LOGINWhen the moon binds Kyrian, a weak male omega, to Damon Torelli. The Alpha of the strongest and biggest pack in the West Blackwood Pack. An Alpha already bound by politics to a chosen Luna, everything goes wrong. Damon chooses power over fate and claims his chosen Luna. Rejected and broken, Kyrian must decide whether fate is a curse… or a path to becoming stronger than anyone ever expected. In a world where bonds rule lives, love must be chosen not forced.
View MoreKyrian did not wake angry, he woke up empty. Not the fragile kind of emptiness that trembled and begged and hoped. Not the hollow ache that once throbbed whenever Damon turned away, this was different. The suppression had burned through him like wildfire, stripped something raw from beneath his ribs and left behind scorched earth. The bond still existed faint, dulled, distant but it no longer clawed at him, It no longer reached and in that silence, something inside Kyrian shifted. He lay in his bed in the pack house, staring at the ceiling, listening to the subtle movements outside his door. Guards. Always guards now. Two stationed at the corridor entrance. One posted discreetly near the courtyard whenever Kyrian was permitted outside. The elders called it precaution but Kyrian called it surveillance. “You’re to report to Head Steward Mara in the morning,” the guard said stiffly. “Pack house staff rotation. Direct order.” Kyrian stood very still. “From the council?” he asked.
The healer arrived with the syringe already prepared. The council hall had gone unnaturally quiet after Kyrian’s acceptance of the verdict, the air thick with tension and something like dread. Elders remained seated, their faces rigid, while guards shifted uneasily along the walls. Damon stood motionless at the center of the chamber, jaw locked so tightly it ached, eyes fixed not on the council, not on Hannah, but on Kyrian. Kyrian stood straight, shoulders squared, expression carved from ice. The healer bowed once, shallow and formal, and stepped forward. In her hand was a long glass syringe filled with a viscous liquid that shimmered faintly under the torchlight. It was not a color Kyrian could name. Not quite silver. Not quite clear. It moved slowly, as if resisting itself. Kyrian felt his stomach tighten, but he did not step back. “This is the compound,” the healer said quietly. “It will not sever the bond immediately. It will weaken it in stages. If rejection is required lat
Kyrian woke choking.It was the first thing he felt before air, before light, before memory. A sharp, intrusive pull slammed into his chest like a hand fisting around his heart and squeezing hard enough to steal his breath. He gasped, fingers curling into the sheets beneath him, muscles locking as the connection surged awake with brutal insistence.There you are.The bond was not gentle.It never had been.Kyrian lay still, breathing through the spike of sensation as it settled into a familiar ache, heavy and omnipresent. Awareness pressed in from every direction. Distance. Direction. Damon. Always Damon. The Alpha’s presence loomed at the edge of Kyrian’s senses like a storm held back by sheer will. He could tell that Damon was close by and that he had been in this room, he could smell him heavy in the air.He hated that he could tell Damon was awake.He hated that he could tell Damon was close.Kyrian opened his eyes.The ceiling above him was not stone damp with mold, not low and o
Damon didn’t remember deciding to run.One moment he was on his knees beside Kyrian’s unmoving body, the next he was lifting him into his arms and tearing out of the cells like the world was ending behind him. “Move,” he snarled, dominance cracking like thunder through the corridors.Guards scattered. Doors flew open. Someone shouted for healers, voices blurring into noise as Damon took the stairs two at a time, Kyrian’s weight terrifyingly light against his chest.He didn’t slow until he reached the pack hospital. “Out of the way,” he barked, already laying Kyrian on the nearest bed.Healers flooded the room, hands glowing, scents sharp with urgency. Damon backed away only when they physically forced him to, his wolf pacing, clawing, howling in his skull.He’s not breathing right.He’s too still.This is my fault. Damon whispered. “Alpha,” one healer said carefully, “the bond…” “I don’t care,” Damon snapped. “Fix him.” They worked in tense silence. Minutes stretched into somethi
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