I swallowed, my heart hammering against my ribs. Jake’s words echoed in my head. Damien doesn’t share. But as I looked into Damien’s dark, burning eyes, as I felt the heat of his touch… was something real My POV The moment they stepped into Damien’s penthouse, the air between Sofia and Damien crackled with an intensity that was impossible to ignore. The kiss in the car had been a prelude, a simmering heat that now threatened to boil over. Sofia’s heart pounded in her chest as Damien closed the door behind them, the quiet click of the lock echoing like a gunshot in the silence. She turned to face him, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Damien’s dark eyes bore into hers, his expression unreadable yet brimming with something primal. He took a step toward her, his tailored suit hugging his broad shoulders, the scent of sandalwood and danger enveloping her like a cloak. “Damien,” she whispered, her voice trembling. What am I doing? she thought, but the question was drowned out by
Sofia's POV Morning After Regret… or Something Else? The first thing I felt was warmth. The second thing? Damien. His arm was still draped over my waist, his body pressed against mine like he wasn’t ready to let go. And for a second, just a second, I let myself sink into it—the feeling of waking up next to him, his steady breaths against my skin, the weight of his presence grounding me in a way that should have felt foreign but didn’t. Then, he moved. Damien let out a low exhale, his body tensing before he finally blinked awake. His amber eyes locked onto mine, and for a fleeting moment, I saw something unguarded there—something real. Then, like clockwork, the walls came up. His body stiffened. His jaw clenched. And before I could say a word, he pulled away, running a hand through his messy hair like he was already regretting every second of last night. "This… can’t happen again," he muttered, voice rough with something unreadable. A sharp pang hit my chest, but I ignored it
Awakening The city stretched endlessly before me, lights flickering like scattered stars. The cool breeze brushed against my skin, but it didn’t ground me. If anything, it heightened everything—every sound, every shift in the air, every heartbeat, especially his. I didn’t know when the changes started, but they were impossible to ignore now. I could hear Damien moving inside, the faintest sound of his footsteps way too clear to be normal. I could smell him—earthy, dark, undeniably him—even though he was nowhere near me. Something was happening to me. And I knew, deep down, that it had everything to do with him. "You’re quiet tonight." I turned, finding Damien leaning against the glass door. The moonlight made him look sharper, deadlier. His shirt was undone at the collar, sleeves pushed up, tattoos winding around his forearms like inked secrets. He looked dangerous. And I hated how much I wanted him. "Just… thinking," I said, my voice softer than I intended. He stepped closer,
The world was drenched in red. The field stretched endlessly, glowing under the eerie light of a blood moon. The grass beneath my feet was damp—darkened with something thick and unholy. The silence was suffocating, pressing in on all sides. And then… A whisper. It floated through the air, barely audible at first. But as it grew louder, I realized something chilling. I knew this voice. "You were never meant to survive this." A shiver ran down my spine. I turned slowly, my heart hammering against my ribs. The field was empty, stretching for miles. But I felt it. A presence. Watching. Waiting. Then, at the very edge of the horizon—a figure. Cloaked in shadows, shifting, curling, alive. It had no face, no features. And yet, I felt its gaze pierce through me, cold and knowing. I tried to move. Run. But my body refused to listen. "You are the key to unlocking everything… but keys can lock as well as open." The voice slithered around me, wrapping itself around my throat like a no
my POV The air in the warehouse was thick with tension, the scent of fear and adrenaline mingling with the metallic tang of weapons. Damien’s massive, wolf-like form loomed over the hunters, his golden eyes blazing with fury. Sofia stood by his side, her heart racing but her resolve unshaken. She could feel the weight of Jake’s gaze on her, his obsession now boiling over into something darker, more volatile. “You think you can protect her?, just because you got married to her?” Jake sneered, his voice dripping with malice. “She’s not yours to save, Damien. She’s mine, I only made a mistake once , but I will do whatever it takes to get her back.” Sofia’s stomach churned at the words, but she refused to let Jake see her falter. She took a step forward, her Louboutins clicking sharply against the concrete floor. “I’m not anyone’s property, Jake,” she said, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. “You lost any claim to me the moment you betrayed me.” Jake’s smir
Her breath caught, her pulse hammering against her ribs. She pressed a hand to her mark, as if she could silence whatever was stirring beneath her skin. The sensation was fleeting, gone as quickly as it came, but it left behind an unsettling emptiness—as though something had just awoken inside her and was waiting for the right moment to take hold. She shook her head, pushing the thought away. This was exhaustion, stress—nothing more. At least, that’s what she told herself. The drive to Damien’s ancestral home was silent, heavy with unspoken thoughts. The further they traveled, the deeper they ventured into unfamiliar territory. The towering city skyline faded into the distance, swallowed by dense, ancient woods that stretched endlessly in every direction. And then, it appeared. Damien’s ancestral home loomed before them, an imposing structure of dark stone and ivy that seemed to breathe with the history of his kind. The air was thick with the scent of pine and earth, the fores
