MasukIanFraser appears in the throne room carrying a large armchair like it weighs nothing. He spots me, nods like this is a casual encounter, and sets the chair on the ground, where he proceeds to drag it several dozen meters into the center of the room. The scraping grinds my gears. My ears ring, but I think that was the point. The dragon sits and splays out in a very relaxed manner, propping his ankle on his opposite knee. He looks me up and down from a safe distance away. “Remove your shirt and pants.”I grit my teeth. “Normally, I’d like to get to know you a bit better first.”“Now, shifter. This is not a game. I have very little men’s clothing that would fit someone your size.”I shrug out of my shirt. It falls in a heap, which I kick away. My pants are next. Standing in nothing but boxers against the cold bite funneling through every open-air archway exposed to the elements, I keep my eyes locked on Fraser’s face, and his smirk digs deep into my subconscious, making me feel more e
NaomiOakley fainted again. I can’t say I’m surprised. It didn’t take much to have her lay prostrate in Ian’s lap after just the mention of cutting her afflicted arm off, which is not happening. Not if I have anything to do with it. That marked the end of the conversation. Fraser, to his credit, simply pursed his lips while the rest of us dove head first into a rather righteous argument about our next steps, and then he put us in our places by offering warmth and food. None of us could argue against the fact that we’ve all spent several days cold and wet in the woods and were slowly losing our minds. Ian took Oakley to some room in what I’m now realizing is Fraser’s private wing of this place. His home. His lair. Fennec couldn’t convince Wren to come with him, to do what, I didn’t ask, but instead disappeared into the corridors and adjoining rooms and hasn’t been seen since we shared a quiet, exhausted supper of vegetable soup, cooked by Juliette because Fraser doesn’t eat. Or, at
OakleyIan’s hand is possessively locked around mine while an entirely new world comes into startling focus. The cave floor has a gentle slope that we follow, with Juliette and Lord Fraser leading the way. Wren and Fennec are close behind, both of them utterly beside themselves over Juliette’s safety, but she doesn’t seem upset at all. In fact, she’s smiling up at the exceedingly handsome Fraser with so much light and excitement behind her eyes that I feel oddly at ease about our strange situation. Still, we’re being led by nothing but two oil lanterns and a whim. Just when the shadows feel like they’ll swallow us whole, the dry, mountain air shifts, and wet heat rolls toward us, followed by a distant light. Naomi, who has been grumbling beside me for the better part of ten minutes, squints into the light, and then her eyes widen. Ian jerks to a stop. Fennec nearly trips over his own feet. Juliette be damned, according to us. Only Wren ignores the scene playing out before us to f
IanOakley moves from one end of the cottage to the other, tidying little sticks and tossing rocks in a pile near what can be construed as the front door. I’m leaning on the stone wall I imagined I might turn into a hearth one day during my ridiculous day dreams, watching her spiral. “Can we please talk about this, Oakley?”“There’s nothing new to say. You’ve already made it clear I cannot stay here with you and that you’re going to reject me. Maybe you’re right, and that’s the only way to save the both of us, but I just–” She skirts past me and neatly sets her armful of twigs on the ground just beyond the cottage rubble. “Don’t touch those. I’m going to make a broom.”“Okay,” I breathe, reaching to catch her arm before she manages to sneak past me again, but I miss, and she goes back to whatever she’s doing. Clearing her mind. Keeping her hands busy while the world burns down around us. I get it. It’s probably why, after returning from the creek, I gathered several logs and started
IanRain slides off the branches serving as a makeshift roof above the cottage. I’ve been awake for at least an hour now, I believe, staring up at nothing while pondering everything I’d need to do to make this a home. New walls, for sure, but there’s plenty of river rock nearby that can be stacked in place. A large addition wouldn’t take much time or added skill. Wood is abundant. I could have two new rooms built by the time the first snow flies. The rest would come in time. Real flooring. Furniture. Windows to let the sunlight in. Sunlight I imagine would warm a real bed where I could wake up every morning to… this. It’s asinine. A stupid, farfetched daydream. I still linger in it while Oakley sleeps beside me, her cheek resting on my chest, her body curled around mine. My lucid dreams come to a screeching halt when a twig snaps a quarter mile away. I slowly untangle myself from Oakley, draping her cloak over her still half-naked body. I keep an eye on her while stepping into my
OakleyIan scoops me into his arms and carries me over the threshold of the long-missing front door. What’s left of the cottage is painted in shadow, and rain patters on the top of my head and my shoulders. I barely notice the clouds now blocking whatever moonlight there is to be had, but it doesn’t matter. None of this matters. He lays me down in the only sheltered corner of the cottage. A bed of moss and forest debris creates a nest of softness I melt into the moment my back touches the ground. I dig my fingers in and flex them over his shoulders, his bare chest, and down, mapping every sharp angle, rigid muscle, and scar, but he doesn’t lower to meet me. Rainwater drips from his hair and down his nose, falling onto my parted lips. His eyes, still trapped between his true self and his ever-shifting beast forms, search mine in the silence broken only by our racing hearts. “Stay here,” he says slowly, and he rises, angling into the rainy darkness falling like a blanket over the co
EllaIt’s odd seeing Ryatt in plain clothes. He doesn’t fit here, I realize, as I watch him turn his gaze from the strangers seated nearby back to the water all around us. He’s been silent since we walked onto the ferry that runs between the isles and Maatua. I wish I could take a peek into his mind,
*Ryatt*Twin Rivers is nothing but ash and stone as I walk beside Westfall through a wall of heavy fog tinged with smoke. It ripples around my boots as each of my steps echo in the nothingness the last battle left behind. Over the mind-link, I hear the voices of my commanders rattling off the names o
*Ryatt*We stood in silence against the beating of drums and the thrumming sounds of voices lifted in song. I’d watched the eclipse cast the entire world in shadow, the event making my own shadow powers sing. But my eyes were on the lake–still as glass–and my mate, who’d gone beneath the surface. I w
*Maddy*Cassian is in pieces. That’s the only way I can describe him. His chest is flayed open, the bandages holding him together are soaked through with blood. Isla’s magic isn’t working fast enough. She’s leaning over him, her face stained with fresh tears as she pours a fourth vial of that preciou







