로그인Damien's mouth crashed back to hers with a ferocity that stole the air from her lungs.He pressed her harder against the tent pole, the rough wood biting into her bare back, and his hands swept down her sides with a possessive hunger that left trails of fire in their wake. Natasha gasped into the kiss, her fingers tangling in his blood-matted hair, pulling him closer, deeper, until there was no space left between them.His palms found her breasts, cupping them firmly, thumbs dragging over her peaked nipples until she moaned against his mouth. The sound seemed to unravel something in him. She felt it through the bond, a dark thread of need snapping taut, and he kneaded her flesh with a rougher grip, his fingers pressing into the soft curves until she arched into his hands."Damien," she breathed, her voice breaking on the syllable.He answered by trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her throat, his teeth grazing her pulse point before biting down gently, just enough to sting, enough
Damien crossed the battlefield in long, purposeful strides, uncaring of his nakedness, of the blood that streaked his chest and thighs, of the dead wolves and soldiers that lay scattered in his wake. His eyes never left Natasha. The bond between them pulled taut, thrumming with residual adrenaline and something deeper, something raw and hungry that neither of them had the will to suppress any longer.He reached her in seconds, his hands finding her waist, pulling her against him with a grip that brooked no argument."Let me see," he said, his voice rough, barely above a growl.Natasha's breath caught as his fingers moved to her wounded shoulder, peeling back the bandage with careful precision despite the trembling in his hands. The wound had nearly healed, the torn stitches had held, and the angry red edges had closed, leaving only a fading pink line where the gash had been. The deep bruising that had once surrounded it had faded to a faint yellowish shadow, barely visible against her
The Shadow Fang wolves hit Magnus's flank like a battering ram of fur and fangs.Marcus led the charge in his grey wolf form, his massive body slamming through the shield wall and scattering soldiers like leaves in a gale. Gideon followed close behind, his dark wolf tearing through the broken formation with silent, lethal precision, jaws closing around throats and ripping before his victims could scream.The night erupted into a symphony of violence, snarls, the wet snap of bone, the gurgling choke of men dying with their throats torn open.Magnus's soldiers, already battered from Natasha's traps and archers, broke formation entirely. Some tried to flee back toward the tree line only to find more wolves waiting. Others dropped their weapons, falling to their knees in desperate surrender that the wolves ignored, because tonight was not a night for prisoners.Natasha pressed forward through the chaos, her blade still singing. A soldier lunged at her from the left, and she sidestepped, d
Natasha crouched behind the barricade of felled timber, her breath steady despite the ache radiating from her healing shoulder.The bond pulsed warm in her chest.Damien's satisfaction.His victory.His blood-soaked triumph bleeding through the tether like a second heartbeat.He'd won.She felt it in her bones.But the relief was fleeting because the eastern tree line had gone quiet in the wrong way, and every instinct she possessed screamed that something was coming.She turned to the warrior at her left, a young man named Torin whose hands trembled on his spear."Steady," she murmured. "You don't need to be brave. You just need to hold the line."He swallowed hard and nodded.Natasha rose just enough to scan the perimeter.The traps she'd ordered were buried beneath layers of leaves and loose soil.Pits lined with sharpened stakes.Tripwires connected to swinging log flails.Coiled snares designed to catch ankles and snap bone.They stretched across the most likely approach vectors,
The column moved through the mist like a blade sliding from its sheath.Silent.Deliberate.Lethal.Damien rode at the front, his senses stretched wide, cataloging every sound, every shift in the wind, every distant bird call that might signal movement ahead.The bond tugged at his chest, Natasha's presence a warm ember against the cold morning air, but he shoved it down.There would be time for that later.Right now, there was only the hunt.Thornwick's forward camp sat in a shallow valley three miles east—poorly positioned, poorly defended, and utterly unaware of what was coming for them.Damien had sent two scouts ahead at midnight, and they'd returned with sketches of the camp layout: tents arranged in loose clusters, cook fires still smoldering, sentries posted at the tree line but facing the wrong direction.Sloppy.Lazy.Magnus had grown comfortable, assuming his flanking force would keep Shadow Fang distracted.He was about to learn how wrong he was.Damien raised his fist.Th
The warriors settled into their positions with the practiced stillness of wolves bedding down before a hunt.Muscles ached. Bones protested the cold ground. But eyes stayed sharp—darting to shadows, tracking every rustle of leaves, every snap of distant twigs.Sleep came in fragments.No one truly rested.They couldn't afford to.Natasha moved through the camp like a ghost, checking each placement, each trap, each hidden line of defense.Her fingers traced the tripwire anchored between two oaks, testing its tension.Satisfied, she crouched beside a spike pit and adjusted the layer of leaves concealing the sharpened stakes below.One wrong placement. One glint of moonlight catching the wood. The entire snare would be useless."Too visible on the left edge," she muttered to the warrior crouched beside her, pressing more debris into place. "If Magnus's scouts are worth anything, they'll spot that. Fix it."The warrior nodded and moved without question.Her shoulder throbbed—a deep, insis
Damien’s wolf had been clawing at his ribs for hours, a relentless, snarling pressure that made every polite smile a lie. The moment he’d walked into the ballroom and caught Natasha’s scent—wildflowers and steel—the beast inside him had lunged against its chains. Mate. The word was a drumbeat in hi
The ballroom no longer felt like a celebration.It felt like observation.Natasha moved through it with controlled precision, each step measured, each expression carefully restrained. The emerald gown made her feel exposed in ways armor never had, not because it was revealing, but because it was des
The carriage stopped beneath the grand estate of the Alpha King, and Natasha immediately understood why warriors preferred battlefields over silk diplomacy.Because battlefields at least made sense.The emerald gown her sister had forced onto her clung like a second skin, elegant in a way that felt
"You're twenty-two and still unmated."The words followed Natasha across the training grounds like an unwanted shadow.She ignored them.With a sharp twist, she caught her brother's wrist and used his momentum against him. Kael hit the dirt hard enough to shake the ground beneath them.A chorus of w







