[Calyx] Rushing forward, I reach out to grab my mate before she plummets from the open balcony. My hands slip on the slick blood as I fail to grasp her fingertips, and then fail again when I reach for her nightgown. “ALEXIS!!!” I scream as she falls, my heart falling with her. So this is what it feels, the pain of watching someone you care about destroy themselves. I’m a monster and I deserve this pain. My mate does not. No matter what evils she may have done before knowing me, this is not how she should end. Especially since this is all my fault. I should have kidnapped her and gotten her the hell out of this place rather than use her for information to feed back to the Alpha King. I should have killed her Alpha mate with my own hands after the first night we met. And what did I offer her in return? Duplicity? Seduction? Weak promises and weaker offers wrapped in silken words and forbidden touches? Alexis is not a saint. She has done terrible things in her past, things that
[Araminta] [Now] The world that we have now, this nightmare we are all trapped within, was never part of the plan. Fifty years ago we were young and foolish, children playing at being adults, not realizing the depth of our consequences. It is easy to dream of a better future for everyone, but so much harder to execute. There is no such thing as utopia--One person's paradise can easily be another person's hell. We created Crescent City to be a shining utopia for supernaturals, a place of peace and prosperity. But it was built on the labor of witches and only those in power lived in true peace. Poor wolves, hybrids, humans and witches were all second-class citizens to the werewolves in charge. So Channing and I created Haven, and from the rift in the world we made in creating this sanctuary, other shadow towns were formed--places for witches, and our witch-born hybrids to live. But when we created these places, we were too strict. To keep them safe, we made them as places for only wi
[Araminta] [TWENTY-FIVE YEARS AGO] Ten years have passed since I last saw him, and yet, except for a few lines around his eyes and mouth, and a bit of gray at his temples, he seems unchanged. He’s still has devastatingly handsome as ever. And even though I burned his mark from my skin, I can still feel the connection that shouldn’t be there, the tie that binds us closer than any zing. We are mates. Fated mates. There is nothing that can take that truth away from us. It is late afternoon, but he is alone as he stands in the parking garage underneath the packhouse tower. As soon as he sees I’m not alone, he pauses to look at my daughter. Our daughter. “Hello,” Channing reaches out a hand towards Amy. “My name is Channing. Channing Greystone.” Amy looks up at me, confused. Giving her my best smile, I nudge her forward. “It’s okay, sweetie. He’s a friend.” Hesitantly, she places her small hand within his much larger one. I can see the moment of recognition flash through Channi
[Araminta] [Today] The streets are silent tonight in Crescent City. It’s a marvel that this place, this vision of Channing and his twin of a metropolis for the children of the moon nestled along the bay, is still standing. After the witches left with the formation of Haven it boomed, yes, but it had forgotten how to bloom. And now, what was left, is starting to crumble into ruin. First the rogues, drugged and deranged, ravaged the town, infecting the innocent too poor or too slow to escape. Then the humans came, and began sweeping the survivors off the street, processing them into those death camps. Now that the wolves are starting to fight back, and the new Alpha King has begun the process of resistance and healing, the humans have left our once shining city alone. They still overwhelm our kind with sheer numbers. But we have magic and a will to survive made even more powerful when balanced with a very simple and primal truth: We have nothing left to lose. “Look at the mess
[Araminta] [Two months later– Summer Solstice 35 years ago] Tomorrow morning is the solstice--a time of rebirth, when the world is ripe with possibilities. It's the\ perfect time to create something new. Everything is blooming, fruit is ripening, and the magic of creation is in the air. To create our new beginning, the witches are depending on the wolves. And this time their leader, Channing, is acting against the wishes of his people to give us witches a true chance at survival. We didn’t ask for this, but we didn't refuse when he offered. None of us coven leaders told our people either. What if it didn't work? What if something went wrong and everything was so much worse? In the end, we decided to take the risk. Although the biggest risk is to Channing and myself--if anything goes wrong, it would be our bodies, our souls, and our hearts at risk. To create a a casting as big as this one, it will require a connection so much deeper than finding your zing. It's a blending of souls
[Araminta] Once they recognize who they are facing, the rest of the young wolves scatter as if they had just been confronted with the scariest monster from their childhood nightmares. And I guess, in many ways, that’s exactly what they’re facing. Channing is an impressive sight. At almost 6’5” tall with broad shoulders and muscles honed in battle, even in civilian clothes he cuts an impressive figure. “I’m sorry about them,” he apologizes, removing a red silk handkerchief from his breast pocket. “Pups these days have no manners.”