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Without thinking I shouted “Stop!” causing the cloaked person to sprint. “GUARDS!” I screeched, unable to mind-link members outside of my pack. Why was the entire fucking castle asleep! Sprinting after the cloaked figure I saw nobody else, no guards, not even a servant to help me catch the stranger. Arriving at the huge foyer of the castle, surrounded by flickering torches, hanging tapestries and miserable grey stone walls I had nothing to follow. They had vanished into thin air. All I knew from the build around the cloak was that they were a man, a man wearing long black trousers. Giving up the chase, I headed back to my room, flights of stairs, leading me to nothing but duplicating corridors of arched doorways, presumably student accommodation. The door to my parents’ suite remained open. “Papa?” I knocked softly to no answer. /Cillian, I am so sorry/ Vez said, realising before I did that my world had been knocked from its axis, shattered like porcelain. On the double bed, wrappe
I understood immediately why Papa never took us to many of these charades. Standing there in a pompous white shirt, on display like a prize pig at a fair I was happy to escape with Genevieve into the masses. I wasn’t so happy about Nikolai. We had only met briefly during a few childhood meetings but as a man he oozed anger and resentment. What for, I have no idea, but my sister and her wide eyes clearly thought it was the hottest thing she had ever seen. Silently, from my chosen distance, I watched his charisma overwhelm her, my own heckles rising. /She asked you to let her be an adult, to make her own choices/ Vez urged. Ever since first shifting and Vez came into my world it has been like having two fathers, both eager for me to prosper as Alpha. Our wolf fur was as red and fiery as my hair. I cringed, remembering how Jackson had laughingly called me the Infant Inferno, leaving me furious. Vez however, despite our fiery colour was sage, calming and fair. My papa tried to downpl
Having to walk in behind my parents I felt like a child amongst women. Despite the stunning dress, the styled hair and jewels I’d been given, the ballroom had a strange feel about it. I felt watched ,studied, but not in the usual way, like at home in Cragstone when crowds gathered. One person’s gaze had me flustered. The smell of burning spice made my eyes widen in fear, urgently seeking out the owner. As though we were in danger of attack, then I saw Nikolai Romanov. He headed up towards our little royal enclosure furtively, as though he was breaking in. He was just as entitled to be there as the rest of us and yet his fearsomely dark eyes were stuck on me. He offered no greetings to anyone else, not even his parents. My heart flipped, what do you do when someone looks so blatantly at you? He wasn’t undressing me with his eyes or anything crude like the silly Kharkov boys. Instead, he was seriously, steadily looking at me as a person. Almost the same age as me, already nineteen and
I know exactly why she is nervous. It’s not ideal and we’ve put it off for so long that it’s brought the formal gold bordered letter from Alexander to force our attendance. They are so young, the twins are barely even adults. If they find their mates tonight there it is more complicated than they realise. For Kharkov’s girls, or Lyon’s boys, when they make their match it will be a simple case of falling in love and finding a place to live and be happy together. Our children, should it be from a rival pack, will see alliances drawn up, decisions taken out of their hands as their parents become a tangle of wants and wishes. Should my beautiful, delicate little Genevieve be drawn in with that dark-haired lout Nikolai, what then? He is the future Alpha of White Forest, as Freya is to live in Rising Star. I would lose my darling girl. I know it is just the mindset of a scared father. I am a proud, happy man, terrified of nothing the world can throw at me. Except for damaging my family'
I gasped at the sight of our intruder. Cillian, my beautiful boy, had somehow transformed into a powerful, charismatic man, his white shirt open at the top showing the sculpted chest he inherited from his father. His coppery red hair had an even fierier tone than Ivan’s, almost sheer red, whilst his eyes had eventually turned blue like my own, despite starting green. He had a strong, masculine jaw and his figure had developed over the past year. He had trained like a beast with Kharkov and Jackson, as if preparing for his mate by getting into perfect shape. “Are we ready to do this parade then?” he grumbled, fiddling with his cufflink, the rasping depth of his manly voice still making me wistful even after years of it breaking. “How has a white shirt made you look this grown up,” I said softly, adjusting the collar of his shirt whilst he towered over me and his father. The squidgy faced little boy who hid behind my skirts clutching stacks of buns he had stolen from Martha was no m
** TWENTY YEARS LATER ** “I cannot believe it has truly been so long since we were last at White Forest,” I murmured, standing in the same suite we had used so many years ago. Back when I shouted at Helena and suggested she had failed Ivan. The four-poster bed and stained glass windows were unchanged. As if we had simply stepped back in time. The sight of the balcony, where I had once stood in only a black cloak for Ivan to devour under the pale blue moonlight made me smile and Halo purr in remembrance. “You are as amazing now as you were then,” Ivan murmured, approaching me with a grin. In his late forties he was getting somehow even more handsome with age. His hair remained the stunning copper beacon I looked for first in every room whilst his frame remained strong, tall and muscular. Although my heart had two other beacons to contend with in Genevieve and Cillian, Ivan’s strength was the tree which my roots had grown around. They had turned eighteen last winter, Ivan insiste