She ran from the monster she saw in him. But what if the real danger was yet to be unleashed? Trigger Warning: This book contains morally gray werewolves, aggressive mate bonds, and a love interest who doesn’t understand the concept of personal space. Forced intimacy? Physical, magical, boy on girl, girl on girl... Dubious consent? Why stop at the MMC? If you like your romance with a side of "this is probably a red flag," proceed with caution (and maybe a glass of wine). A fantasy adventure steeped in dark romance, where a haunted warrior may be the submissive heroine’s greatest protector—or her ruin. She ran from him once, but fate, magic, and desire dragged her back. He destroyed her life, and now, with the future of the world at stake, he can’t trust himself not to destroy her again. CHAPTER PREVIEW: Lyra swallowed hard, her throat dry, but the words escaped her lips before she could stop them. “I’m a reject,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “The man who was supposed to be my mate chose my sister instead.” His palms slammed the wall beside her head as his roar blew the hair out of her face. Lyra flinched, recoiling. His growl deepened, reverberating through the small space. “Whoever rejected you is irrelevant,” he snarled, his voice dripping with finality. “You. Belong. To me.”
View MoreElysia
Every witch, no matter their origin, carries the marks of their craft; glowing eyes, hair flowing like a waterfall, and porcelain skin. Deep in Mount Everstrike’s belly, the Matriarchs of all Covenkind circled the cavern’s hollow. The pure power that flowed through them intensified these witches’ magical features. Their eyes lit the darkness, dispelling the need for torches.
A single woman stood in the center. Her ebony hair hung around her heart shaped face, obscuring her ocean blue eyes. Her shoulders slumped as she stared at the ground. Elysia stood on trial and she knew there was only one way it could end.
Sabel waved her hand dismissively. "Seriously?" she scoffed. "You expect me to see our beloved sister—" Pointing at Elysia, her voice rose in disbelief. "—as a villain?"
Indistinct voices murmured among the women as they scrutinized her with a variety of expressions ranging from pity to accusation. Elysia fought the urge to call out to them for compassion. She could beg them to remember their shared memories, all that they knew of her. She wouldn’t have done what they accuse without good reason. But after what she had done, they would never understand.
Marona’s voice trembled like a leaf caught in a breeze. "Of course we are. The luna stone… its light is gone. Snuffed out." Her voice quivered, weakened by years of doubt, silver-streaked hair falling like a curtain around her wrinkled cheeks. "We… we’re exposed without the talisman."
Elysia wrapped her arms around her tightening chest. They thought the stone destroyed. If only it were that simple… The Moon Goddess had come to her, her words carrying on the wind through the night. And she knew she had no choice. She had to protect her daughter, her husband, and the rest of the world.
And for her faithfulness, she would never see her daughter or her husband again. Would lyra grow up thinking her mother had abandoned her? The questions she imagined her daughter asking tore at her: Why didn’t you stay? All she had done, every sacrifice, had been for lyra—for a future Elysia would never live to see. And the truth would be lost to time.
May the goddess watch over you, my sweet daughter, for you carry our hopes and dreams. She prayed silently.
"You betrayed us," Cassandra’s red glare matched the condemnation in her tone. "Don’t you know what’s coming? What we’ve all been keeping at bay?"
Elysia knew. She had been preparing the defenses with them. Had seen the darkness amassing on the horizon. The end was drawing near, the prophecy’s signs unfolding one by one.
“The moon goddess commanded.” Elysia spoke with conviction. “I only obeyed.”
Steely gazes locked onto her, jealousy and blame bearing into her. Cassandra’s growl trembled through the rocks of the cavern.
“You still betrayed us!” Calyne snarled, her usually composed demeanor lost in a fiery storm. “Your excuses do not matter!”
She stomped up to Elysia, fists ready to strike. Calyne’s fury pulsed through her veins, her wild curls like a fiery halo. Elysia didn’t move. She would take their anger, their abuse if it kept her baby safe.
Tears in her eyes, she whispered, “The stone’s time is over. The world will have to survive what comes next.”
A sudden chill swept through the room as two glowing purple eyes pierced the gloom. Vespera stepped forward, centuries of magical mastery bending the years around her. Her voluptuous form swayed beneath robes of utter black.
Vespera’s serene, cruel smile carried into her response. “You have broken the natural order, Elysia. Do you understand what that means?”
Elysia nodded.
“Do not think we are the only ones watching.” Vespera continued, cool as ice. “They will come for us now. We cannot afford mercy. You should have known better."
Elysia’s mind screamed in turmoil but she remained still as stone. She refused to look away, as if meeting Vespera’s scrutiny could ward off her fate.
Vespera never wavered, motioning toward the guards. “Seize her.” Her finality settling over Elysia like a thick, stifling fog. “Take her to the cells. We will decide what to do with her soon.”
The sour taste of consequences rose in Elysia’s mouth. Lyra. A future of missed moments and unshared milestones. Her daughter would grow up without her and it splintered her heart. Would Lyra even remember her embrace?
