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Chapter 447 Weavers’ Tongues

Author: Judith GW
last update Huling Na-update: 2025-06-25 11:09:12

Victoria

I wake with a gasp, my throat tight with the scream I’m suppressing, heart hammering at an unsustainable pace.

I know it wasn’t just a dream.

Something, someone, was whispering in my ear. And it wasn’t Loki this time. I know his cadence. The feeling of his proximity. Not that he really bothers with whispers anymore. We’re well past that point.

This wasn’t silk and temptation. This was colder. Rougher. It felt like being stitched from the inside out. Without any sedatives or sympathy.

I sit up slowly, sheets clinging to my sweat-damp skin. The air is thick. Too heavy to breathe right. Like the whole room is holding its breath.

Then I hear it again. Not with my ears. Not exactly. It’s like a thread winding through my chest, placing the words right in my head.

spindle.

the spindle wakes.

The words aren’t spoken. They’re woven.

I clutch the edge of the bed, mooring myself in cotton and sweat and the dull ache between my ribs. I should be scared. And I am a little, but mostly I’m
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  • Rejected by My Mate, Fated to the Lycan King   Chapter 447 Weavers’ Tongues

    VictoriaI wake with a gasp, my throat tight with the scream I’m suppressing, heart hammering at an unsustainable pace.I know it wasn’t just a dream.Something, someone, was whispering in my ear. And it wasn’t Loki this time. I know his cadence. The feeling of his proximity. Not that he really bothers with whispers anymore. We’re well past that point.This wasn’t silk and temptation. This was colder. Rougher. It felt like being stitched from the inside out. Without any sedatives or sympathy.I sit up slowly, sheets clinging to my sweat-damp skin. The air is thick. Too heavy to breathe right. Like the whole room is holding its breath.Then I hear it again. Not with my ears. Not exactly. It’s like a thread winding through my chest, placing the words right in my head.spindle.the spindle wakes.The words aren’t spoken. They’re woven.I clutch the edge of the bed, mooring myself in cotton and sweat and the dull ache between my ribs. I should be scared. And I am a little, but mostly I’m

  • Rejected by My Mate, Fated to the Lycan King   Chapter 446 What We Swallow to Survive

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  • Rejected by My Mate, Fated to the Lycan King   Chapter 445 In the Teeth of Gods

    SigneThe ash is still warm.I crouch beside the sigil, heart hammering in my throat. It’s burned into the flagstones behind the old cathedral, shallow but precise. Spiral-tipped, like teeth.It wasn’t here yesterday.Cerelia kneels beside me, fingers glowing faintly with detection runes. “It’s the same symbol as the others.”“No,” I murmur. “This one’s active.”It’s fresh. The edges haven’t cooled yet. The ground still hums like it remembers being breached.I press my palm against it.Power bites me immediately. Not like Loki’s magic, or even the Weavers’ work. This is colder. Hungrier.Cerelia hisses and pulls my hand back. “Don’t touch it.”“I had to feel what it is.”She wipes my palm clean with a cloth, but the sensation lingers. Like the sigil marked me back. My magic trembles inside me, uneasy.We’ve been tracking these things for days. A pattern of strange glyphs, planted on rooftops, doorframes, old stones. We thought they were surveillance. Or warnings.We were wrong. They’r

  • Rejected by My Mate, Fated to the Lycan King   Chapter 444 Everything That Burns

    HildaThe walls in this damn inn are too thin. Scarlett slammed the door two hours ago and Erik hasn’t come out since.I told myself I’d wait, give her space. But the longer I sit with the silence, the more it boils in my veins.She’s breaking. She’s burning. And I don’t know how to stop it.I’m pacing when Arlo walks in, shrugging off his coat like it weighs ten pounds more than usual. He looks wrecked. Drawn tight at the jaw, shoulders too stiff, like he’s forcing every breath.Like me, he hasn’t slept right for weeks. His eyes meet mine and there’s no pretense.“She’s slipping,” I say.“I know.”“We’re losing her.”“No,” he says, voice rough. “We’re not.”“I want to rip that thread right out of her chest,” I whisper. “Loki’s mark. I feel it when I look at her. Like poison curling under her skin.”His gaze sharpens with shared fury, but then softens. He steps forward and kisses me. Hard.No preamble. No slow build. Just heat and teeth and his hands already tugging at my clothes like

  • Rejected by My Mate, Fated to the Lycan King   Chapter 443 Threadmarks

    ScarlettThe mirror doesn’t ripple when I speak his name. But I know he hears me. Loki always hears, because he’s always lurking. Waiting for me to call him.“Show yourself,” I say quietly. Not begging. Not afraid. Pissed off and ready for battle.The silence stretches.Then the light in the room bends, shadows slipping sideways. And there he is. Leaning against the doorframe like he’s been waiting the whole time.Pale as bone, dressed in black, and smiling like he was carved from vice.“You rang,” he murmurs.I don’t rise. I don’t flinch. I just sit on the edge of the bed and look at him like he’s already disappointed me.“I want you out of my thread.”He lifts a brow. “That’s not how bindings work, darling.”“I didn’t bind you.”“You touched the loom with my energy inside you. That’s as good as an invitation.”“You took something from me.”“No,” he says, and steps closer. “I marked what was already mine.”The room feels too small with him in it. The magic under my skin begins to sti

  • Rejected by My Mate, Fated to the Lycan King   Chapter 442 The Fracture Beneath the Flame

    ErikThe runes on my arms pulse like bruises beneath my skin.They used to respond to thought. To focus. Now they answer emotion. Instinct. Fear. And that’s dangerous. Because I can’t hide either of those things anymore.I tighten the leather strap around my wrist to hide the shimmer crawling beneath the ink, but it does nothing to dull the hum in my bones.It’s been getting louder for days. The binding I placed on myself is faltering.And I don’t know how much longer I can pretend I’m holding it together.The others are in the sitting room when I walk in.Cerelia, my mother, Scarlett, even Arlo and Hilda. There’s a hush to the air. The kind that tastes like a storm before it breaks.Cerelia’s eyes track my movements the second I cross the threshold. “You’re late.”“I was working,” I lie.Scarlett stands, her jaw tight. “You missed breakfast.”“I wasn’t hungry.”She crosses her arms. “Erik-”“I said I’m fine.”The lie sounds worse when I hear it out loud.Cerelia sets her tea down and

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