FAZER 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
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
Katia’s eyes softened in the way that makes men want to break their own chairs. “Tristan,” she said, and my name in her voice reminded me who I had been before grief put its hands on my throat. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep your house. We’ll find her, keep her safe, even from you. Both can happen even wh
“Fine. Tristan the Duck King,” he said, voice dry and final. “You may occupy this room until further notice. But know this, any uprising of quacks will be met with immediate retaliation.”The room erupted, not in chaos, but in laughter, genuine, relieved laughter. Even Bob snorted, trying to keep a
The room emptied but for the central handful: Selene, Lorn, Katia, Nathan, Mark, and Talon. My inner circle by blood or by duty, and the goddess and her mate, who had decided to treat me like a child in need of a corner.“Comfortable?” Selene asked with such dry sympathy that I nearly slipped on it.







