Six Moons Of Desire

“Maxton had always known his curse would change his life, but he never expected it to begin with his mother’s blood on the floor.”“He’s into you, I promise,” Maxton told his friend.“Are you sure? ’Cause he really doesn’t look like he likes me,” his friend said, worry etched on her face, though her eyes still gleamed with hope.“Believe me, he does. Just push his buttons a little, he’ll be happy. He doesn’t know how to express himself, that’s all,” Maxton replied.At twenty-three, Maxton carried a secret—an ability to share people’s emotions and glimpse into their memories. A year ago, during his birthday celebration, he had collapsed . Three months in a coma, and when he woke, he wasn’t the same. No doctor could explain what had happened. But Maxton knew. He could feel the emotions of others as if they were his own.At first, it terrified him. He didn’t dare tell anyone, not even his mother. But every full moon he would dream of running through the woods, always with a shadow beh

Dryann sprawled in the steaming tub, muscles trembling, cum streaking down his stomach into the water. His chest rose and fell, every breath sharp, ragged.“That was a good one,” Dan muttered, watching him with a lazy grin, cock still semi-hard between his thighs. “How you feeling?”“Half-fucking-satisfied,” Dryann panted, smirking even as his body begged for more.Dan’s grin widened. “Then let me fix that.”He scooped a handful of water, splashing it over Dryann’s face before reaching for the soap. He lathered it slowly, deliberately, his eyes fixed on him with that dangerous gleam.“Turn around,” Dan ordered, voice low, rough. “On all fours.”The command hit Dryann like fire. He braced himself against the slick porcelain, ass raised, cock still aching.Dan’s hand slid down his spine, soap-slick fingers spreading his cheeks before pushing inside. One finger, then two, curling, stretching him until Dryann’s moan bounced off the tiled walls.“Fuck, Dan… don’t stop,” he gasped, stroking

“Let’s see… marrying you and leaving my mom, accepting his family’s business and abandoning a pregnant woman. I understand you trying to speak for your husband but—” Maxton’s voice hardened.Amaretti cut in softly. “His wolf was bounded.”Maxton blinked. What?“Excuse me? What do you mean his wolf was bounded?”Her voice was calm but heavy with sorrow. “His wolf was caged within him when his father learned he was searching for your mother. His wolf suffered for years. He couldn’t leave the clan. Your grandfather threatened to kill your mother if he kept looking for her. So he stopped—hoping one day, she would find him.”Maxton stared at her, thinking she must be insane. Maybe she was speaking in metaphors. “Ohh… okay,” he muttered, unsure how else to reply.She only nodded, motherly in her expression.Then her gaze sharpened. “How did you know the details of your crime scene? I thought there were no witnesses.”He hesitated, unsure if he should reveal his truth. But he did anyway.

“Maxton, you possibly can’t expect me to leave you alone. You’re breaking inside, and you’re my son. Let me be there for you.”Alpha Mason’s voice carried a weight Maxton had never heard before, desperation. The man who ruled empires with an iron hand suddenly sounded like a father afraid to lose his child.But Maxton only felt the air closing in, suffocating. He stepped back, putting space between them.“All my life, I’ve been lied to,” Maxton hissed. His voice cracked, his fists clenched. “From dreaming of being chased by a shadow dog, to finding out I’m part animal that runs on all fours. And now I’m the heir to a house of furs, expected to embrace this curse, or else I die.”His eyes burned with grief as he jabbed a finger toward his father.“My mom died because of me. Because of you.”Mason flinched, but he didn’t look away.“My life is unraveling. Out of control. I feel like I’m going crazy.” Maxton’s voice lowered to a hoarse whisper. “I want to escape this nightmare. Escape th

Maxton woke the next morning feeling heavy, like an aftermath of drowning in liquor. His head swam, his body sluggish, every nerve tingling with exhaustion.When he tried to sit up, the world tilted. He steadied himself against the bedframe, his breaths uneven.“Hey, careful, you can’t stand yet.”Amaretti slipped quietly into the room, balancing a tray with a steaming bowl of soup. Her tone was softer than he’d ever heard it, almost maternal.“I brought you a healing broth,” she said, setting the tray on the nightstand. “Annette made it.”“Annette?” Maxton’s voice cracked, his throat dry.“The sage,” she explained. “She said this will help you recover faster.”“Oh.” He forced a small smile, taking the bowl from her. “Thanks.”Their hands brushed as he did, expecting to get the already familiar sizzling, he got nothing.He grabbed her hand again, testing. Still nothing.“I can’t feel you,” he whispered, half in disbelief, half in wonder.Amaretti’s lips curved in relief. “The bindin