I didn't choose to trespass on Alpha Ronan Vale's land. But when you're running for your life, the forest decides your path. I thought I knew what predators looked like until he stepped from the shadows. Battle-scarred and broad, with eyes like molten gold and a voice that vibrates through bone. He didn't negotiate. He hunted me through the dark, took me down hard, and claimed me with teeth and blood. His mark lives in my throat now, a connection that won't disappear. He's everything I should fear. Savage, uncompromising, a man who takes without asking. Yet the bond calls to something wild in me, my body singing for him even as my mind recoils. To his pack, I'm fresh meat. Something to be tamed. But I have claws too, and I'll use them. Even when he forces me to become part of his territory. Even when the moon turns full and he swears I’ll come to him willingly. I hate him. I crave him. And the wolf in me suspects I was always meant to be his.
View MoreEli
The forest is too quiet.
No crickets, no owls. Just the sound of my own breath shredding my lungs as I sprint downhill, branches clawing my arms.
I don’t dare shift.
Four legs would be faster, but the scent trail would be clearer, and I can feel them already.
Black shapes moving like shadows on either side. Wolves. Big ones. And they’re not planning on letting me go.
My foot catches on a root, and I skid hard, biting back a curse as my palms rip open on the dirt.
The scent of my blood fills the air. Fuck. I press my hands into the wet earth to mask it, but it’s too late.
A low growl rolls through the trees, deep enough to shake the ground.
I push myself up and run again, ignoring the sting in my knees.
There’s a ridge ahead. If I can make it over, I can cut across the stream to dilute my scent and throw them off.
I’ve done this before. I know how to run.
But these aren’t ordinary wolves.
Their territory markers are everywhere.
Skulls nailed to trees, strips of bloody cloth fluttering like warnings.
I ignored them because I thought I could pass through unnoticed.
All I need is to get out of the southlands. Then I can just disappear.
There’s a snap of twigs to my right. A flash of gold eyes. My stomach drops.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck-”
I veer left, but the ground disappears under me in a sudden dip, and I tumble.
Rocks tear at me as I roll, slamming into something hard enough to knock the air from my chest.
For a second, the world spins, black edges creeping in. Then I hear him.
A voice, low and rough, cutting through the night like a blade.
“You’re mine now.”
I scramble backward on my elbows, but a shadow drops from the trees above.
He hits the ground in a crouch, taller than any man I’ve ever seen, built like he was carved out of night itself.
His coat, no wait, it’s his skin, shines slick with shifting patterns. Black tattoos swirling across muscle as he moves.
And his eyes…wolf-gold, are burning straight through me.
He stands over me, making me feel small. Breakable.
He’s an Alpha.
I don’t need my wolf-sense to know it. My spine bows under the weight of his presence and my own wolf is cowering low in my chest.
“Please,” I rasp, holding up my hands. “I didn’t know this land belongs to anyone.”
“You knew.”
His voice is a growl, deep enough to make my bones vibrate.
He prowls closer, each step unhurried and deliberate.
“You crossed my line and breathed my air. Did you think that would be free? Or that you could outrun me?”
I scramble back, but my back hits a tree.
There’s nowhere left to go. His scent hits me then. Smoke, cedar and iron. And something inside me twists, hot and low, the wolf in me whining despite my terror.
No. No, not this. Not him. Please. My life is shitty enough already.
He leans down, close enough that I can see the sharp tips of his canines, not fully shifted but near.
He smells the blood on my hands and inhales deeply like he’s tasting it.
“You smell like prey,” he murmurs, and his hand snaps around my throat.
I claw at his wrist, heart jack-hammering, but he isn’t squeezing. Not really. Just holding me there, pinned against the tree. His thumb strokes my pulse, slow and possessive.
“You don’t belong anywhere,” he says, tilting his head. “Do you?”
My breath hitches. I don’t answer. He already knows.
A sound rumbles from his chest, part growl, part something else, and before I can speak again he leans in closer, until his mouth is at my neck.
His lips brush skin, and every nerve in my body sparks awake. I feel his teeth graze over the vein.
“You’re mine now,” he whispers again, and then his teeth break skin as his fangs sink into my neck.
Pain and fire explode through me, sharp and overwhelming, but there’s something else beneath it.
A pull. A heat that rushes down my spine and floods my groin, wrong and terrifying and addictive all at once.
My wolf howls inside me, not only out of fear, but out of something far more primal.
I choke on a cry as he licks the blood, sealing the bite with his own saliva.
The world tilts as the bond snaps into place like a shackle.
He steps back, eyes dark and wild, and I feel it thrumming between us, alive and electric. The chain that will make it nearly impossible for me to get away.
“Run again,” he says softly, almost kindly. “And see what happens.”
And then he hauls me up by the arm, dragging me deeper into the trees. Toward the heart of his pack, and whatever waits for me there.
