Diana I narrow my eyes. He’s not lying—but he is holding back. Picking every word carefully. “So you think the witches are responsible for yesterday’s attacks?” Dom asks mildly, raising a brow. “Plenty would assume the same given the current climate. But that’s all it is—assumption. There’s no proof.” Simon nods. “You’re right. But you don’t understand.” He leans forward slightly, voice steady. “That man of mine who warned me… I pushed him. I wanted answers. But it wasn’t just reluctance—it was like he couldn’t speak. If I hadn’t known for certain he was rogue, I’d have thought an Alpha Commanded him to stay quiet.” His voice sharpens. “But he was rogue. And yet, he would’ve rather died than say more. That’s not loyalty. That’s fear. Control. You tell me, Alpha—what kind of power can make a rogue obey like that?” He sits back again, calm returning like a mask slipping into place. “That’s why I believe it’s them,” he says simply. “The witches. Who else could pull off somethin
Diana We step into the waiting room. It is tastefully decorated, soft lighting, sleek black leather seats arranged around a low coffee table. There’s even a tea station set up in the corner, though the refreshments remain untouched. My eyes land on the man already inside and I have to blink He’s nothing like what I imagined. I don’t know… I kind of pictured some massive, battle-worn werewolf with a harsh presence and a menacing aura. Instead, the man in front of me looks—well, normal. Neat. Almost pleasant. He’s tall but wiry, dressed in a charcoal suit that fits him too well to be off-the-rack. His brown shoes are polished to a shine, and his posture is straight but non-threatening. He is a rogue, yes. But I also feel something else clear as day—Beta. As soon as we walk in, he rises to his feet and flashes us a polite, almost too-bright smile. Then his gaze lands on Dominicus. And that smile falters. It’s subtle, but I see it—his pupils shrink and his face drains
Diana “What is their goal?” I hear Billy ask, echoing my thoughts. Dom answers, “I don’t know. But someone who will shed more light on the situation has just brought himself to us.” Billy’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, it looks like he’s going to insist on coming with us. But then his gaze shifts sideways—toward Emerald. The decision is instant. Quiet. But clear. “Ya’ll can go,” he says softly, though there’s clear reluctance in his voice. “Em and I are going to be busy today.” But I hear the unsaid words he truly wishes to say, ‘She doesn’t need to be part of any of this.’ I nod in complete understanding. I totally understand. Billy crouches slightly, placing a hand on Emerald’s back. “I’ll take you to check out the pack school first, is that alright?” That makes me blink. “School?” ‘Oh, right,’ I think to myself. She’s thirteen. Her age mates are in middle school right now– as she should be, not sitting through talks about rogue attacks and dark witches. Billy looks u
Diana “Wow,” he echoes, awe in his voice. “It’s beautiful. Makes your eyes pop.” “Thank you.” I grin, warmth creeping into my chest. Behind him, someone clears their throat. “Alright, enough hogging,” Eleanor says dryly. “Let me see her.” Billy chuckles. “Oh. Right, right.” He steps aside, still watching me with a grin as Eleanor approaches. Her perusal is nothing like Billy’s—it’s soft and slow and searching, her eyes faintly feel as if she’s looking past the surface. I subconsciously hold my breath. After what feels like forever, she finally nods. “You feel like Azrael now… not completely, but you’re nearly there.” A spark stirs in my chest. Azrael—the Alpha and Priest that Eleanor fought alongside. The one who sealed the Dark Mage. I swallow the lump in my throat. “Really?” and she nods. After the visions I had after the goddess touched me… I now have an even deeper understanding of what kind of person Azrael Castellanos was… And wow… I know Eleanor probably just mean
Diana It’s the early hours of the morning. The first soft light of dawn spills through the window. The world outside is still, quiet- peaceful. A sharp contrast to the picture inside our bedroom. Dom still hasn’t relented. His need for me is unending—relentless, consuming. He only pauses to press water to my lips, to whisper hoarse demands that I drink, that I rest—before he claims me again, as though every time he takes me, he’s trying to make up for every second we were apart. As if he’s trying to convince himself I’m truly here, alive, safe, his. His dark eyes as they stare at me is starved. Possessive. Worshipful. But also ruined. “You feel that?” he rasps, slams his hips forward- impaling my drenched core with his hardness as I desperately clutch the sheets beneath me, “That’s six days of hell, dulcis. Six days of not knowing if I’d ever feel you again, of not being able to sleep, not being able to eat. Six days of not being able to fucking breath.” I arch against him, hea
Diana Needing to breathe, I force my mouth away from his and lean my head back against the glass shower. My eyes roll to the back of my head as waves of euphoria wash over me. I am breathing wildly as Dom pushes into me again and again. Soon, I myself becoming just as feral. My body arches into him, attempting to assist in deeper thrusts. With my fingers still latched into his hair, I use that hold to shove my hips into his. Instead of feeling pain, Dom seems to enjoy it and snarls, a raw, almost inhuman sound as he pounds me hard. Both of his palms slid up to wrap around my hips and he begins to take control of my movements. Gripping my hips hard, he pulls me against him rapidly- screwing me brainless. “Yes”, I whine. “Yes… just like that...” His mouth crashes onto mine again. The steam rises around us, cloaking us in heat and shadows, but Dom is fire. He’s flame and fury and desperation. Soon, my moans turn into screams. "Ha- Harder," I rasp out in between thrusts