ログインOakleyAlpin steps into the water. He’s naked. Totally, completely naked. It doesn’t matter. His skin is scorched to a crisp, all shades of red, blue, and black. His arm hangs at an awkward angle from his left shoulder, useless. But in his right arm, he brandishes what I believe is an axe. I push upright, swaying as my body rejects the sudden movement. He slowly moves in my direction. I suppose if he were in better shape, I’d be dead by now at his hand, but neither of us are at our best, and that is in my favor. I brace myself on a tree, taking several painful, burning breaths. My legs refuse to cooperate, even staring death in the face. Alpin can’t speak, which I realize within seconds as his battered face catches a single beam of moonlight breaking through the smokey sky. His jaw is completely dislocated. His teeth are shattered–a bloody, uncanny mess. He went through hell. He deserved it. I take a step away from him, and my legs immediately buckle. I flail, but my hand slips fr
OakleyI’ve seen plenty of people shift into wolves. It’s such a common occurrence that it’s not something I dwell on. Some people are very dramatic about it, shifting in an instant and letting their clothing fray to ribbons. Others take their time, stretching and loosening up before stripping naked and neatly folding their clothes. It’s not violent or painful. It’s a simple, little pop, and all of a sudden, they have four legs instead of two. This is different. This is bloody and grotesque. This is painful, and it’s happening right above me. My scream is swallowed by a sucking sound that shatters the air around us. Ian’s pain radiates through me, forcing my heart to beat like a quick, frantic drum. His skin turns an inky, swallow green before melting away and revealing his new form. Perhaps his true form. “Don’t move!” Wren shouts, holding his hands out in surrender as Ian, now fully seated in his beast form, his wings expanded as far as possible in the snug, low-ceiling room, lif
Ian“You never shared your name.”The healer tucks her silver hair behind her ears and completely ignores my statement. She’s been busy with her hands for the past hour, grinding herbs and packing them away into little bags. The scents are all familiar healing herbs that are grown throughout Eastonia–familiar spices, familiar sounds. I could be back in New Glade, if this room was different. It’s all the same. She tucks the bundles into a canvas backpack, adding to a growing collection of supplies she means to send with Oakley when Wren’s friend, Amalie, comes to fetch her. I won’t recognize Amalie. I haven’t seen anyone from their pack, or skulk, in fox terms. We’ve been locked away here, in what I believe are this healer’s private rooms. “You need to eat. You haven’t touched your porridge.” She points at the bowl in front of me. “You have a long night ahead of you.”“Wouldn’t it be better for my beast to be starving? Wren wants violence. I can give that to him.”“Wren is risking ev
OakleyI suppose, looking back on my entire life, I had girlish, romantic notions about eventually finding my mate. Yes, I have been one to say things like, “The mate bond isn’t instantaneous for everyone,” or to straight up allude to the idea that the moment of knowing isn’t like a lightning bolt to the chest, or tasting color, or seeing music notes floating around–however people describe it. Maybe the lucky ones feel like that and get their happily ever after immediately. But what is a relationship with one’s mate, possibly future husband, and the future father of my children, without a little… strife? Ian looks like he’s been dragged through hell and back twice over, and somehow, is still so handsome I could cry. I should feel lucky, and maybe, deep down, I do. But this was not how I imagined finding out I have a mate, and I have no doubt that he feels the same way. Bowls of soup go untouched on a table on the far side of the snug room where we’re being kept like prisoners beca
IanI know exactly who I am. That’s my problem as I stand in the center of a wide, earthen, circular room somewhere deep underground. An elderly woman rises on her toes to inspect the moon-shaped scars on my wrist. Her touch is gentle but prodding, especially on the older scars. My entire body is thrumming, however, with a new kind of knowledge that threatens to bring me to the floor, and there isn’t a chair or a stool in sight. She looks up into my eyes. “She’s fine. Resting. She stayed out there with you all night.”“No one should have allowed her near me.”“We tried.” She rewraps a loose bandage around the scars. “Do you know where you are?”I don’t bother shaking my head. I’m exhausted. I feel like my bones are worn so thin they’ll break if I so much as take a step. Above all, I feel an earth-shattering kind of guilt that’s woven so tightly between my ribs I find it hard to breathe. “What’s happening to us?” I ask, and the old woman meets my gaze again. “I’m a fox, did you kn
NaomiJuliette is probably the loveliest young woman I’ve ever seen. She’s kind and soft spoken, like her mother, Posey. She’s also very quiet and shy, all qualities she inherited from one of my favorite aunts. She has an underlying streak of rebelliousness, however, that screams allegiance to the Westwood side of our family, even if Great-Grandpa Ryatt refuses to admit that most of the drama our side of the family causes is a direct result of his, and Ella’s, genetics–the two most dramatic people in the Goddess’ kingdom. Julie, however, keeps that part of her safely hidden, which makes her the perfect spy. She’s only twenty, poor thing. She has an old soul and no patience for petty, girlish games and crushes. Her entire world revolves around alchemy, and she is exceptional at it. “It feels nice. I like the weight,” I muse, turning a smooth, silver blade over in my hand to inspect the mother-of-pearl grip I requested. “The alchemized moonstone can hold a good bit of power if you c
*Isla*“Look at you,” Maddox beams as he balances on his hands and knees in front of Isaac on the floor in the large, airy sitting room near the library. I glance up from the magazine I’m reading to watch them, smiling as Maddox drops onto his elbows to look Isaac in the eyes. Isaac, hating every min
*Maddy*Wind whispers over us. Little flakes of silver ice bite into my cheeks despite the fact that it’s summer. Nothing here feels right. The long dead grass sways in a vicious breeze, the air so chilled it stings. The sky is pitch black and moonless, like the night came and refused to ease its gri
*Isaac*“How did you get in here?”The young man, no older than myself, rolls his neck as his gaze drops from my face to scan the room. “It’s a strange feeling being on the brink of war, isn’t it? Knowing it’s coming and knowing there’s only so much you can do to prepare.” His eyes meet mine again, co
*Maddy*There’s a commotion in the hallway outside the parlor door. I don’t know how long I've been sitting on the ground staring into the fire, but the click of the knob catches my attention, so I turn my head. Hannah, with her curly blonde hair tied back from her kind, smiling face, steps in throug