The door creaked open wider, and Jake stepped into his ancestral home , his cold, mocking smile illuminated by the faint glow of the symbols carved into the room. Damien moved instinctively, placing himself between Sofia and Jake, his body taut with tension, like a predator ready to pounce. "Well, well well," Jake drawled, his eyes flicking between Sofia perched on the desk and Damien standing protectively in front of her. "I thought you'd moved on, Sofia, but I didn't realize you were this eager to replace me." "What the hell are you doing here, Jake, are you stalking sofia?" Damien's voice was low and dangerous, his golden eyes starting to gleam with the telltale light of his wolf. Jake ignored him. He locked his gaze on Sofia. "You've changed," he said, his tone shifting from mockery to something almost reverent. "I can feel it. Whatever he's done to you, it's starting, isn't it?" Sofia swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the desk to steady herself. "You don't know what
“I knew you’d try something,” he said, his voice a growl. Sofia’s heart sank as he stepped closer, his claws flexing. “Jake, please, let me go” “Don’t,” he snapped, his eyes glowing with anger. “Don’t make me hurt you.” “You don’t have to do this,” she said, her voice trembling. “You can let me go. We can end this.” Jake laughed bitterly. “You think it’s that simple? You think I can just let you walk away? You don’t get it, Sofia. I’ve already sacrificed everything for you. My humanity. My soul. You’re all I have left. Jake looked away, his shoulders slumping. “My sister. She... she looked just like you. She was strong, like you. She never gave up, even when the world tried to break her. And I couldn’t save her. I let her die, Sofia. But I won’t let that happen to you.”
The relentless twilight of the 'Wolf Born Twice' reality began to fray at the edges. The sharp scents of pine and blood softened, the perpetual chill lessened, and the oppressive shadows receded. It wasn’t a sudden transition, but a gradual melting, like frost under a hesitant sun.Sofia felt the change, a subtle shift in the fabric of this dreamscape. She was still the predator, vigilant and detached, the cold logic of survival dictating her every instinct. But a different sensation was bleeding in – a warmth, a pull, a persistent, gentle pressure she had been ruthlessly pushing away.Let go, Sofia. The voice was Lyra’s, no longer distant and pleading, but closer, clearer, imbued with a quiet strength. Let go of the fight. Not the one out there, but the one within you. Come back to the in-between.The 'in-between'. The place she had visited before, a liminal space connecting her conscious mind, her wolf, and the deeper currents of her being. It felt… safer than the twilight world. Le
The biting wind whipped around Damien and Kieran as they descended the worn stone steps into the ancestral crypts beneath the pack house. The air grew colder with each step, thick with the scent of damp earth and something else – something ancient and heavy, the accumulated presence of generations of wolves laid to rest. This wasn't merely a burial site; it was a reservoir of lineage, of history, of secrets best left undisturbed.But secrets were exactly what they needed.After Draven Thorne's chilling message, Damien’s focus had shifted. Protecting Sofia from this external threat was paramount, but he couldn’t fight blindly. They needed to understand the Blackwood curse, its true nature, and its connection to The Hollow Order and this terrifying figure, Thorne. Kieran’s frantic research had unearthed fragmented mentions of Elias Blackwood, a figure shrouded in mystery at the very genesis of the curse, and the possibility of contacting ancestral spirits bound to powerful bloodlines.“
Damien stood by the infirmary window, the first weak light of dawn painting the sky in hesitant greys and pinks. Sleep was a luxury he couldn’t afford. The image of Sofia’s still form, the echo of Kieran’s devastating words about the Blackwood curse and its terrible solutions, were etched into his mind. He had refused the grim options presented, choosing instead the impossible path: to find a way to reach Sofia, to pull her back from whatever twilight realm held her, and face the curse together.A sharp rap on the door shattered the fragile quiet. Kieran entered, his face even more strained than before, if that were possible.“Alpha,” he said, his voice tight. “We have a problem. Another one.”Damien turned, his jaw set. “More Hollow Order?”Kieran nodded, but his eyes held a different kind of dread. “Yes. But… not just a sigil this time. It’s… a statement.”“Where?”“Just outside the western border. The Creekside Pack.”Damien’s eyes narrowed. The Creekside Pack. A small, quiet group
