Arlo The scent is faint but unmistakable. Tara was here. Hilda and I found no new clues this morning, but my nose has led me back here again tonight.I crouch low to the ground, inhaling deeply, my wolf raging beneath my skin. The remnants of her scent cling to the ancient temple ruins, barely perceptible, nearly washed away by the damp earth and overgrowth.She didn’t linger here for long, but she was here recently. Recently enough that my instincts scream at me to keep searching.Clenching my fists, I push myself upright, exhaling slowly through my nose. I can’t afford to lose control. I need to keep my wits about me in spite of the fact that every step I take feels like I'm chasing ghosts, and the weight pressing down on my chest is threatening to crack me open from the inside.She’s getting away. And I can’t let that happen. Moonlight spills through the broken arches of the temple, casting jagged shadows along the cracked stone. I hate this place.The magic that lingers here is t
PercyThe weight of responsibility settles heavily on my shoulders as I watch the sun begin to rise over the pack grounds. Golden light stretches across the land, but it does little to push away the tension clinging to the air.Arlo is gone, tracking Tara, and until he returns, it’s on me to ensure the pack remains protected and nothing gets within sniffing distance of our Luna.Hilda stands a few feet away, arms wrapped around herself, staring at the tree line as though she can will Arlo back through sheer determination.She looks exhausted. Dark circles mar the delicate skin beneath her eyes, and she’s favoring her right side slightly. I make a mental note to make sure she rests soon, even though I know she’ll fight me on it.The responsibility I feel isn’t just for the pack. It’s for her, too. For my Luna. For my friend. My heavily pregnant and stubborn as hell friend.A presence shifts beside me, and I know before turning that it’s Nixie. The crisp smell of morning dew clings to h
MorganaThe night air is thick with fear, and I drink it in like the finest wine. The chaos I’ve sown wraps around me, intoxicating, exhilarating. They run in circles, desperate to find Tara, too blind to see that she was never truly missing. Not in the way they think.I stretch my stolen limbs, rolling my shoulders, feeling the resistance of this weakening shell. Tara fought me harder yesterday than she ever has before, clawing at the edges of my control like a wild animal.It cost me. I had to dig deep, unravelling her from within, silencing her screams until they were nothing more than whispers lost in the abyss. But the strain is evident. Our body is deteriorating much faster than anticipated. Who would have guessed timid Tara would be so troublesome?I need a new vessel. A stronger one. Of course, my perfect vessel is even now being grown in Hilda’s distended belly, but I was supposed to have time. Tara’s body should have lasted long enough to raise the infant to a child before I
CereliaI’m not quite asleep, but I can sense something beckoning to me. Perhaps another nightmare waiting to bleed into reality. But I move closer anyway, drawn by a whisper that is neither sound nor silence.A presence lingers here, just beyond the veil of the living. I’ve never communed with the dead before and I’m honestly not overly eager to start now.A shiver runs through me and it feels like the world is holding its’ breath. Time stretches interminably and then, from the darkness, a voice speaks.“Cerelia.” I don’t flinch, even if every instinct I possess screams at me to run. The voice is hollow, echoing as if spoken through a cavern of time.A figure flickers into existence before me. A pale woman, her face gaunt, silvery eyes filled with something ancient and knowing.“Who are you?” I ask, my voice firm despite the ice creeping down my spine. “The one chosen to deliver a warning,” she says, and it’s not just her voice I hear. It’s the weight of countless others before her,
HildaThe silence after Cerelia’s warning is suffocating. Thick with unspoken fears and impossible choices. My hand trembles where it rests against my stomach, protectively hovering over the innocent life in there. She hasn’t even taken her first breath, and yet she’s already at the centre of a deadly conflict.Arlo stands across from me, his jaw tight, fists clenched at his sides. I can see his impotent fury at this untenable situation. He wants to fight. To strategize. But this isn’t a battle of strength or tactical maneuvering.“We have to talk to Astaroth,” I say, breaking the silence. The words taste like poison on my tongue. “No.” Arlo’s response is instant, as sharp as a blade. His eyes burn as they meet mine. “We’ll find another way.”“There isn’t one.” My voice wavers, but I force myself to hold his gaze. “I don’t dare attempt to wield Veilbreaker while I’m still pregnant. We don’t know what it would do to our daughter if my life essence is drained and it’s the only thing we
ArloHilda is quiet as we walk, but her fingers remain tightly laced with mine, her grip tight, as if she’s afraid I might slip away. The air is thick, heavy with the threat of a coming thunderstorm, but the weight pressing down on my chest has nothing to do with the weather.I glance at Hilda from the corner of my eye, at the set of her jaw, the way she seems to permanently keep one hand protectively over her stomach lately. I know she’s trying to be strong, trying to accept the choice we’ve made.The choice I made. The only one I can live with. I squeeze her hand, “You’re too quiet. That never means anything good.” She exhales sharply through her nose. “I’m just thinking.”“Dangerous endeavour, you wouldn’t want to go making a habit of it.” That earns me a glare, but there’s no real heat behind it. “Are we absolutely sure this is the only way?” she asks, her voice abnormally tentative. “That you have to deal with him?”It breaks my heart that she’s holding onto some small shred of h
