LOGINEvelyn's hand hovered over the doorknob as her pulse thundered in her ears. Rain hammered against the cabin roof, the storm raging just beyond the threshold-but somehow, the storm inside her chest was louder.
He stood there barefoot, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, the remains of a torn shirt clinging to him. Muscles tense. Jaw clenched. Gold eyes glowing with something wild—and something frighteningly human.
“You know my name,” she whispered.
“Yes.”
His voice was gravelly, low, and resonant. “Now shut the door.”
Another howl echoed through the woods, closer this time. A cluster of answering howls followed, sharp and chilling. The sound raised the tiny hairs on the back of her neck.
Evelyn slammed the door shut and backed away. “What are they?”
"Rogues," he said. "Wild. Untethered. They smelled blood.
“Your blood?
"Any blood." His gaze flicked to her tattered wedding dress. "They caught your scent, too."
Her stomach twisted. “So, they’re looking for me.”
“No.” He took a slow, deliberate step toward her. “They’re hunting you.”
Evelyn swallowed hard, clutching her damp skirt. “And you’re… what? The nice wolf?”
His lip twitched - almost a smile, but too grim to be one. “Nice isn’t the word anyone uses for me.”
"Well, you didn't eat me," she muttered. "That's a good start."
He expelled a sharp breath, perhaps amused, perhaps frustrated. Hard to tell.
Outside, the storm howled again.
Inside the cabin, he staggered.
Evelyn gasped. "You're hurt."
He glanced at his shoulder as if remembering the wound for the first time. Blood trickled down his arm. The torn skin was deep, angry. “It will heal.”
She stepped closer despite every instinct screaming at her not to. “You're bleeding everywhere. Just—sit down.”
He raised a brow. “Why?”
"Because I don't know who you are, or what you are, and I'm wearing a soaking wedding dress in the middle of nowhere and everything hurts-and helping you is the only thing in this moment that doesn't feel completely out of control."
He stared at her for several seconds. Something softened in his expression-not much, but enough. He wanted to resist her touch, but something stopped him. Her unique scent was all around the cabin, and his wolf was howling his head off for release.
He sat.
Evelyn walked quickly to the little kitchen area and discovered an old tin box full of bandages and antiseptic. When she returned, he was watching her with unnerving intensity. He noticed the way she walked and the still scared look on her face.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she muttered.
“How am I looking at you?
"Like you're deciding if you made a mistake saving me."
He grinned, tilting his head. “I didn’t.” That smile transformed his face, and she couldn’t help but stare at him.
“See something you like”, he smirked at her.
Her cheeks warmed-annoyingly. “Just hold still.”
She knelt beside him and gently cleaned the wound. His breath hitched once when the antiseptic stung, but otherwise he didn't flinch. His skin radiated heat, far more than human. She tried not to stare. Tried not to imagine how strong he must be in either form.
Focus, Evelyn.
“You heal fast?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“How fast?”
His eyes met hers directly, their expression unreadable. "Faster with help."
"What kind of help?"
His eyes dropped to her hand on his shoulder.
Her breath caught. “Oh,” she blushed.
“Yes,” he murmured. He imagined taking her right there and then.
The air between them thickened, humming with something she didn't understand. She pulled her hand back, heart pounding. "Well, tough. You're getting bandages, not magic healing touch."
A faint smirk arced his lips. “As you wish.”
She wrapped the bandage tightly. Her fingers brushed his skin again—this time accidentally—and warmth surged up her arm. Not normal warmth. Something deeper. Sharper.
She pulled away fast. “There. Done. Good enough?”
“For now.”
He rose, towering over her again. “They'll come back tonight, “he said shoving the thoughts of tangling with her off his mind.
“The rogues?”
“Yes.”
“Why? You chased them off.”
“You misunderstand.
His voice dropped into something darker.
"They weren't here for me."
Evelyn blinked. "But I'm nobody. I don't even live here."
"You crossed into their territory. Alone. Injured. Weak. On the run." He stopped. "Wearing white. They see that as blood. Or prey.
She wrapped her arms around herself. “So, what do I do? Stay here forever? Hope they get bored?”
He stepped closer, close enough that she could feel heat radiating from him, close enough that the gold of his eyes trapped every thought inside her head.
“I'll protect you,” he said.
The words were simple, firm, and absolute.
But the intensity behind them hit her like a physical force.
She swallowed hard. "Why? You don't even know me."
A beat of silence.
"Yes," he said quietly. "I do.
Her heartbeat faltered. “How?”
Another howl ripped through the forest, shattering the moment.
He grasped her wrist-not roughly, but with an undeniable strength-and pulled her from the door. “They’re close.”
She stumbled after him. "Wait, what do you mean you know me? You've never seen me before."
“I have,” he said, moving her into the back room. “Not like this. But I’ve sensed you for months.”
“Sensed me?”
He stopped and turned. The look he gave her rooted her to the floor.
“You’re my tether.”
She blinked. “Your—your what?”
Before he could answer, something slammed into the cabin wall hard enough to shake the floorboards.
Evelyn screamed.
Instantly, he stepped in front of her, a low, frightening growl ripping from his throat—human form or not, it was unmistakably wolf.
The wall cracked.
A claw tore through the wood.
He snarled, "Get behind me."
Evelyn did.
The cabin wall splintered.
