LOGINZaynBlake, Queen Maeve’s emissary and King of the Mystics, although he hates that title but hasn’t vocally admitted it yet, at least not to me, motions at me to follow him into a wide, spacious kitchen in his modern home on the outskirts of the city. I just arrived with precious cargo who could otherwise spirit from one side of our world to the other by simply snapping her fingers had she not gone against her parents’ commands, but I digress. She was, at least, quiet in the car, enraptured by a podcast about the sordid history of the ancient city of Rifthold, now a barren wasteland near the border of Tarsian and the Roguelands. I’ll remember that the next time she grows bored and starts using me as a paper airplane target again, which will likely be sometime tomorrow. “General,” Blake says in greeting, reaching into a smooth, pale wooden cabinet above a sink made entirely of copper. I know he designed this house from the bottom up. He talked about it often with Alex, the vampire w
FallonMaebelle Yarrows, the daughter of Alpha Yarrows of Diamond Ridge in Veiled Valley, stirs her bland, unsugared tea until it spills over the rim of the delicate, pale floral pink teacup I find myself slightly territorial over. It’s my favorite set, and her spoon clinking against the fine porcelain has my left eye twitching against my will, but I have a duty, and that duty is playing nice with fellow princesses, even if they’re grossly beneath my station and absolutely ridiculous, like Maebelle.She’s beautiful in a Veiled Valley sort of way–ethereally rustic. Her red hair is braided intricately through a tiara of gold and emerald that matches her gown and robe of green silk. She looks like a flower plucked from a mountain ridge.Her golden eyes are fixed to a shadow in the corner of the room, oblivious to everything else. A six-foot-six, two-hundred-and-fifty pound shadow that continues to haunt my every move, despite my gallant efforts to lead him astray.Maebelle blushes deeply
Book 19: Witch of the AlphaZayn“Good morning, Zayn.”“General Zayn. You look well.”“Zayn! Good morning! Have you eaten yet? There’s still breakfast left in the dining hall.”“General. Commander Abel has called a meeting at noon. I’m not sure you knew. Actually, I doubt you’re required to go based on your current post. Disregard–”“Zayn, how is your mother? Is she still at the temple?”Zayn. Zayn. Zayn.Early mornings in lower levels of the palace are always a rush of conversation and activity. It’s such a contrast to the quiet of the city beyond the palace walls, still asleep under a blanket of starlight and a cool, swift breeze drifting off the lake. Steam rises like plumes of mist around my shoulders while I sidestep through the main kitchen, carrying a crate the delivery boy forgot to bring in, dodging hands outstretched in good morning salutations–all the usual greetings.The spiderweb of servant hallways is just as crowded. Maids dart back and forth, carrying bundles of laundr
FallonThe humid weight of mid-summer beats down on my brow as I move through the garden, frowning at the twenty-foot wall shielding my view of the city of Moonrise–and the public's view of me. I crouch to pull a few weeds from the base of the hedgerow and dust my fingertips on the apron I stole off a hook in the servants’ hall just off the garden, twisting the rough fabric between my fingertips. I rise and move on to the thickets of mustard greens, ignoring the tomatoes because their leaves make my fingers green and itchy, and all the while, a tall, aggravating, annoying, pointless shadow follows my progress. I look up at the guard in royal garb–which includes a helmet and mask of iron–something I suppose was designed to look menacing, and it sure does. Sunlight glints off braids of iron and onyx covering his nose and mouth. His eyes are pools of the deepest black, even in direct light. His chest and arm guards are no different and likely weigh over a hundred pounds. I guess that’s
AlexToby 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
LoganBrie moves like the water, like a tree swaying in the wind, the most natural I’ve ever seen her. Her full, luscious curves are on achingly full display in the bikini she’s wearing, which does little to hide what… what I want to claim as mine. Her body, her mind, her soul… Even after spending
LoganI hit solid ground with a crunch that reverberates through my body, shocking me back to life. Dark stone and stained glass come into view, and it’s all familiar. We’re in Veiled Valley, in the castle.I blink, sucking in a breath, then curl to a seated position before swaying to my feet, my v
MaeveMy back hits soft, cream-colored carpet as the sitting room in my private apartment in the palace materializes. Gloves’s hand is still wrapped around my neck, but his grip is loose. His body is a dead weight pressing mine into the carpet. My vision blurs as pain like I’ve never felt before ca
BrieI pull the stool out from under my vanity, sinking down and facing Blake. I’m older than him by a few months. We’ve always been close, even when we were younger, and he tended to want to play rowdy boy games with Aris. He always sat quietly and played tea-party with me, though, without fail.