Hilda I want to scream. I want to claw at what remains of the walls of this ruined temple and tear the very foundation apart, rip through stone and time itself, anything to stop the words that are spilling from Arlo’s lips.But I can’t. I can only stand here, hands clenched into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms as I watch the man I love offer himself to a demon.Arlo’s voice is steady, resolute. “Tell me what you want as payment for ending Morgana.” Astaroth pretends to think about it, “Your soul, and then your life. You could be a useful guard dog in the underworld. I have many enemies down there. Demons who are jealous of my success.”No. No, no, no. Arlo nods calmly, “Fine. But only after our daughter is born and I know she and Hilda are both healthy and safe, and Morgana is gone.”Astaroth smiles, slow and indulgent, as if savoring a particularly fine wine. “Ah. The noble sacrifice. How very predictable. It hurts that you won’t just take my word that I’ll uphold my
Hilda“Hilda, we already had an agreement. You had no right to gamble with your life that way. What if the demon didn’t back down and instead he attacked you?” Arlo growls, his voice low and vibrating with barely controlled fury.His hands are clenched into fists at his sides, his entire body tense, like he’s one breath away from shifting.I step toward him, meeting his anger head-on. “I will not apologize for refusing to accept that you offer your life in exchange for ours.” My voice shakes, not from fear, but from the sheer weight of what we’ve just done. “I won’t lose you, Arlo. I won’t.”“Oh, by all means,” Astaroth drawls, stretching his arms as if this entire situation is mildly amusing. “Please, continue to have your domestic spat right here in front of me. I don’t have places to be. And ‘the demon’ has a name and feelings. Spurious accusations of unwarranted violence wounds me deeply.”I glare at him. “I highly doubt that.” He places a hand over his chest in mock offense. “Wow
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
AshThe moment Cerelia finishes weaving the last of the spell, I feel the tension ease from the air.The humans stand frozen, still blank-faced and motionless, but something subtle has shifted in the atmosphere around them. Like a storm passing just overhead without breaking.Hilda rises from where she’s crouched by a line of confiscated weapons, brushing her hands clean against her pants. She strides toward Tara and me, her expression grim but steady.“It’s your call,” she says, her voice pitched low enough that only we can hear. “You have to decide whether Redgrave goes back to the city or if we deal with her here.”Tara turns to me immediately, her blue eyes fierce and sure. “Ash, it’s only fair that you get to choose,” she says. “I’ll stand by whatever you decide. You’re the one who suffered the most because of her.”For a moment, the world feels very small. Like the two of us are the only ones in existence. And the truth has been laid bare between us.And gods, the relief that po
CereliaI hear them long before I see them. The scuff of heavy boots against the forest floor. The low murmur of voices trying to stay quiet but too weighted with nerves and suspicion to succeed. Labored breathing and faint curses.Clearly the humans haven’t taken a moment to consider how sharp a wolf’s hearing is. Never thought their whispered orders and rattling weapons would be beacons in a forest whose sounds we know like they’re our own breaths.I tighten my focus, steadying the pulse of the spell waiting in my hands. It’s nearly time and I’m so ready for this to be over.All around me, the warriors stay perfectly still, crouched low among the shrubs and trees. No one moves a single muscle. They breathe so quietly that even I can’t hear them. It’s like the entire forest has conspired to hide us, holding its’ breath for what’s about to happen.They’re very close know. Hearing the rattle of Tara’s chains makes my jaw clench. Every soft clink is a reminder of why we’re doing this. W
CereliaI sit cross-legged within the circle of runes, hidden beneath a dense screen of shrubs and low-hanging branches. Around me, warriors melt into the landscape, nearly invisible even to my trained eyes. The humans will never spot us unless we want them to.At least, that’s the hope. They may have gadgets we’re not familiar with. I have to make sure my magic is faster than anything they have to offer.I roll the smooth amber stone between my palms, centering myself. The amplification spell thrums around me, delicate but vast, like a spider web stretched to its limit. It’s ready. I’m ready. Now we just have to wait.Hilda crouches beside me, watching the distant path through the trees where our enemies will appear. Her face is set in that calm, slightly amused expression she wears when she’s holding a dozen different plans in her head at once.Scarlett can be rightfully proud to have this fierce woman as her mother, I think to myself.Hilda’s head cocks to the side before she le