LOGINI smirked, sensing an opportunity to turn the tables. “Speaking of telling everything, Kiyan,” I said, my tone light but pointed, “how exactly did you notice she was pretty? I thought you only had eyes for Sera.”
Kiyan froze.
I turned my gaze on Seraphine, voice low and teasing. “Are you really going to let him go around staring at other women? I suppose that’s not what loyal mates do”
Seraphine’s expression darkened instantly. “Kiyan? How did you know she’s pretty?”
He groaned. “Oh for—Aklan, you’re the devil.”
Their argument started in seconds... sharp, biting, entirely predictable. I leaned back, crossing my arms, a satisfied smile tugging at my lips as they started bickering. Kiyan tried to backpedal, stammering about how he was just observing, while Seraphine poked his chest, her voice rose by the second. It was almost too easy to shut him up.
Then I heard her voice.
“What girl?”
It was soft, lilting, but carried the kind of danger only a certain kind of woman could wield.
Valora Gravesend.
I didn’t need to look to know it was her. The room seemed to shift when she walked in like gravity remembered itself but I turned anyway, catching sight of her as she sauntered toward us. Her deep purple corset dress hugged her frame, short in the front to show off her thighs, with a long, dramatic tail trailing behind her. A chain of dark amethysts glinted around her throat. She was a vision, as always, but I wasn’t in the mood for her theatrics today.
She slid into the chair beside me, her dark eyes glinting with that possessive edge she liked to play up, even though she knew exactly what our deal was.
“So, who do I have to kill?” she asked, her voice light but laced with a threat that wasn’t entirely a joke.
I scoffed, leaning back in my chair. “Calm down, Val. It’s nothing.”
Kiyan, ever the instigator, flashed her a sweet smile. “No dark magic on school grounds, Valora. You know the rules.”
She tilted her head, her lips curving into a dangerous smile as she looked at me. “Only if the girls keep their hands to themselves.”
Seraphine rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath that I didn’t catch but was probably scathing. The bad blood between her and Valora was no secret, and neither Kiyan nor I ever bothered to wade into that mess.
The murky waters between a powerful Warlock and a half fae, half Wyseath princess? Definitely not Lycan territory. Even Valora, a powerful warlock that she was, knew better than to mess with a water wolf, the entire realm of shifters knew damn well the Wyseath were not to be trifled with, worse when you mix fae into that and Seraphine, sweet as she was, was just as dangerous and powerful, if not more than Valora.
Valora ignored Seraphine, her gaze fixed on me. “Something’s got you puzzled,” she said, her voice softer now, almost concerned. “What is it?”
I shook my head, forcing a casual shrug. “Just stressed.”
“Do you have classes in the next hour?” She asked expectantly.
“No I don’t, why?” I glanced at my wristwatch
She studied me for a moment, then leaned closer, her hand brushing my arm knowingly. “I know just the thing to take the edge off.”
Kiyan groaned loudly. “Gods, please don’t.”
Seraphine made a disgusted sound, burying her face in Kiyan’s shoulder. “You two need to get a room.”
Valora smirked, standing and grabbing my wrist as she did. “We’re going to do exactly that.”
As she pulled me to my feet, Kiyan called after us, “Use condoms please! No warlock-lycan hybrids, please. The last thing this academy needs is a baby with fangs and telekinesis.”
A low laugh escaped me despite myself.
Valora’s nails traced lightly along my arm as she led me toward the doors, her perfume lingering like a spell. I followed, outwardly calm, inwardly detached. She was beautiful, deadly, everything a man should want, should fear—and yet, I felt nothing for her beyond the dull familiarity of comfort and power, she knew it too. I had never lied to her and our arrangement had always been clear.
Casual sex, great company, solid friendship. No romantic feelings, no wanting more because that? I could not give.
I didn’t do love, and I was not interested in it. All I needed was a strong, powerful mate who would solidify my claim as heir to the throne, and Valora understood that. Most of the time.
Still, even as she pulled me through the door, her laughter spilling through the corridor, that other face flickered in my mind.
Those hazel eyes.
That impossible intensity.
And the memory of a battlefield long gone cold, where a boy I once called friend lay dying beneath my hands.
Rivan.
My jaw tightened.
No. It couldn’t be.
I forced the thought away, convincing myself I was imagining the resemblance. Just another student. Just another pretty face with a temper.
