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Not Who She Thinks He Is
Date de publication:
2023-03-25 06:03:17
Dernier chapitre
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Fallon“I am on my moon cycle!” I rush out between kisses, but Zayn is out of his damn mind. His tongue sweeps over mine before he bites down on my lower lip and groans. I suppose, at some point, I wished to the Goddess that this man would eventually unleash himself, but seeing as I am in a state of hormonal duress, he needs to calm the fuck down. “Zayn,” I pant, giving him a slight shove. “We can’t.”“One bite,” he breathes, chasing my mouth with his, “and I’ll have you ovulating. Don’t worry.”“What in the Goddess’s great kingdom are you talking about?” I bark a laugh, shoving him back again. “You’re a lunatic.”His eyes are still that polished hazel that sets fire to my veins. I suppose it wouldn’t be that bad, all things considered. I am the one in my own way, so to speak. My embarrassment and uncertainty mingle with the waves of desire threatening to have me throwing caution to the wind. “You know so little about shifters,” he says, pressing the words against my neck in a feath
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FallonI point to the group of orbs bobbing over our heads. Zayn braces his hands against the table, bowing his head for several aching seconds, no doubt soaking in the scene that just played out. I’m past it. I have to be. I have to swallow that painful, involuntary vision deep and let it fester for later, when we’ve both had a moment to think back on it. I can’t let him see me hesitate. Not now. Zayn is barely hanging on by a thread as it stands. He has the entire burden of KiloKilo’s future on his shoulders. I can cut him some slack. For the night, at least. No more than that, though. I have a reputation as a supreme pest to uphold. “You’re missing it!” I hiss, nudging his shoulder. “Look!” Several different memories play out within the orbs. Some are mine, from my childhood. Some are his, from his earliest days. Me as a baby. Zayn as a toddler. Me at maybe five or six, finally coming to some kind of truce with a toddler version of Naomi after Sterling was born. Zayn and Tali a
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FallonMy wavering, uncontrollable emotions and utter lack of a rational brain are confirmed directly after supper, when I feel the sudden urge to curl into a ball and cry. My moon cycles are incredibly regular–to the day, to the hour. Back home in Moonrise, I could give myself a ten-minute countdown to the grand event. But here? I manage to pull myself out of bed and scrub my hand through my hair, glowering at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I look exhausted. Run through. The works. I should go to bed. I should raid the kitchen for anything sweet. I shouldn’t be slipping into a nightgown while eyeing the magic journal Zayn keeps on the dresser, which is open, waiting for the moment I finally summon the courage to write to my family. Zayn has been the one corresponding with them. I’ve read the letters, of course. Naomi and Zayn have formed a camaraderie at my expense. My dad writes short, blunt notes pertaining to the events taking place in the Allied Kingdoms and asks about m
The Alpha King's Breeder Like Other Witches
ZaynTali purses his lips while leaning against the old well in the center of Eurye’s market district. With his eyes, he follows the progress of a woman in a black cloak and two preteen shifter girls squealing in delight as the witch bounces on her heels, straddling a wiry old broom, with the two girls seated behind her. In a flash, the broom is airborne, and the girls screech in delight, the trio zooming through the crowd, people jumping to get out of their way. I eye the Alpha of this territory, who looks as pale and unsure as every other shifter visiting the market today. Black cloaks dot the crowd, broomsticks strapped to their backs and baskets hanging from their elbows. The shifters selling wares begrudgingly drop into conversation with the witches, accepting coins and the occasional potion in exchange for vegetables and loaves of bread. Some sellers are more enthusiastic about the witches than others, but most are unsure how to act. The children at the market, however? They’r
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FallonI don’t like feeling this way. My chest feels heavy and tight. My throat hurts every time I swallow. Grief and jealousy mingle into a tangled net that creates another kind of feeling–a twisting of the two that makes me want to cry more than anything, which is ridiculous. I am ridiculous. I’m being insane. Stella is beautiful, though, which makes this worse. Her sculpted bone structure and thick, red hair catch shadows painted by master artists as she slowly unbuttons Eniana’s nightgown, exposing her bare, pale chest. Her green eyes remind me vividly of Posey, my uncle Aris’s mate, which brings me a single, fleeting shred of comfort. Everyone loves Posey, even if she’s extraordinarily antisocial and awkward. Stella is neither of those things. “Did I make you uncomfortable, Luna?” she asks with a brief, almost shy smile that betrays the sharpness of her eyes. I stare at her coolly before going back to grinding herbs with a mortar and pestle. She is making me uncomfortable. No
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