In a world where werewolves hide in plain sight, Lyra Blackthorn, a fierce and independent alpha’s daughter, is forced into an arranged mating with Kael Thornwyn, the ruthless heir of a rival pack—one responsible for the death of her brother. Their union is meant to end decades of bloodshed, but hatred burns hotter than peace. Despite their initial loathing, sparks ignite between them. Kael’s cold demeanor begins to crack, revealing a tormented soul haunted by a dark past. Lyra, torn between duty and vengeance, struggles with feelings she never expected to have for the man she swore to hate. Join the thrilling journey which will make you hold your breath.
View MoreThe forest never slept. Even in stillness, it pulsed with ancient energy—wild, restless, and eternal. Trees stood like silent sentinels, their canopies clawing at the sky, veiling the stars. The moon hovered like a silver eye above the world, watching. Waiting.
And beneath it all, Lyra Blackthorn ran. Her breath fanned in soft clouds, chest heaving as she darted between trees. Her black cloak billowed behind her, mist curling at the hem. Moss and roots kissed her bare feet, but she didn’t flinch. She wasn’t afraid of thorns. She had grown among them.
This part of the woods had long been forbidden by her pack—neutral ground between rival territories. A place soaked in the blood of a forgotten war. But tonight, something called to her from the silence. Something more primal than instinct. Something older than the moon itself. A scent.
Not human. Not fully wolf.
It was smoke and spice. Power and ruin.
She stopped near a ridge overlooking the valley below. The river shimmered like molten silver in the moonlight, winding between jagged rocks. Her emerald eyes scanned the dark, and her heart slowed to a predator’s pace. Whatever it was… it wasn’t natural.
The mark on her collarbone—the crescent scar she had hidden since birth—burned faintly against her skin.
She was being watched.
Her hand slid to the blade strapped to her thigh, a ceremonial dagger forged from silver and obsidian. Wind whistled through the trees, stirring her hair like a lover’s fingers. She crouched lower, letting her senses sharpen.
Then—a snap. A crack of a branch behind her. Lyra spun, blade drawn, eyes glowing faintly with her wolf’s light. But it wasn’t a monster that stepped from the trees.
It was him.
Kael Thornwyn.
Her breath caught. Not from fear—never from fear—but from fury. From memory. From hate.
He moved like shadow incarnate—tall, broad-shouldered, with hair as dark as pitch and eyes like gold melted in flame. Even under the moonlight, there was something unholy in the way he stood, in the effortless grace that made her stomach twist with something she refused to name.
The Thornwyn heir. Prince of her father’s enemies.
The son of the man who had killed her brother.
“What are you doing here?” Her voice cut through the silence like frost on glass.
Kael’s lips curved into something dangerous—half amusement, half warning. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that, little Blackthorn? You’re far from home.”
Her grip on the dagger tightened. “This is neutral ground. You’re trespassing.”
“Not anymore,” he said, taking a step forward.Her heartbeat spiked. Her wolf surged beneath her skin, begging to tear, to shift, to fight.
But Kael didn’t attack.
He studied her with that maddening calm, his golden gaze flicking across her face, lingering at her collarbone as if he could sense what lay beneath the fabric. Lyra’s hand trembled just once. She hated that he noticed.
“You smell different tonight,” he said quietly, voice velvet and smoke. “Like fire… and secrets.”
“Back off.”He tilted his head, that same crooked smirk returning. “You always draw your blade before you speak. Charming.”
“I’d rather draw blood.”
“Tempting.” He closed the distance between them in a breath. One moment he stood yards away, the next—he was inches from her, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his skin. Her back hit a tree, the bark rough beneath her cloak. His hand pinned her wrist above her head, not cruelly, but firmly. Possessively.
“I should kill you,” she whispered.
“I know.” His voice dropped lower. “But you won’t.”
Her pulse throbbed in her throat. She hated that her body didn’t recoil. Hated the electric tension between them, the way his scent curled around her like a chain. Her wolf didn’t want to retreat. It wanted to understand him.
“I know what your family did,” she snapped. “I know what you did.”
His gaze darkened. “Do you?”
“I saw your father at Blood Valley. I saw what he did to my brother.”
A muscle ticked in Kael’s jaw. For a brief moment, something fractured in his expression—regret, maybe. Pain. Then it was gone.
“Your version of that night is a story you were told,” he murmured. “But stories lie, Lyra. Ask your Alpha. Ask your father what really happened.”
She flinched. “You’re lying.”
“Am I?” He leaned in closer, his breath brushing her cheek. “Or are you afraid of the truth?”
The wind shifted. A howl pierced the stillness—a long, mournful cry carried from the west. Urgent. Warning.
Lyra jerked away, and Kael let her go without resistance.
“You should go,” he said, voice suddenly grave. “Something’s coming. Something worse than either of us.”
She hesitated, heart pounding. “Why warn me?”
He stepped back into the shadows. “Because I want you alive. When the time comes, you’ll understand why.”
And then—he was gone. No footsteps. No scent trail. Just mist.
Lyra stared into the empty woods, blood roaring in her ears. What had he meant? Why now? And what had he seen that she hadn’t?
She turned and ran. The forest blurred around her, branches clawing at her skin. She didn’t stop until the walls of the Blackthorn estate loomed before her—tall, gray, and ancient.
But something was wrong.
The gates stood ajar. The guards—two of the best warriors in her pack—were slumped unconscious beside the iron posts. Her stomach dropped.
She crossed the threshold cautiously, dagger ready. The courtyard was too quiet. No voices. No footsteps. No scent of her father.
Then she saw it.
Pinned to the heavy oak door of the manor, a single white rose.