A massive rogue wolf burst through, eyes wild, teeth bared, hunger dripping from every inch of it—
And the man in front of her shifted mid-air, bones snapping, body contorting, silver-black fur exploding across his skin—
With a roar, the Alpha wolf shook the room. And Evelyn realized, panting and quivering: She was not trapped with monsters.
She was standing behind the most powerful one.
The Space BetweenKael did not sleep.He stood on the battlements until the moon climbed, waned, and dipped behind cloud, his wolf restless beneath his skin—not raging, not threatening to break free, but pacing. Watching. Calculating.That was worse.Because rage he could fight.This—this quiet, creeping awareness that something delicate was shifting inside the pack, inside Selene, inside him—had no claws to meet.Below, Nightfang lived.Torches guttered and were replaced. Guards rotated. Somewhere in the lower courtyards, laughter rose and fell as wolves off duty shared drink and stories. Life continued, stubborn and ordinary, even as something fundamental adjusted its footing beneath it.Kael pressed his palms to the cold stone.He had faced gods. He had faced prophecy. He had faced the Devourer and not blinked.But this?This was choice without violence. Presence without possession. Love without certainty.And it was unraveling him.Selene lay awake too.Her chamber felt different
Adrian did not leave the Hall in anger.That was what made it devastating.There was no slammed door, no shouted accusation, no final look thrown like a blade over his shoulder. When the Oracle dismissed the Council and the torches dimmed back to their resting blue, Adrian simply inclined his head—once—to the elders, once to Selene, and once to Kael.A gesture of respect.A gesture that said I am not finished, but I am not your enemy either.Then he turned and walked out.The sound of his footsteps faded long before anyone breathed.The Nightfang Hall emptied slowly after that, as if the pack itself were afraid that motion might shatter something fragile and unseen. Wolves avoided Selene’s gaze—not in judgment, but in discomfort. This was not a wound they could bite or bleed out. It was a knot pulled too tight around fate.Kael remained where he was long after the last torchbearer left.Selene stood beside him, close enough to feel the heat of him, far enough that her sleeve did not b
The Hall of Nightfang had been built for war.Stone older than memory rose in a crescent, carved with the sigils of every Alpha who had bled for the territory. The ceiling arched high enough that voices carried and multiplied, turning even a whisper into something that felt judged. Torches burned with blue flame—witchlight—fed by the pack’s ley lines, reacting to truth, to power, to intent.Tonight, they burned brighter than usual.Kael stood at the center of the floor, shoulders squared, hands loose at his sides in a posture that every wolf in the room recognized as controlled violence. Not unleashed. Not restrained. Balanced. Barely.Selene stood to his right, dressed in black and silver, the mark at her throat faintly visible beneath the collar of her cloak. She had chosen not to hide it fully. A message. A risk.Behind them, the pack gathered in tiers—betas, elders, sentinels—silent, watchful. The air vibrated with contained instincts. This was not a trial of teeth and claws.This
The summons arrived before dawn.Not by horn. Not by runner.By seal.Selene found it waiting on the small table beside her bed when she woke—parchment thick as hide, the Nightfang crest pressed deep into crimson wax. For a moment she simply stared at it, heart thudding, already knowing.The law had teeth.And it had bitten.The twin stirred lazily inside her, amused rather than alarmed.So it begins, she murmured. How quaint. Wolves pretending rules can hold gods.Selene ignored her and reached for the seal. Her fingers hesitated—then broke it cleanly.By order of the Nightfang Elders,Selene of the Silver Vein is hereby summoned to a Council Review,to assess fitness for Luna Ascension under Clause Thirteen.No accusation. No defense. Just procedure.Selene exhaled slowly, folding the parchment with deliberate calm.So this was Ariane’s escalation.Not a confrontation. Not a theft.A structure.A cage built of tradition and “concern,” where Selene could either contort herself into a
Kael chose the wrong kind of courage.He chose the kind that looked decisive from the outside and reckless from within—the kind born of guilt and urgency rather than clarity. He told himself it was necessary. He told himself the pack needed certainty, and Selene needed to see it, needed to feel it publicly, where doubt could not hide in corners.He did not ask her first.That would be the mistake that followed him for the rest of the night.The summons went out at dusk: a full gathering in the Great Hall. Not a war council—those were closed, heavy with strategy and blood—but a formal assembly, the kind that carried tradition in its bones. Elders, betas, wardens, neighboring emissaries still lingering from the last conclave. Torches were lit in iron brackets; banners of Nightfang were unfurled.When Selene felt it through the bond—Kael’s intent, sharp and burning—her stomach sank.He’s going to do something, the twin murmured with a hum of anticipation. Good. If he claims you before al
The chamber feels impossibly small, though the stone walls stretch high above them. Lyra can still feel the lingering heat of their closeness, the lingering pulse of the bond that threads them together—alive, hungry, impossible. Even after the fire of their stolen, stolen intimacy, Rylan has not left her side. Every movement he makes mirrors hers, every breath synchronizes, every heartbeat echoes across the invisible tether that binds them.But the world will not pause. The Veil hums low, impatient, as if warning them the reprieve is temporary. And beyond the chamber, footsteps echo, deliberate, dangerous.Kade.Lyra’s chest tightens. She can sense him more than see him—a predator, lurking at the edge of firelight, eyes glinting with jealousy so sharp it could cut stone. He doesn’t just want her; he wants the power that courses through her veins. And perhaps, he wants to claim Rylan’s devotion, too.Rylan notices before she can speak. His jaw tightens, gold flaring dangerously bright.







