LOGINShare
12. In My Head, In My Bed
publish date:
2026-08-29 23:35:32
Latest chapter
The Boy Who Would Be Luna 17. Compulsion
TRISTAN'S POVMy will was not my own.I fought my body with every ounce of willpower, but it didn’t listen. Severin growled desperately inside my head, practically digging his paws into my gray matter and pulling back on my neurons, but they didn’t obey. Stiff-legged, I strode forward into the ballroom with my muscles so rigid from the strain of resistance my skin felt as if it would split.It was no use.My father had my flesh in command.Even if he would never own my soul.As one, every head in the room swiveled toward my father, instantly locking on their Alpha. But then thoughtful, glinting gazes traveled past him.To me.Wolves leaned into each other, whispering, questioning, my name suddenly flying surreptitiously and yet loud as a scream to my enhanced hearing. Even the slow, stately dances marking patterns across the ballroom floor faltered, stopped. Save for a besotted few who’d already found their one and stared at each other in utter absorption…those voices dripped with cur
The Boy Who Would Be Luna 16. What Shadows Keep
SLATE'S POVFor just one moment, Tristan consumed my senses entirely.Until a hatefully familiar voice sliced through the cloud surrounding me like a blade on fire, and I moved without thinking.“There you are. Do you plan to stay out here all night?”Clark.Instinct took over my body and slipped me away from Tristan, from Lucia—from the obsidian shard of a man who stepped through the ballroom entrance and into the foyer.First into the shadows near the entryway doors, letting the black envelop and swallow me. Lucia snapped from her focus on Tristan and, while the Morettis were locked on each other, tossed a confused, searching gaze about until it landed on my concealed and darkened corner.I rested one fingertip to my lips.Then vanished out the door faster than I’ve had to move in centuries, closing it soundlessly behind me before Clark Moretti even finished speaking.I flattened myself against the wall next to the large, arched ballroom double doors and dragged in huge breaths of i
The Boy Who Would Be Luna 15. Possession
TRISTAN'S POV“Mine.”I’d barely turned toward the scent of moonsbell when that one word hit me.Mine.Just one syllable, but it shot from his parted lips like a bullet and struck me in the chest.I bled heat, blooming and swelling behind my ribs.His gaze locked on me through the feral black barbs of his half-mask—a wicked devil’s face plated over his own, turning his mouth into pure scarlet sin. His waistcoat molded his thick bulk into trim sleekness, a fighter’s litheness, and every illusion I’d ever had that he was just a mild-mannered bartender died as the heat in his eyes devoured me with voracious intensity.Wild.Primitive.Something primal in his stare as it captured me, held me, dared me to delve into the glacial blue lakes of his eyes and discover what waited there.My heart beat like a thousand war drums. Severin was strangely quiet inside my head, as if something about Slate had captured him as well. Captured him, and turned him silent in submission to the bristling aggre
The Boy Who Would Be Luna 14. This Night, Tonight
SLATE'S POVI knew he would be there.I just didn’t think he’d be the first one I laid eyes on, the moment I walked in the door.Winter carried us into the foyer, past the crisply uniformed butler and into the small, intimately shadowed space preceding the ballroom. Lucia leaned on my arm with practiced, lazy indifference, her slight frame draped in regal white with silver tooling, her mask just white dove feathers with delicate silver accents. Miniature wings sprouted from the scooped back of her gown, applied in decorative white feathers just below her naked shoulder blades.She’d dressed me as the devil to her angel, showing up at my door while I was still sweating with the haze of lust to corral me into measurements, fittings, final costume design. A savagely elaborate black mask with red edging, turning my gaze into a deep glare. A trim black silk waistcoat caging a deep crimson button-down with flowing sleeves. Short drapes of black silk stitched at the shoulder blades of the wa
The Boy Who Would Be Luna 13. The Reluctant Prince
TRISTAN'S POVI’d never felt more ridiculous in my life.I lingered just behind one of the grand columns flanking the entrance to the Moretti estate ballroom—an enormous chamber that combined medieval-era stone construction with ethereal threads of gold and pinprick lights inside a dark room that, when the lights glittered off hundreds of sleek dresses and formfitting suits and sequined masks, looked like a dreamlike night had descended inside King Arthur’s court.The tiny golden string lights reflected off the mirror-polish sheen of the obsidian floor and cast every shape moving about into half-hidden shadows. Eager young wolves, from the lowest Omega to Delta warriors and the unranked masses, mingled amongst each other in their finest silks, velvets, cashmeres. A few swirled on the dance floor in graceful sweeps. Champagne glasses tinkled, making a softly melodic counterpart to the delicate waltz snaking under various threads of conversation.The scents of restrained pheromones chok
The Boy Who Would Be Luna 12. In My Head, In My Bed
SLATE'S POVI couldn’t sleep.Again.Not in this bed.For a million reasons I didn’t want to think about, and that wouldn’t leave me alone.I’d given up on getting any real rest by the time Lucia left on Friday afternoon. My bed still smelled like Tristan—and after Lucia had maneuvered me into servitude as her escort, I’d been too restless to bunk on the sofa for more than a fifteen-minute nap. I’d slogged into Link with dark circles under my eyes, ignored Mike’s tantrum over Tristan’s unpaid tab, slipped a few hundred extra into the till behind his back, and worked the bar like I wasn’t fiending for my bed like my next drug hit.From the tips bristling from my back pocket by the end of the night, I’d passed myself off well enough to human and wolf customers alike. I’d remembered my pour counts and to smile just so when they flirted, and that was all they cared about.That was all the hollow shell aliased Slate ever did.All they ever wanted him to do.Home in the wee hours of Saturda
You May Also Like
Loving Ms. Winters
Morgan Giglio36.6K viewsFalling, Fallen.
SSM26.1K viewsBlissful Hell
Catherine Pratt28.8K viewsThe Nerd DJ
YERB30.4K viewsSEDUCING THE ICE-COLD MAFIA BOSS
Josh Monteclaro520 viewsMy Best Friend's Fiancé is Fated my Fated Mate
Chris nkem149 viewsScent-enced to the Alpha’s Court
Cherry Blossom332 viewsHate On The Ice, Mine In The Dark
Kevin.M664 views