Its petals were pristine, untouched by blood or dust. But she knew what it meant.
A Thornwyn mark.
A warning. A declaration.
A claim.
“No…” she whispered, reaching for the rose with shaking hands.
There was something tucked behind it—a folded scrap of parchment, sealed with the Thornwyn crest. She tore it open, her eyes scanning the message.
Four words.
We always take back what’s ours.
Ashara lay on the soft bed, cocooned in the thick blanket Luca had given her, but sleep refused to come.The room was warm, quiet—too quiet—and yet her mind buzzed with noise. Thoughts collided like crashing waves, refusing to settle. No matter how hard she tried, her body remained tense, her heart restless.She turned over again and again, the unfamiliar ceiling above her only deepening the sense of displacement. Every creak of the wooden walls, every hiss of the wind outside made her eyes snap open. Luca’s cabin was beautiful, no doubt—but it felt… haunted.Not by ghosts. But by secrets.Finally, with a sigh of frustration, Ashara threw off the blanket and sat up. The floor was cold against her feet as she padded across the room, her arms wrapped around herself for comfort.She moved toward the window. Maybe the night air would ease her nerves.Pushing the curtain aside, she looked out—and froze.There, outside in the thick snow under the pale silver moon, stood Luca.Ashara leaned
Luca could feel her eyes on him. Curious. Searching. As if she was trying to solve a puzzle she didn’t even know existed.Ashara leaned a little closer, her brows furrowed in subtle suspicion, and then—without warning—asked, “Do you wear lenses?”The question hit the air like a shard of ice. Luca didn’t flinch. But he knew immediately why she was asking.The cold.It was always the cold. Prolonged exposure to the snow had triggered the change—the faint, unnatural glow in his irises that shimmered like liquid mercury. It always happened when he let his guard down.And she had noticed.Luca held her gaze with an unreadable expression, then shrugged coolly, “Yeah. I do. Prescription lenses.”His voice was smooth, calm—too calm. But Ashara didn’t look convinced. In fact, her breath hitched as she stepped back just a little, her arms tightening around the quilt.She didn’t say anything, but her eyes betrayed her. There was fear there. A flicker of something primitive. Not because she under
The snow had begun to fall softly across the vast, silent landscape.Luca lay still on the frozen ground, his body impervious to the cold that would kill any warm-blooded creature. For him, the ice was comforting—numbing. A sharp contrast to the fire that raged eternally within his chest.Above him, the night sky stretched endlessly, but he didn’t see the stars.He saw her.Lyra.Her face came to him with painful clarity. That soft, radiant smile that never needed a reason. The way her eyes—those eyes that danced with light—could silence storms inside him. Her voice was a melody, and her touch had once made his lifeless skin feel warmth he didn’t know he craved.No one ever knew. No one.Not Carlos. Not even Kael.Luca had buried his love for Lyra so deep that not even the darkness that clung to his soul could reach it. It was his secret. His shame. His agony.Because Lyra had never been his.She had belonged to Kael from the start.And Luca… he had only watched. Always from a distanc
The soft hum of silence wrapped around Ashara like a cocoon as her lashes fluttered open. Her eyes adjusted slowly to the warm morning light spilling across the wooden ceiling above her. For a moment, she lay there, blinking lazily as her body shifted and twisted over the soft mattress beneath her. The blanket was thick, the bed large, and the room… unfamiliar. But not frightening.A sigh escaped her lips as she stretched her limbs and sat up. Her fingers brushed over the silken sheets as she took in her surroundings—a cozy room with rustic charm, the wooden walls polished to a warm shine, fur rugs laid across the floor, and tall bookshelves flanking the walls. Everything looked elegant yet lived-in. A faint smell of cedarwood lingered in the air.Ashara slid her legs off the bed, her bare feet touching the cold but smooth floor. She wrapped the throw around her shoulders and padded toward the enormous window draped with sheer curtains. As she pulled them aside, her breath hitched—not
The moon hung high above the treetops, casting a silver glow across the darkened forest. Its light shimmered through the canopy, illuminating Ashara’s unsteady figure as she stumbled away from the camp, her bare feet crunching on fallen leaves and twigs.She had woken up abruptly, still tipsy, her head spinning but her mind fogged with something more than just the effects of the drink. Disoriented and still half-asleep, she had fumbled with the zipper of her tent, whispering to herself about needing the washroom—but no one had been awake to guide her, and she couldn’t quite recall where it was.So she walked.Past the sleeping tents, past the dying embers of the campfire, and straight into the woods.Branches swayed gently in the breeze. Owls hooted in the distance. The forest was alive in a way most humans would fear at this hour—but not Ashara. Not tonight. She was too lost in her thoughts to even notice how far she was going.“Mmh… dad’s so stupid sometimes…” she muttered, pushing
The music pulsed through the open air, lights flashing rhythmically as the party roared in full swing. Laughter, chatter, and the distant clinking of glasses blended into a warm, vibrant hum that filled the night sky. The bonfire crackled in the center of the clearing, throwing golden sparks into the wind, and Ashara stood beneath a canopy of fairy lights, laughing with Amaira and Jade, her smile wide and carefree.Zev leaned against the wooden pillar of the gazebo, a red cup in his hand, his eyes following her every move. There was something magnetic about the way she moved tonight—her happiness wasn’t just a look, it was a feeling that radiated off her, infectious and light, a stark contrast to the pain she’d carried for days. For the first time in a long while, Ashara was breathing freely, her burdens tucked away behind that smile. And Zev couldn’t look away.“Bro,” came Rayan’s voice from beside him, nudging Zev in the ribs. “This is the moment. If you’re gonna do it, do it now. S
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