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A Good Morning
publish date:
2026-10-29 15:33:17
Latest chapter
From Pack Slave to Lycan Princess The Rebels
We travel in half phase, caught between human and lycan. In this form we smell and see far better than we do as humans and keep a lycan's speed and agility, but without the full claws and long fangs we'd need to fight like true lycans. We follow their faint scent past the Royal grounds, into the woods, and down into the valley. Moonlight bounces off the snow until everything looks bright as day. "Stop!" Selene's voice is guttural, her jet-black eyes sweeping the landscape. She knows this land better than any of us, so we follow her lead. "We're getting close to a werewolf pack's territory." "Look," says Livana, pointing at a small house barely visible through the trees. We're standing on a low rise above the valley. The house is about a hundred and fifty yards off, and I think it marks the edge of the pack's land. I can already smell unfamiliar scents on the wind. "Do you smell that?" I ask, sniffing the air. The other three lift their noses. "Blood!" Aurelia snarls. Blood, smoke
From Pack Slave to Lycan Princess Dinner
I look around the table. Here we are again in the Formal Dining Room, having dinner with the King Emeritus, the Queen Dowager, the Duke. Lady Seraphina sits among them, awfully quiet. I'm determined to enjoy my meal this time. I lived in constant hunger at the pack house, and I'll never take food for granted. Besides, I'm starving. I loved the run back to the palace from the forest this evening. All eight of us ran together, but I pulled far ahead of everyone, even faster than my mate, who's supposed to be the fastest in the pack. I'm glad that in the werewolf and lycan world, males admire strong females the way females admire powerful males. A bond with a powerful mate makes us stronger still. Needless to say, Julian was extremely proud. The appetizers have come and gone. Now they're serving some kind of roasted fowl, garnished with chopped parsley and drizzled with yellow and red sauces across gleaming china stamped with the royal crest along every rim. I slice into the me
From Pack Slave to Lycan Princess The Oath of the Eighth
Snow crunches under my riding boots. The ground, the trees, and the palace roof all wear a thick blanket of white. The sun already hangs low even though it's barely three in the afternoon. A cold wind rises, and the soft brown fur lining my hood brushes my cheek. My cape is black velvet with a deep red lining that flashes with every step. A bodyguard named Günter leads me away from the palace toward what I assume is a stable. He reminds me of Darius: tough, quiet, and stoic. He's the same guard who took me to see Corbin and Caleb at their quarters this morning. I didn't stay long, because Caleb said they had an errand at the werewolf pack nearby that got attacked. He didn't say what it was, and I didn't get the chance to ask. When I got back, Sebastian had my lunch ready and handed me a note from Julian. The Prince wanted me in the riding habit and waiting for him at the stable. Sebastian had laid everything out in the bedchamber: a fitted black jacket, a crisp white ruffled bl
From Pack Slave to Lycan Princess What the Night Knows
Later, long after the house has gone properly quiet, after the fires have burned down to embers in every hearth and the last of the staff have finally retired for the night, Julian's asleep beside me, worn thin from whatever that meeting demanded of him. He fell asleep almost the instant his head hit the pillow, one arm still thrown protectively over my waist even unconscious, and I lie there a long while trying to match his breathing, trying to let the day's leftover tension drain out of me the same way it's apparently drained out of him. It doesn't work. There's too much restless energy left over, too many half-formed thoughts circling with nowhere to land, the Queen Dowager's strange little comment, the grim set of Julian's jaw at dinner, the word rebels sitting cold and unresolved in the back of my mind. I slip out from under the blankets as quietly as I can manage, careful not to disturb him, and pull on a coat over my sleep clothes. When I step out into the hall
From Pack Slave to Lycan Princess What the Girls Know
Livana isn't at breakfast, which I don't think much of at first. People sleep in, especially people who've had a week like ours, and the sideboard's loaded with enough pastries and smoked meats and soft-boiled eggs in little silver cups that it's easy enough to fill a plate and not notice one missing face right away. But when Selene mentions it over her second cup of tea, there's a small furrow in her brow that makes me actually look up and pay attention. "She's been tired the last few mornings," Selene says, stirring her tea slower than the task requires, watching the spoon go around and around like it's more interesting than it actually is. "Worn out in a way that isn't really like her. You know how she is, not a morning person but will make it at the right time, always has some plan for the day before the rest of us have even plan. I mentioned it to her yesterday and she just laughed it off. Told me not to worry." "Maybe it's just the stress of everything," I offer, though someth
From Pack Slave to Lycan Princess A Good Morning
I wake before him, which almost never happens.For a few minutes I don't move at all, just lie there with my cheek against his chest, matching my breathing to the slow rise and fall of his, listening to the fire pop and settle in the grate across the room. Someone, probably Sebastian or one of the quieter staff who seem to materialize and vanish without ever being seen, must have crept in sometime before dawn to stoke it back to life, because the chill that always creeps into this old stone room overnight has already burned off. Outside, the light is that particular pale blue that only exists in the hour before the sun actually clears the tree line, the kind of light that makes snow look less like weather and more like something enchanted.Julian looks younger like this. Not that he looks old any other time, obviously, he's some centuries-old lycan with a jawline that should be illegal, but there's usually a tension sitting behind his eyes even when he's smiling, something braced, som
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