DamonI move like a phantom through the trees, my senses locked onto the faint scent trail I found near the border. It’s fresh, leading deeper into the forest, winding toward something old. Something my instincts are warning me is something very wrong.My lip curls, but I keep following. The girl doesn’t even know she’s being tracked. Sloppy and amateurish. Hard to believe she got away with murder.I’d gone back to where the boy’s body was left, circling the perimeter, looking for any trace of the killer. What I found was her scent. Faint at first, but unmistakable. And now I’ve followed it here, to the ruins of something ancient that reeks of magic.She emerges just as I crouch behind the thick brush, watching. Her expression is tight, her breathing uneven, like she’s been doing something she shouldn’t have. Her eyes are distant and unfocused.She hesitates before taking a step away from the ruins, like something inside is calling to her and she wants to run away.She’s clearly a wit
HildaSomething isn’t right. I feel it before I’m even fully awake, a prickling at the back of my neck, a weight pressing down on my chest.The bond between me and Arlo hums low and steady, but there’s an unease threading through me, a whisper of danger that I can’t ignore. My hand slides beneath the pillow where I keep my knife when I’m sleeping, fingers curling around the hilt.Keeping my eyes shut I take a deep breath. The cabin smells almost the same as usual. Wood smoke, fresh pine, the lingering scent of Arlo on the sheets, the sharp, delicious tang of our fluids perfuming the air, but there’s something else. It’s faint, but it doesn’t belong.Then I hear it. A footstep. Too quiet for most to notice, but I’m not most. I bolt upright just as the door creaks open, and there he is, Damon, daring to come into my fucking home.A slow, cruel smile spreads across his face. “Morning, princess.” My grip tightens around the knife. He looks worse than the last time I saw him. “I’m your Lun
HildaArlo keeps running his hands over me, looking for wounds. I’m bruised, but mostly whole and I know the baby is fine.He never leaves my side, but he’s barely spoken since he stormed in to find me kneeling over Damon’s corpse, covered in blood.He immediately dropped to his knees, cupping my face with hands that trembled, his eyes scanning every inch of me as if he needed proof I was whole. He wrapped me in a blanket and carried me to the communal bath house, ordering everyone out before carefully bathing me, while others cleaned the mess I left behind.Now, back in our cabin, he paces, his muscles wound tight, his jaw clenched so hard I swear I can hear his teeth grinding. The bond between us hums, thick with his emotions. Relief, rage, something darker and desperate that coils beneath the surface, begging to be let out.I move toward him, placing a hand on his chest. “Arlo, I’m fine-” He spins so fast I barely have time to react before his hands are on me, rough and needy.“You
HildaI’m not entirely surprised when Cerelia arrives. She knocks once before opening the door and walking in, her sharp blue eyes scanning me where I sit curled up in an armchair by the fire, nursing a cup of tea.“You’re really not hurt?” she asks, her relief evident. “I’m fine,” I say carefully, not sure how she feels about me murdering her brother.She looks tired. Dark smudges linger beneath her eyes, and her posture is stiff, like she’s holding something back. I set my mug down and nod toward the chair across from me. “Please, sit.”She does, but she doesn’t relax. Instead, she studies me like she’s trying to solve a puzzle. “How are you?” she finally asks. I huff out a laugh, “I’ve been better. How about you?”She pauses before responding, “I don’t know what to say to you.” I raise a brow, “That’s a first. How about you just tell me what you’re really feeling?”“I keep running through different possibilities in my head. Should I apologize? Should I thank you? Should I just pret
HildaTara’s cottage is on the outskirts of the pack lands, a modest, weathered place half-swallowed by the creeping forest. My boots crunch over the frost-stiffened ground as I approach, the sense of unease that’s been gnawing at me sharpening with every step.I knock, then push the door open when I hear a quiet, “Come in.” Tara is sitting at her kitchen table, her hands curled around a steaming mug that smells of peppermint and ginger. She must have a headache.She looks up as I enter, her grey eyes guttering with something. Surprise? Apprehension? It’s gone too fast to tell. I close the door behind me, grateful to be out of the cold. “Tara, how are you?”“Hilda,” she replies, her voice careful, controlled, “This is an unexpected surprise. You look well.” I smile, unable to return the compliment.I take a seat across from her, studying her. She looks thinner than I remember, her sharp features more pronounced, eyes blazing far too brightly, and there’s a tightness around her mouth t
NixieI find Hilda sitting on the porch of her cabin, a thick blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The bruises from her fight with Damon are already fading, but the exhaustion lingers in the set of her shoulders. Even so, she looks up as I approach, her lips curving into a welcoming smile."Daily visits now, you’re checking up on me," she accuses before I can even speak. I snort, stepping onto the porch. "I like to think of it as an unannounced wellness inspection. Making sure my Luna stays out of trouble."Hilda chuckles, scooting over to make room for me. "I’m fine, just bored out of my skull. Arlo’s being very overbearing and forcing me to rest."I sit beside her, stretching my legs out. "You almost died. Humor him." She shrugs nonchalantly, "I’ve almost died plenty of times before. It’s all part of being a warrior.”"So is knowing when to take it easy," I counter. Hilda looks at me shrewdly, “So you’d be fine staying in bed for a week after one little fight?” I roll my eyes, “I’m
