LOGINSkyeFallon closes her bedroom door with a soft click and glides across the room to shut the curtains. She moves with the practiced grace of the princess she is–Maeve’s heir who will one day be Queen of Eastonia–and she looks like it, walks, and talks like it as well. But I know Fallon better than most. She’s an enigma–soft and stoic on the outside, but on the inside?She’s the most animated, opinionated woman I’ve ever known. “You cannot tell that bitch Naomi I’m telling you this.”“Your sister Naomi?” I arch a brow, chuckling, and she rolls her eyes to the gilded ceiling. “We’ve been on the outs recently.”“Over what?” I sink onto the edge of her rather regal bed. I’ve always liked Fallon. She’s six years younger than me but an old soul at heart, and for a while, it was just the three of us–her, Kieran, and me. We also grew up in Moonrise together, and that gave us a rather close bond. She was incredibly angry when I announced I’d be staying in Lunaria for the foreseeable future.
SkyeAn hour later, in the hazy, blue glow of morning, the stars are still on full display like always, but at their dimmest now. Alex follows me across the hallway to my condo. The university is at a standstill, and the tension pours through the thick concrete walls. I’m used to silence, but this is something else entirely. “Can you water my plants while I’m gone?” I ask with a touch of hesitation, looking up at him through my lashes while he leads the way to the loft where I mentioned I keep a suitcase. I watch his shoulder shrug through his soft gray shirt. His hair is mussed from lying in bed with me for the better part of an hour, and he radiates a new kind of warmth that’s hard to put into words. Alex is perplexing, but I knew that. Now, however? After being in the throes of passion with him? Having him touch me? It’s almost like his mind is split into factions all the time–hyper-focused on preservation. Now, he’s not wearing his usual masks. He’s looser, freer, and shockingl
Alex13 Years Ago…Emma grabs my trembling hands, turning them over to check for injuries I already know aren’t there. Beyond the blood-splattered stone walls, another battle rages, an endless swarm of bodies against the glow of torches and bonfires dappled over the countryside. Red velvet and tarnished armor scatter at my feet while my cousin sucks in a breath, her ocean blue eyes meeting mine. “What have you done?”“Go to the nearest clinic outpost and find a way home to Crimson Peak,” I urge, my voice trembling. Below, at our feet, dark, almost black blood pools around my shoes, spreading toward Emma’s boots. Tangles of platinum hair float in a crimson current.“Alex–”“Go. Now.” I grip her shoulders, squeezing tight, leaving bloody prints on her healer uniform. “Alex? Alex, what have you done!” Emma sobs as I push her out of the puddle of blood, her boots leaving sticky tracks across uneven cobblestone. An ancient temple in horrendous disrepair rises around us, blocking the rain
SkyeAlex moves us away from the couch, taking two steps to the side and pressing me against the smooth plaster wall. I breathe in his scent, closing my eyes against the sensation of his hands closing around my hips, his body flush to mine. It’s like the library but… better. We’re alone. There’re no wandering eyes, no whisper-hissed lead up to this–to this. His lips part over mine before he leans in to kiss me like this is the first time all over again. I make an involuntary sound–a moan, a noise I doubt I’ve ever made, and Alex sighs into the kiss, turning it from exploratory and measured to something wild and more passionate than anything I’ve ever experienced before. His hands travel up the curve of my waist until he clutches my ribs, his thumbs resting precariously near the slope of my breasts, which ache with an intensity I’m not prepared for in the slightest. I feel deliciously heavy. I feel… warm and out of control in a way that would normally have me spiraling, but now?He p
SkyeI sleep through the night and wake to the grainy red numbers on the clock on Alex’s bedside reading 8:43 A.M. I don’t normally sleep this late. I’m usually in my office by now, or in one of the lecture halls or research centers, but right now, I’m curled under a thick blanket that smells like Alex, resting my head on his pillow, watching the minutes tick by on his clock. When I slide out of his bed, the door to his bedroom is ajar, but not by much. I realize with a small squeak that I’m in my underwear and the sweater I wore yesterday, but in the same instant, I notice the sweatpants and sweatshirt resting on the edge of the bed, neatly folded, with a new, sticky bandage for my knee on top. So, this all really happened. It wasn’t a bad dream. I killed my great-grandfather. My beloved great-grandmother is dead. I lost my bracelet, am now a murderer, all things considered, and crash-landed in Alex’s condo when he had no idea I could spirit across an entire kingdom without so mu
Skye“Don’t move.”I suck in a sob and blink back tears. Alex crouches in front of me, his hands on my upper arms to steady me. I’m still kneeling when his apartment comes into full focus. I never gave it much thought when I woke up here in a drug-induced haze, but it’s a masculine, nearly identical layout to mine. He’s not fussy about his decor. Small knick-knacks rest on shelves, with more books than I have rocks, which is a feat, but that’s it. His scent is everywhere–clean and reassuring–familiar and… comforting. More comforting than I deserve. Strands of my hair stick to my tear-dampened cheeks. My eyes feel heavy and sore from crying. I stare at the space between us, at the shards of sharp glass reflecting the light of the aurora spilling through the windows and the soft amber haze of a floor lamp in the corner of the room, but then the glass darkens, turning inky and sticky with an oozing crimson liquid my mind doesn’t immediately comprehend. “I’m going to pick you up,” Alex
BlakeIt’s quiet in my office. The air is still and empty, scented with coffee and fresh ink. I move from my printer and sit at my desk, fanning through the papers I’ve just printed, which are still warm. The door leading to my suite opens with a squeak, revealing Marianna, who peeks her head in an
LexaLis clicks her tongue and fluffs the fabric of the impossibly massive ballgown that would look gorgeous on literally anyone else but me. The dress alone takes up my entire room at Kaleb’s house, so I’m at the pack house instead, stripped down to my undergarments while half a dozen Glade women
LexaKaleb lets go of my wrists, but I’m boneless as he draws a line down the column of my throat with his tongue. He’s kneeling on the bed with my legs splayed over his thighs. His massive, warm hands smooth up my legs, bunching the fabric of my gown until it’s pooled around my waist. Every moveme
LexaDays pass in a blur of pain, hunger, and little sleep. From the moment the stars begin to fade in the sky to the second the moon rises over the Glade, I’m in the sparring ring. Kaleb is always there, always watching, always discerning every movement in a cutting silence that I believe made it