EliBlackthorn doesn’t do pageantry. We do black leather, old scars, and the kind of hospitality that involves counting knives before and after a visit.Silvercrest rolls in like a storybook that lost its mind.Carriages with lacquered sides gleam under the weak winter sun, each wheel rim banded in polished steel. Their guards wear matched mail, blue overcoats embroidered with silver swirls. Even their horses look moisturized. Our wolves don’t even pretend not to stare and I watch with undisguised interest.The first cart lurches to a halt. Two servants hop down and snap a traveling awning out into a pavilion like they’ve rehearsed it a thousand times. Boxes follow. The wood is waxed and stamped with sigils that prickle the air. Old magic hums, nibbling at my skin. Hazel sidles up on my left, bow unstrung but close, expression sharpened to a point.“Careful,” she murmurs, barely moving her mouth. “Some of those hum wrong.”“Some of those hum expensive,” I counter, and she snorts bec
HazelI knew the moment I stepped into the yard it would turn heads.Not because I’m Eli’s shadow, or because Ronan tolerates me, or because I’ve got a bow slung across my back like a second spine. No. it’s because today, I’m not here to train pups or correct sloppy stances.I’m here to step into the ring and join the elite warriors.The frost crunches loud under my boots as I cross to the center. The yard’s noise stutters, then hushes. Older wolves straighten, some narrow their eyes. A couple of the elders on the benches exchange looks sharp enough to cut.I plant my feet on the hard-packed dirt and say it plain as day. “I want in.”Mara’s the first to speak, arms folded, eyes unreadable. “In what?”“In warrior training.” My voice doesn’t crack, though my stomach knots. “Formally.”A ripple goes through the yard. I can hear disbelief, a laugh or two, angry muttering. I know exactly what they’re thinking. Delta. Doesn’t belong here. Quite frankly, they can go fuck themselves.I square
RonanHis shirt is half-open, his grin smug, and he dares to remind me, “It’s tomorrow.”As if I don’t remember every syllable I’ve ever promised him.I haul him into my lap before he can get cleverer. His laugh breaks against my mouth, swallowed down when I kiss him hard enough to bruise. He tries to talk, always, but my palm closes over his throat, thumb pressing just under his jaw, and the sound dies. His eyes flare, hungry.“If you make any loud noises,” I growl against his lips, “I’ll stop.”He nods, frantic, shifting to straddle me, already hard against my thigh. My wolf hums, pleased.He opens for me instinctively, hands catching at my shirt like it’s a ledge. I bite his lower lip until he breathes hard through his nose. When sound threatens, I lift my head and lay the rule down low.His eyes flare. I feel the way his wolf rises to that, sleek and hungry. He nods fast. Motivated is one word for it. Desperate is another. Both please me.I unbutton his shirt in a practiced rhyth
EliThe first time Hazel looks at Jace today, it could be accidental. The second time is suspicious. By the third, it’s clearly a habit she can’t shake.Jace is in his usual uniform. Navy button-up shirt, jeans, knives strapped to his hips, quiet exasperation carved into his face like a threat. He corrects Sorrel’s guard with two fingers and the elegance of a guillotine. Hazel’s gaze, traitor that it is, lingers half a heartbeat too long on the way his shoulder rolls under fabric.“Well then,” I murmur, grinning like a cat who got into an entire vat of cream. “If you stare any harder, Hazel, you’ll bore a hole right through him. Might save the other packs some money on arrowheads.”She doesn’t startle. Hazel doesn’t do prey reactions. She just cuts me a look sharp enough to shave with. “Shut up.”“I’ve hit a nerve,” I say, delighted. Hazel’s ears go rosy. I follow the line of her eyes back to Jace, who is, outrageously, continuing to just be Jace.I know he must have heard us. Thee m
EliI sprawl in the chair next to Ronan’s like a cat basking in the sun. Legs draped over one arm, my scarf slouched rakishly around my throat, the cut of the bandage hidden but implied, his mug of tea in my hand like it’s always been mine. Ronan stands in the doorway for two heartbeats, assessing the room, then me, then the room again as if measuring how much blood it would take to refinish the floor. His jaw goes tight in that way I like, the tendon jumping. My private metronome.“Good morning,” I say, sweet as sugar, and take a sip of his tea. It’s strong and dark, with a hint of honey. Rude to my taste buds and therefore very him. Ronan circles behind me. One palm lands on the high back of the chair near my head, his fingers brushing the tips of my hair. To the room, he’s composed. To me, the bond hums with “sit up straight, menace,” and also “stay exactly as you are, it pleases me.” “Requisitions,” Mara says, crisp. “Wire, resin, arrowheads. And we’re still short on salt.”“We
EliLight sparring with Ronan lasts ten minutes before I refuse to continue. “You’d punch a toddler with more force!” Ronan glowers at me. “I wouldn’t punch a toddler at all.” We bicker for more than an hour before he growls that it may be for the best if I become Jace’s problem for a while.Refraining from telling him that’s exactly what I’ve been saying from the start is a strenuous exercise in willpower.Conversations stutter when I step through the gate with Ronan. Not the old kind of stutter, the kind that came with suspicion and gossip. This is awe, wary and shining. It makes my skin itch. Heads dip. Not to Ronan. To me. Two Deltas touch knuckles to brow and then to ground, that old instinct the council woke when Ronan’s voice rolled through them like thunder.I keep my chin up and my pace steady. You can drown in reverence as easily as in hate.Jace is already in the ring, barking corrections, throwing men twice his size with bored efficiency. He glances over and his eyes do
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