all the time in the world. Her smile never slips for even a second. She runs a finger lightly down Mason’s chest. “Still as charming as ever… Mace,” she says again, intentionally emphasizing the nickname. Mason grabs her wrist and shoves her hand away hard enough to make the bracelets around her wrists clink softly. “Don’t touch me,” he grits out. Something flashes briefly across Soorayah’s face. Satisfaction. As though provoking him had been the goal all along. No one moves to stop them. Damon sits behind the cracked desk Mason had positioned earlier, his expression unreadable. Rhoda watches silently from the far side of the room, her arms folded tightly across herself. No one seems willing
Damon doesn't move a muscle.His eyes remain on mine.I tilt my head slightly, just enough to see who just entered the room.I don’t recognize her at first.But there’s something about her that tugs at the edges of memory.Long blonde waves spill over her shoulders as she steps in, blue eyes sweeping across the room as though the destruction here is nothing more than decor.Her gaze lands on Damon.Then on me.And stays there.A beat too long.Unabashedly.Her gaze is sharp in a way that feels practiced rather than powerful.A smile curves her lips.Wide.Carefully composed.The kind of smile that looks polite until you notice the teeth behind it.“Did I interrupt something?” she asks lightly. “This is the time of the meeting, isn't it?”Only then does Damon shift his attention.Not quickly.He doesn't seem startled by this woman's presence.At her voice, his attention redirects, like I had never been the center of his focus at all.And something about that makes me despise this woman
“Well…” she says carefully. “He is not in a very good mood.” I turn to Coby and tell him I'd be back as soon as I can to finish up his crown. He nods absently, too invested in weaving the poppies into something that would hold. I don’t ask any more questions. Emory doesn’t offer any more answers. We walk down the corridors in complete silence. The quiet presses in, thick and watchful. My steps seem awfully loud as they contrast the quiet hum of the evening. My steps slow slightly as we approach the study doors. The doors are open. Not just open though. They were left open. Something in my chest tightens. Emory stops a few steps behind me. She doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t need to. She would not go in. Something tells me it is more out of fear than respect. I push the door open the rest of the way and step inside. The first thing I notice— is the silence. Heavy and pressing. It seems to have followed me through my journey from the gardens and into Damon's study. After
I watch as the car pulls up to the curb.I leave my bedroom window and rush downstairs, taking a steadying breath before opening the front door.Cole remains in the driver’s seat, waiting.He’s been driving Talia and me to school ever since he got his license three years ago. Even after graduating,
I scrub my hands longer than necessary.The sink squeaks when I turn it off.I count to ten before I reach for his door.He hates when I knock before entering his room.I do it anyway.I wait a second before turning the knob and stepping inside.There’s a bottle of sanitizer on the table by his cot
Damon has never let a slight go unpunished. Which means I’m either already dead… or something is very, very wrong. By noon, Damon should have humiliated me. At least twice. He hadn’t even looked at me. I keep glancing over my shoulder, half convinced I woke up in some parallel universe w
What are you doing?Somewhere in the back of my mind, a small, rational voice tries to break through.My fingers grow bolder.They trace a slow path across his shoulder, up the side of his throat, along the sharp line of his jaw.His breathing changes.I hear it.Feel it.The low growl building in h







