LOGINDemon pretends he doesn’t notice the moment shift. This is a lie. He notices everything. He just chooses when to acknowledge it based on how entertaining the fallout might be. Right now, he’s leaning against a tree like a decorative menace, arms crossed, expression bored in the theatrical way that
The mate bond hits like a migraine wrapped in arrogance. I’m halfway through chewing a piece of dried fruit, of questionable origin, courtesy of Demon, when the pressure blooms behind my eyes, sharp and familiar and utterly unwelcome. You will listen to me. I choke, coughing as Raph immediately s
The forest goes quiet in a way that has nothing to do with peace. It’s the kind of quiet that presses against your ears, that makes even breathing feel loud. The birds don’t scatter, they vanish. The wind doesn’t stop; it waits. The land itself draws a line and holds it. That’s when I know he’s he
My fingers curl at my sides. “Who told you?” “No one,” he replies. “I followed the noise.” Nathan blinks. “The noise.” “Yes. Relics don’t like being bored. Especially not ones with opinions.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “That bident is not meant to be used. Especially by the one seeking it no
Nathan argues like a man who believes logic is a shield. I love him for it. I also know better. We’re halfway down the hall when he finally stops pretending this conversation is casual and turns fully toward me, boots planting with that familiar Alpha finality, like the ground itself has agreed to
Not just because she lacks patience but because waiting implies restraint. And restraint, when you already know the truth, feels suspiciously like lying. She stands at the edge of the terrace, moonlight pooling at her feet, hands clasped behind her back like she’s holding herself still by force. Th
I move quietly—well, I think I’m quiet. But compared to Pearl, I might as well be stomping through the forest like a drunken ogre wearing pots and pans. She glides ahead of me, barely bending a blade of grass, as though the forest parts for her. Maybe it does. With her golden hair and soft footfalls
Silence. Then something clicks in my mind. A realization I should have pieced together sooner. “Wait,” I say slowly. “Your mate… is the Wolf King?” Tears slip from her eyes again, and she nods. “Yes. The Wolf King is my mate. But he is not my king. And he never will be.” Her voice shifts—bitter
The iron bridge loomed ahead like the skeleton of something ancient and forgotten; its rusted ribs stretching across a gorge where a thin river whispered far below. The metal moaned as the wind crossed it, an old, uneasy sound that made the hairs on my neck rise. I’ve heard spirits cry quieter than
For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The wind whistled. My breath came ragged and fast.Then Gaia said, almost too casually, “You have blood on your face.”“Pretty sure that’s not mine,” I said, wiping at it and smearing it worse. “Better?”“You look like a toddler who lost a fight with a jam jar