I was halfway through explaining a flanking maneuver to Dava when everything in my vision narrowed to two approaching figures.The courtyard had been loud a second ago, steel clashing in the training rings, students shouting over one another, Kiyan barking orders and the son of the Narthan minister of foreign affairs, Dava teaching the new drills he had learnt from his time down south during his time there as an exchange student and spy. Kiyan, Dava, and I stood in the shade of the old oak near the training fields, maps spread across a stone bench, debating flanking maneuvers for the upcoming inter-realm exhibition. Dava was sketching formations in the dirt with a stick, Kiyan arguing about supply lines, and I was nodding along like my mind wasn’t a warzone.But the moment I saw them, the noise dulled, like the world had decided to step back and let something important happen.Two girls were walking toward us.One of them looked terrified, her shoulders tight, hands fisted at her sid
I ran until my lungs burned and my legs shook, until the hallways blurred into a maze of stone and shadow.I didn’t know where I was going, I just needed distance from the lecture hall, from the commander’s shocked face, from the snickers that had followed me out the door.My pulse thrashed in my ears, drowning out everything but the compulsion to get away from the memory of a sharp-mouthed asshole with silver-grey eyes who had absolutely no business affecting me the way he did.My boots skidded slightly against the polished floor as I made a sharp turn, ignoring the sting of the cool air on my cheeks. I didn’t stop until I reached the right wing—too far, too quiet, and rumored to be cursed enough that most students avoided it unless they needed a place to nap or cry or hide. Or, apparently, have a complete breakdown.The right-wing bathrooms were infamous: two years ago someone had been maimed in here, a brutal attack no one could ever fully explain.The lights were dim, the mirrors
If there was a prize for pretending to pay attention, I’d have won it by now—gold medal, trophy, plaque, maybe even my name engraved on Norsen’s wall of fame. But the universe—or rather, the moon goddess—had other plans, because absolutely nothing the commander was saying about war brokering and territorial accords was sticking to my brain.Not one word.Not even a letter.I was supposed to be learning how to broker peace between warring realms.Instead I was learning how many seconds I could survive before my body betrayed me again.The lecture hall was packed, rows of students hunched over notebooks, the commander at the front droning on about territorial treaties and blood-oath clauses.His voice was a dull hum, like bees trapped behind glass.All I could focus on was the persistent, traitorous buzz happening between my legs, the kind that made my thighs twitch under the desk. I shifted for the eighth time in ten minutes, silently praying my chair wasn’t noticing how much I hated
I parked the car just outside the border, legend had it that dark forces lingered in the old kingdom, a place that vanished without a trace and I wasn’t about to become dinner for whatever demon was lurking out there.We found the gates of the old beastiary after an hour’s trek, a shimmering tear in the air, like heat rising off black stone. Everything felt dark and hauntingKiyan hesitated at the gates. “Last chance to turn back. You don’t want to die without knowing what sex during rut feels like.”I stepped through without a word.The darkness of the place swallowed us whole. My heart beat traveled a mile, a minute, my fingers trembled and I struggle to slow my breathing, creating the illusion of calmness.Shadows were everywhere—twisting trees with leaves like ink, the skies were perpetually twilight, the air was thick with the scent of damp earth and forgotten magic. The ground squelched under our boots, and whispers rode the wind, half-heard voices that made my skin crawl.Sius
The hallway was a ghost town at this hour—midnight had come and gone, and the academy slept under a blanket of silence broken only by the distant hoot of an owl. I leaned against the wall, bag slung over one shoulder, filled with essentials: dagger, cloak, a few potions from the black market, and the scroll we’d stolen. My blood hummed with adrenaline, and rut, every shadow feeling like it hid eyes watching me.Kiyan arrived exactly on time, because of course he did. He always moved like someone who expected to be graded for punctuality. Bag packed, expression set in that grim determination I’d seen during battles we weren’t supposed to survive.“This better be worth missing Seraphine’s warmth,” he muttered, handing me one of the flashlights we’d grabbed from storage.“It is,” I said, clicking mine on. The beam cut through the dark. “The Realm of Shadows holds the origins of the Mark. We will go to the halls of dread just outside of Norsen at the banks of the shadow river. The old war
Silent for four years. Silent since Rivan died. Silent through every night I wished I weren’t alive. Silent through the guilt, the nightmares, the loneliness.Until now.And what does he choose to say, after four years of silence?We need to mate.His voice cut through my skull again, rough and impatient:We need her.I pressed my palms over my eyes. Of all times you finally speak, this is the one you choose? Not when I begged for strength? Not when everything was falling apart? Now? Now, when I can barely think straight?We cannot reject her. She is ours.Mate. Now. Claim her. Mark her. Fill her.The words hit like a punch. My wolf—my silent, grieving wolf was back, and all he wanted was the one thing I couldn’t give him.Shut up, I snarled internally. Of all the times to wake up, you choose now?She’s ours. Take her. Knot her. Breed her.Safe to say the rut made him just as insane as I was.Shut up, I snarled back internally, the frustration boiling beneath my ribs. You stayed sile