HildaThe first thing I feel is the cold. A sharp, creeping chill that seeps into my bones, settling beneath my skin like frost in the dead of winter. It’s wrong. Unnatural. The kind of cold that isn’t caused by wind or lack of warmth, but by something evil spearing you with its gaze.I force my eyes open, but the darkness is suffocating, thick and impenetrable. The kind of black that exists only in nightmares, where light doesn’t dare to reach. My pulse quickens as I shift under the blankets, reaching instinctively for Arlo, but his side of the bed is empty, the sheets still warm.The sensation of being watched tightens around me like a noose. I hold my breath, listening, my fingers curling around the dagger I still keep stashed under my pillow. I know better than to ignore instincts like these.The room is silent. There’s no wind rattling the windows, no rustling of leaves outside, not even the distant howls of patrolling wolves. Just an absolute, unnatural stillness. And then, the
TaraThe first thing I notice is the cold. It seeps into my bones and curls around my limbs. My breath comes in quick, sharp gasps, fogging in the frigid air. I don’t remember leaving my room. But I’m sure as hell not there anymore.The stone beneath my bare feet is smooth, from years of being walked across. The air is thick, charged, humming with something ancient and evil.The temple looms around me, its high, crumbling walls stretching into darkness, the massive stone pillars casting jagged shadows in the moonlight streaming through broken shards of glass.I swallow hard, my pulse pounding against my ribs. I have to get out of here right away. But once again my body isn’t my own. My hands twitch, fingers curling, tracing patterns in the dust that I don’t recognize, yet my mind echoes with familiarity.My heart stutters when I hear the voice commanding, Deeper. It’s silk and shadow, curling into the hollow spaces of my mind. Morgana. Her presence is a phantom touch at the edges of m
CereliaIt’s still very early. Soren’s arm is slung lazily over my waist, his breath warm against the back of my neck, and for once everything is quiet. There are no spells humming through my bones. No humans to manipulate. No wolves to protect. Just warmth and peace in the arms of the man I love.And the deep, delicious ache in my muscles from a night spent in his arms. I close my eyes and sigh contentedly.And that’s when the knock comes. Three quick raps on the door. Then silence. Another two knocks, this time faster.Followed by, “I know you’re awake! I can hear you breathing!” Soren groans into my shoulder. “She’s back.”“I’m not going away,” Scarlett adds through the door. “And I’m very hungry.” I bite back a laugh and start to roll over, but Soren tightens his arm around me with a huff.“She’s our godchild, I have to let her in,” I tell him. “It’s too early,” he groans. I pat his hand before wriggling out of bed and pull on one of his shirts, which falls all the way to my knees
ArloI can’t keep my hands off her and I have no intention of trying to.The second we shut the door behind us, I pin her against it, mouth crashing down on hers with what feels like weeks of pent-up want. Hell, years of it. A lifetime of need. Even though I spent all night worshipping her just last night. I will never get enough of her.Hilda kisses me back like she’s starving.Her fingers dive into my hair, tugging just the way she knows drives me mad, and I groan, grinding against her, feeling her swell press into me. Our child, safe and warm in her body while I press her against the wall like a man possessed.“Arlo,” she pants, pulling back enough to look at me, her lips swollen, her cheeks flushed. “We should get to the bed-”“I’ll carry you,” I growl, already sweeping her into my arms before she finishes the sentence. She squeals and laughs, smacking my shoulder. “Caveman.”“My caveman charm worked on you, didn’t it?” I ask cockily. “It worked once,” she says with a giggle.I dr
HildaThe clearing is glowing with golden lantern light, strung from tree to tree like stars caught in the branches. Music floats through the air, lively and cheerful, and the scent of roasted meat, baked bread, and spiced cider wraps around everything like a warm embrace.Laughter, chatter, music, love, and everyone I care about safe and sound. It’s perfect.Scarlett darts past me, her curls bouncing, a sticky bun in each hand and powdered sugar smudged across her cheek. She’s already danced with half the warriors here, been given three new hair ribbons, and convinced Nixie to teach her the “grown-up” steps to a waltz. The child is utterly spoiled and utterly adored. Just as she should be.My gaze drifts across the party, a small smile tugging at my lips.Nixie and Percy are twirling in the open space near the fire, laughing as Percy dips her dramatically, nearly dropping her before catching her again. She swats him playfully and he leans in to kiss her shoulder. They’re so in love i
