A story told from both sides of the blade. Eleanore: My husband rode off to war with a kiss and a promise. Days later, I received news of his death and the name of his killer—Perseus, the ruthless Lycan King. Now, I'm his bride. A pawn traded for a treaty. They say power demands sacrifice. I say vengeance deserves patience. I won’t scream. I won’t break. And I sure as hell won’t fall in love with the monster who destroyed my world. He expects a Luna. He’s getting a storm in a black dress and a sword in his chest. Perseus: I killed her husband. She’ll remind me every day. I ripped her black wedding gown. She hasn’t forgiven me. I gave her my name. She threw my gift into the fire. But I see it in her eyes—the fire, the fury, the pain, the heartbreak all that I made her feel. And it calls to something ancient inside me. She wants to bury a sword in my chest. Joke’s on her—I already gave her my heart.
Lihat lebih banyakAurelialis, Fae Empire.Thomas flicked on the torch as he stepped through the portal, its harsh beam cutting through the dim glow of the Fae realm. With a heavy sigh, he swept the light across the sprawling empire of Aurelialis, its towering spires and twisting vines bathed in an eerie luminescence. The air hummed with magic, thick and cloying, pressing against his skin like an unwelcome touch. His gaze lingered on the scene before him, and a familiar weight settled in his chest. A memory surged forward—sharp, unbidden—a baby’s cry echoing in his mind, the child he had never held, only glimpsed through the cold window of the Fae Queen’s scrying portal. His jaw tightened. He blinked hard, forcing the image away, and resumed his march across the border. The torch flickered once before he switched it off, tossing it aside without a second thought. It clattered against the roots of an ancient tree, its purpose served. The Fae Queen’s letter had been clear—a summons, not a request. M
E L E A N O RMy fingers tighten around his wrist, holding him back before he can pull away. The muscles in his arm tense under my grip, but I don’t let go. “You don’t get to decide that.” My voice is rough, strained from the weight of everything left unsaid between us. “Eleanor, I need to do this. Please. For you... for your own good.” He sinks back down beside me, his hands enveloping mine, warm and steady. His touch is gentle, but his words are heavy, each one another reason why I should let him walk away. Why I should accept that this is the end. But I won’t. “I don’t want you making decisions for me,” I whisper, lifting my hand to cradle his face. His skin is warm beneath my palm, his breath uneven. “But I have to.” His voice cracks, raw with something desperate. “It’s so messy, Eleanor. It’s far deeper than you could ever think and—” “We’ll figure it out.” I cut him off, leaning in before he can finish. My lips press against his, soft at first, then firmer as I suc
E L E A N O RI can’t believe it. That he’d actually say those words to me. Here I am, pregnant with a child that could kill me—just like my mother—and he’s saying these things to me, just like my father did to her. It makes me sick. My mouth goes bitter, my stomach twisting into knots. I want to scream at him. I want to slap him hard enough to wipe that resigned look off his face. But then his voice trembles, and he’s staring at me like this isn’t something he wants to do, but something he thinks we have to do. What the hell am I even thinking? Keeping a child for my half-brother? A man I’m unfortunately married to? A dragon? How is this real? Were my visions true? Did Cassandra really have an affair with Thomas Black? The questions spin in my head, relentless, suffocating. “I don’t think I can keep up with this, Perseus.” The words slip out before I can stop them, but the weight inside me doesn’t lift. If anything, it only grows heavier. He steps closer, his hands trembling
E L E A N O RMy entire body trembles as I try to lower myself onto the bed. I reach for the stack of letters on the floor, but just as I begin gathering them, a wave of nausea hits me out of nowhere. My head tilts forward involuntarily, followed closely by a sharp, twisting pain in my stomach. I clutch my abdomen, a low groan slipping through my lips as I force myself to breathe evenly, trying to calm my nerves and find some kind of stability.Then it comes — a burning heat crawling up my spine, so intense it’s impossible to ignore. My mouth opens in a scream before I can stop it, and tears gather at the corners of my eyes. I don’t even realize how loud I was until Perseus bursts into the room, the door slamming shut behind him as he rushes toward me.“Eleanor! Eleanor, what’s going on? Are you alright?” he asks frantically, practically sliding across the room to reach me. His hands grip my shoulders gently, steadying me as he kneels in front of me, trying to meet my eyes.“I... I do
A U T H O R “Please help me,” Perseus said, the words barely leaving his throat as it cracked with panic. He held Asmodeus back by the arm, gripping it like it was the only thing keeping him upright. “She’s gone through a miscarriage before. I can’t do this to her again. I can’t. There has to be a way.” Asmodeus let out a slow, tired sigh, one that made Perseus’ heart pound faster. Then, without a word, he gently peeled Perseus’ hand off him and walked toward the window. He closed the blinds, sealing them inside a room that suddenly felt like it was shrinking with every second. “There’s more to your wife than you know, Perseus. A lot more,” Asmodeus said as he crossed over to the door of his stall and shut it with a quiet finality. “Things even I’m just beginning to uncover.” Perseus dropped onto one of the stools at the counter, his eyes locked on Asmodeus, bloodshot and burning from everything he had seen, everything he feared. He felt like he was unraveling slowly—no, not slowly
E L E A N O RMy head is pounding—loud, steady thuds against the inside of my skull—as I slowly rise from the bed. The room is quiet. Empty. But the faint smell of herbs still lingers in the air, earthy and sharp. My eyes fall on the small bundle of dried leaves and roots neatly arranged on the bedside table. Jeremiah was here. I must have been out cold for hours, maybe longer.Next to the herbs, I notice the cloth I had used to wrap the box from my mother’s studio. It's still sitting exactly where I left it. Untouched.A different scent drifts toward me—familiar, subtle, but unmistakable.Perseus.He’s been here. Recently too. I inhale sharply, holding onto the scent like it's proof that he still cares, that he still sees me. But then the guilt creeps in, crawling up my spine and settling heavy in my chest. He’s still ignoring me. Not a word. Not a glance. Not a single explanation. And I’m just here… waiting.How long before he
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