LOGINAlexToby braces his hands on either side of the bundle of blue fabric on my bed, tilting his head and squinting at the little fist reaching through the folds of a baby blanket. “Was he born with fangs?” He reaches like he’s about to stick his filthy fingers in my son’s mouth. I swat his hand away. “No, of course not. He’s a baby.”“Babies can have teeth. Don’t–don’t look at me like that, Alex. They can. Look it up. It’s rather terrifying.”Lucan starts to whimper, flailing until he loosens the blanket. Toby winces and backs away, allowing me to scoop Luc up and tuck him in my arm, giving my friend a better view of the newborn who was born only two weeks ago. “Wow. He looks like Skye.”“He does, doesn’t he? That’s exactly what I thought when I saw him for the first time.” Actually, I was thinking a million things during a horrific twelve-hour labor that Skye breezed through while I crumbled, her face set in silent determination. I’ve truly never met another woman like her. Once she
SkyeFive months later…My office at the University of Moonrise is in a spire overlooking the back half of the sprawling, ancient city of gold and the lake, which shines a deep turquoise in the mid-summer sun. I juggle several books as I move like a snail up another spiraling staircase, pausing several times to catch my breath and wave away the curious, concerned looks and pleas to help that my fellows throw in my direction. I’m due at the end of the week, and while joining the university as a fellow and researcher with plans to start lecturing again next year has been the best kind of distraction, this pregnancy has been awful, and I am so ready to be done. It’s been a marathon, and I’m not a runner by any means. Lately, I've been desperate to shift, but I’m too far along to risk that now. So, I walk around the lake. I hike up and down the staircases in the palace, where I’ve recently taken a suite at Kenna’s urging because, according to her, I could give birth any day, and it feels
SkyeTwo more weeks pass in a blur. At first, it seemed like a hundred years. I was constantly poked and prodded and wasn’t deemed healed enough naturally to have Misty and Kenna step back in with their magic, but finally, the morning came when I managed to swallow without pain, and the rush to heal me completely returned with fervor. Misty arrived, working her magic, sewing me together from the inside out. Kenna managed the baby, keeping whoever this tiny person growing inside of me is safe, but I wasn’t out of the woods yet. The worst thing about this recovery was the sharp and violent return of my pregnancy symptoms. I traded being bedridden with a catastrophic injury for being bedridden with nausea so severe that I lost ten pounds in a matter of days. Alex was amazing through all of it, but I know conversations were being had in the background about the ability of me returning to Lunaria, because right now, it doesn’t seem like an option. And, this morning, the option to return
SkyeIt is not, in fact, all over. “What?” I croak while Mom aggressively fluffs my pillows and settles me upright in my bed. I was right–I’m in my old room in my parents’ house in Moonrise. Thick, impenetrable curtains hang from my windows, blocking out ninety percent of the sunlight, only allowing strips that Alex seems to walk through without any issues. I don’t remember anything, save for the first moments of the attack and glimmers of hazy images of my dad’s office before it all grows black and blurry. “The Alpha of Aurorium wants someone to take the fall for the murders,” Maeve, who spirited into the room ten minutes ago, explains with overt annoyance. She’s perched on the edge of my bed, dressed casually in a dark red sweater and matching pants, with her extraordinarily thick brown hair piled messily on top of her head. Kenna left the room twenty minutes ago. To do what, I have no idea, but Alex remains, pacing and tapping his fingertips on his chin while watching every brea
SkyeI’m dead. I must be because I open my eyes to grainy sunlight highlighting a room I’d be able to see fully in the dark. I know this shallow, cream-colored carpet. I know there’s a bright purple nail polish stain in the corner of the walk-in closet on the far side of the room, hidden beneath a stack of boxes. I doubt my parents know it’s there. There’re three windows along the wall–circular and wide. My grandma Leona fussed so much over the fact that Dad designed windows no one could make curtains for, and by some miracle, she managed it herself. But the curtains in my childhood bedroom aren’t… familiar. They’re different. Thick and black, they block out the majority of the light, only letting fractals of what I believe is the sunset through. Am I in hell? Is this what it looks like? Being thrust back into my awkward teenage years? I fist the comforter–velvet corduroy–my favorite. I turn my head away from the strip of light flickering over the room and watch speckles play acros
AlexBlake looks at me for a long, long time. His stare is exactly like Skye’s–unyielding, expectant, and unnaturally violet. She wasn’t wrong about that. I’m the one who breaks from his gaze to look down at my filthy hands. They’re caked in Kai’s and Skye’s blood. It doesn’t feel like enough. Ripping him into sections before tearing his head clean off his shoulders doesn’t feel like enough. I curl my hands into fists. The woman, the queen, which is the only person she can be, cautiously moves around the desk in my direction. “Skye’s pregnant?” She’s just as beautiful as Skye described, with thick, dark brown hair and sea-green eyes that swirl with power I can taste. The other man, the one who kindly shut the curtains to shield me from the spray of sunlight ghosting through the clouds, does not move to stop the woman who is, obviously, based on their mingled scents, his mate. She is in charge. But she’s not nearly as powerful as Skye’s father. That’s really, really fucking clear.
*Isla*The stadium is nearly silent as we watch Keenan’s wolf circle around Elijah’s limp body. My blood rushes in my ears as my heart races. Maddox is holding my hand, squeezing, as we cling to the railing and watch in horror as Keenan begins to approach the royal box, his head held high. Maddox’s w
*Maddy*I can’t understand a word these people are saying. I sit in on a bench in a large kitchen, a cup of hot tea with milk and honey in my trembling hands. King Isaac is arguing with the copper haired man, a shade a few lighter than my own. I recognize him from the day Reginald dragged me here. Th
*Isla*I roll my lower lip between my teeth as Maddox paces the deck. Nothing about this situation is good. Nothing about this situation is clear, either, and none of us have been able to get a hold of anyone on Maatua in two full days. Whispers of unrest on Maatua had been coming to us for months no
Three Years Later…*Maddy*The floorboards have never been cleaner, and my hands have never been more raw. Soapy water soaks through my leggings as I kneel, wringing out my sponge in a bucket of water. The chalet needs work, at least my stepmother says so every chance she gets. The cracks in the ancie