TaraThe tea is barely warm, but I don’t care. It’s quiet in the cottage, and Ash is here, lounging on the couch like he owns the place, one long leg stretched out, the other bent so his arm can rest on his knee. He’s watching me sip my tea like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.And he keeps leaning closer. I give him a mock glare. “Ash.” He brushes his nose against my cheek, kissing the corner of my mouth. “What?”“You know what.” His grin is wicked. “I’m just admiring you,” he protests, his innocent tone completely at odds with the glint in his eyes. “I swear, if you kiss me again, we won’t make it back to the party-”He kisses me again and I lose myself in him for several minutes before gathering the strength of will to pull back.“Ash,” I laugh, pushing lightly at his shoulder. “I’m serious! Hilda will drag us out of here naked if she has to. And I will never recover.”“Neither will she,” he mutters. “Which is why I’m being very responsible right now.” I snort. “Your d
AshAfter two days in Tara’s bed, I honestly wasn’t sure my legs still worked. They do, but just barely.We’ve both managed to stumble out into the daylight today, blinking and dazed like creatures dragged from some romantic fairy tale.Sore, hungry, and maybe a little too pleased with ourselves. Tara’s gone off to help Cerelia with decorations, and I’ve been assigned the incredibly noble task of carrying boxes of cider to the main clearing where Hilda’s preparing to throw what I’ve been assured will be a “respectably rowdy” victory celebration.The werewolves are happy. Relaxed. They laugh louder. Touch more freely – which is saying a lot. The tension that used to hum just beneath the surface is gone for now.They survived. And they’re still free to live as they choose. The human world blissfully unaware of their existence.I’m halfway through hauling the second crate of bottles when I hear the unmistakable patter of quick little footsteps, followed by an even quicker voice.“There y
TaraI’ve never felt anything like this.Not just the physical sensation of Ash’s hands and mouth on my skin, though even that alone would be enough to steal my breath. It’s the bond. The raw, unfiltered tether between us. Every touch he gives me, I feel twice. My own response and his.His hunger. His awe. His aching, consuming need. It rushes through me like fire laced with starlight.Every pass of his lips over my skin, every brush of his fingers, echoes back into my body in waves, dizzying and electric. I arch beneath him with a soft cry, overwhelmed, and he moans into my throat like he feels it too.Because he does. I glance up at him, his hair falling loose around his face, his pupils blown wide with desire, and my heart stutters.“Ash,” I whisper. “It’s too much. I feel everything you do-”“I know,” he murmurs, voice wrecked. “Gods, Tara, I know. It’s driving me mad and I don’t want it to stop.”He kisses down my stomach, his hands holding my thighs open like I’m something sacre
AshFor a long, breathless moment, I can’t move. Tara’s lips are soft and warm against mine, trembling just slightly, like she’s not sure I’ll kiss her back.But I do. Gods, I do. My arms fold around her instinctively, drawing her closer, and everything else, everything dark and twisted and sharp, fades into nothing.The world narrows to her body pressed against mine. Her mouth, open and trusting. Her hands fisting gently into the front of my shirt.I kiss her slowly, reverently, afraid to shatter the fragile magic threading between us. Her lips taste like honey and forever. Like everything I’ve ever wanted and never dared to ask for. Every time I move to pull away, she tilts her face to follow me, like she can’t bear to stop.And gods, I think I might break.When we finally come up for air, we’re both breathless. She gazes up at me, cheeks flushed, eyes luminous in the low lamplight. “Close the door,” she whispers. “Come to bed with me.”My heart does something strange in my chest. L
TaraCerelia can barely keep her eyes open as Ash and I help her up the path toward her and Soren’s cabin.Her steps are slow and dragging, her head lolling against Ash’s shoulder more than once, but she’s still stubbornly mumbling that she’s fine even as she stumbles.I tighten my grip under her arm. “You're not fine. You're spent. Let us carry you.” Cerelia slow blinks at me, before shaking her head. “I’ll walk.” Clearly Hilda’s rubbed off on her.Ash says nothing, but his jaw is tight, and I can feel the way he braces her against him more firmly, almost carrying her by the time we reach the porch, but leaving her the illusion that her feet are nearly touching the ground.Soren comes sprinting over, “There you are! I ran over to look for you once we were sure the humans left our land, but you were gone!” He’s already scooping her up in his arms like she weighs nothing at all. She doesn’t complain this time, sighing happily as she turns her head into his chest.“You’re amazing,” he m
HildaCerelia is swaying on her feet, pale and drained, but when I step closer, she straightens with visible effort. I hesitate for a heartbeat. She’s already given more than enough today. She shouldn’t have to give more.I can’t ask her to restore Malcolm’s memories just so I can have my revenge. “Thank you for everything. You should go and rest,” I tell her.She looks back at me, exhausted but clear-eyed, a half-smile on her lips as she informs me, “He remembers everything.”I exhale slowly, tension bleeding out of me, hugging her for giving me this gift. I need him to remember. I need him to know why he’s being punished.I double check Malcolm for weapons. I’m not taking any chances with him. Even armed, I know I can take him, but I don’t want any interruptions or unnecessary struggles. He’s taken up too much of our time already.I grab a single leash from the pile the warriors dropped earlier and snap it to the heavy collar locked around his throat. “I’ll see you back at the pack