back in reality The sterile scent of the infirmary chafed at Damien’s senses. He sat beside Sofia’s bed, his hand holding hers. It was slack and unresponsive in his grasp. Her breathing was shallow, her face pale and drawn. She hadn’t stirred since collapsing hours ago, after the invisible struggle that had wracked her form, leaving her locked within whatever twisted reality her mind now inhabited. He remembered the look in her eyes just before they fluttered closed – distant, cold, utterly unlike his Sofia.Lyra, usually a comforting presence, was silent within him, a dull ache where fierce protectiveness should have been. It was as if even his wolf was reeling from whatever had happened inside Sofia’s dreamscape.A soft knock preceded Kieran’s entry. He looked even more weary than he had earlier, dark circles under his eyes, ancient scrolls clutched in one hand. He moved quietly, stopping respectfully a few feet from the bed.“Any change, Alpha?” Kieran’s voice was low, filled with
The world was a canvas of perpetual twilight, painted in hues of bruised purple and blood-red. Sofia didn’t walk; she stalked. The ground beneath her boots was hard-packed earth, stained dark in places that still smelled faintly of iron. The air was cold, carrying the scent of pine and something sharp and acrid – fear.She moved with a predator’s grace, silent and efficient. Every muscle was coiled, ready to strike or vanish. Her senses were honed to a razor’s edge. The rustle of leaves wasn’t just wind; it was a potential ambush. The snapped twig wasn’t just nature; it was an intruder. This wasn’t the soft, familiar world of the pack house, or the vibrant, sunlit forest she knew. This was a battlefield, a hunting ground, a place where the weak were consumed.Her hand rested habitually on the hilt of the blade strapped to her thigh. The metal was cold, worn smooth by countless grips. It felt right, an extension of her will. Her clothes were practical, dark leather and sturdy cloth, de
The heavy oak door of Damien’s study burst open, slamming against the wall with a force that rattled the framed maps on the opposite side. Damien looked up from the reports on his desk, his eyes narrowing as Kieran Ash stumbled in, his usual composed demeanor replaced by a frantic urgency. Dust and what looked suspiciously like dried blood smudged his worn leather armor.“Kieran! What in the name of the Goddess happened?” Damien’s voice was sharp, immediately on alert. He rose, circling the desk.Kieran leaned against the doorframe, breathing heavily, his gaze wild. “No time for pleasantries, Alpha. It’s happening again.”“What is? Spill it,” Damien demanded, reaching for the hunting knife habitually sheathed at his belt.“The killings,” Kieran choked out, pushing off the frame. He crossed the room in a few strides, his eyes locking onto Damien’s. “Across the border territories. Three packs hit in two nights. Brutal. No survivors left to talk.”Damien’s jaw tightened. He’d heard whisp
(Damien’s POV – Present Day)The blood on the floor had long since dried. The candles flickered as if they feared what we were about to do.Lyra stood at the center of the chamber barefoot, her cloak discarded, her runes fully exposed across her arms and collarbone. Her breathing was shallow, but her gaze had steadied. Focused.“This is not a spell,” she said, voice low. “It’s a bridge. Once we begin, I won’t control where you go. The memories will pull you toward the piece of her soul that still remembers you.”“And if it doesn’t?” I asked.She looked at me with those storm-gray eyes. “Then you’ll wander her past until your spirit forgets who it was.”I didn’t flinch.“If there’s a part of her that still remembers me,” I murmured, stepping closer, “that’s all I need.”Lyra knelt beside the basin of now-consecrated blood. She whispered an ancient chant, tracing her fingers in precise patterns above the surface. The blood began to glow faintly, pulsing—like it was responding to my hear
(Damien’s POV – Present Day)The moon was barely more than a sickle of light in the sky. Clouds churned over the forest, and the air was heavy—too quiet, too still. The trees whispered warnings in a language only the cursed could understand.I hadn’t planned to return to the ritual site tonight.But something—a pull—dragged me here.The clearing still bore the markings of the ceremony that broke me. The silver runes carved into stone still shimmered faintly, and the scent of magic hung in the air like cold smoke.I stepped into the circle.And stopped.Someone was there.A body.A woman.She lay curled at the edge of the stones, half-covered in leaves, her skin dusted with blood and soil. A torn cloak clung to her frame, silver thread stitched into its seams—ancient symbols I hadn’t seen in centuries.I rushed to her side.She wasn’t a rogue. Her scent was strange, like rain and stardust. Not of this land.Her breathing was shallow. Her skin ice-cold.But then, her lips parted.And in
(Damien’s POV – Three Moons Without Her)Time moved differently without her.Slower.Heavier.Like the minutes were dragging their feet through wet concrete.Three days had passed since the ritual.Since I bound my name to another woman to deceive ancient spirits.Since I whispered goodbye into the ear of the only woman who ever made this cursed blood of mine feel worthy.I still felt her breath on my neck.Still caught her scent in the folds of the sheets.Still expected her to walk barefoot into the kitchen every morning with a sleepy smirk, teasing me about my obsessions.But she didn’t.And she wouldn’t.Not for three moons.And I was starting to forget how to breathe without her.---The penthouse was too quiet.I left it behind after the second day.I couldn’t walk into that room without hearing the machines beeping beside her bed. Without seeing the imprint of her body on the pillow. Without smelling cinnamon and honey on the linens.So I returned to the Blackwood manor—a place