The price of love, Elysia thought, sighing with mournful resignation.The guards grabbed her. As they dragged her away, she wondered if her husband would ever understand what had happened. The question left a blistering ache deep within her.
Forgive me, my loves, she silently pleaded. I’m not coming home. Grow happy and strong, my precious child. The sound of their laughter, and the warmth of their love would remain with her until the end.
The doors slammed shut behind her with a deafening thud, an unseen harbinger encroached ever closer. The world bent to forces no mortal could predict. A certainty sank into her gut: there was no turning back. The darkness would come, and this time, there would be no stone to hold it at bay.
LyraThe ride stretched on for the better part of the day, the steady rhythm of hooves against the earth a distant hum beneath their conversation. The forest behind them thinned into dry scrub, the scent of pine giving way to dust and sunbaked stone. Grass grew sparse. The air thickened with heat. In this desert, the land shed its vibrant green skin, surrendering to shades of ochre and gold.But as they crossed the invisible threshold marking the edge of Veyron’s domain, Lyra felt… lighter. The grip of his territorial magic released her like a breath she didn’t know she was holding.Yet Vespera’s magic still itched beneath her skin like a fever, her body betraying her with a thrum of desire any time her mind strayed too close to him, or she found herself the center of attention. Every bump in the road made her thighs clench tighter, her face hotter, her patience thinner. Yet, she tried to focus on Daphne’s teachings.“The more influential a werewolf is, the more land they can hold,”
LyraWarmth. That was the first thing Lyra noticed as she drifted toward wakefulness, a pleasant heat cocooning her against the chill of the morning air. Then came the slow, steady rise and fall of breath—not hers. The rhythmic motion rocked her slightly, comforting in a way that sent her sinking deeper into the warmth before realization struck her like a bolt of lightning.Her eyes snapped open, and she stiffened.Oh gods.She was curled against Rivenn, his arm draped lazily over her waist, their legs tangled as if they’d spent the entire night like this. Her cheek on his chest, his steady heartbeat thrummed beneath her skin.What happened last night?Flashes of hazy memories surfaced—the warmth of the fire, the way the liquor had made her dizzy and giggly, the laughter that had bubbled up so freely. She remembered the taste of Brann’s awful liquor, the way they had cheered her on. But had something happened with Rivenn?Her gaze darted around the campsite, taking in the disarray.Da
VeyronVeyron stalked through the woods, his steps heavy, controlled, yet aimless. He didn’t know where he was going—only that he needed to move. To breathe. To get away from the sight of Rivenn’s hands on her, the sound of her laughter mixing with Brann’s deep, rumbling voice.His jaw ached from clenching it so hard. She’s laughing with them. The gate murmured. At us.His fists clenched, nails biting into his palms. A rustle behind him had him slowing, scenting who it was before she spoke.“You good, Veyron?” Eryssa’s voice was calm, but her eyes took him in with quiet scrutiny.He exhaled through his nose. “Just taking a damn piss.”She quirked a brow but didn’t push. “Right.”Another set of footsteps approached, and Veyron tensed as Delvin stepped into view.They know why you’re here. Eryx warned, low and wary. They know you’re upset over the girl. They’ve come to check on you—like a damn pup.Veyron sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. Delvin slung an arm around his shoulder. “Y
LyraLyra turned to Brann, flashing him a playful smile. “So, Brann, tell me—are all warriors as fearless as you, or are you just special?”Brann, caught mid-drink, nearly choked on his ale. “I—I suppose I’m just special?”Rivenn barked out a laugh. Across the fire, Veyron finally looked up.His eyes flashed feral, his muscles coiling with restraint. She smiled, letting her fingers graze Brann’s arm, a bolt of heat shot through her at the contact. If Veyron wanted distance, she would give it to him. But she wasn’t about to disappear into the shadows.Veyron abruptly stood. His shoulders rigid as he stalked away from the fire, disappearing into the darkness beyond its glow. Silence fell over the group.Brann hesitated before speaking, quieter than usual. “I’m worried about him.”Delvin nodded solemnly. “Yeah.” Rivenn exhaled, rubbing his jaw. “He’s much darker than we’re used to. More moody. More volatile.” Genuine concern replaced his teasing lilt.“We need to keep an eye on him.” E
Lyra The fire crackled, sending embers swirling into the night as laughter rolled through the camp. Brann was mid-story, tankard in hand, weaving an exaggerated tale with the kind of energy only he could muster.“And then…” Brann’s voice boomed over the crackling fire, “Veyron, not even flinching, just leaps right at the beast, his cloak billowing behind him like the wings of some dark omen! He—get this—grabs its horns and yanks it to the ground like it’s nothing! He looked like some ancient god of war, practically glowing in the moonlight!”Delvin gave a dry smile, his arms crossed, leaning slightly away from Lyra as she sat dwarfed between him and Rivenn, who casually stroked a lock of Daphne’s hair with one hand and subtly brushed the back of Lyra’s.. “He looked more like a man trying not to die, if you ask me.”Brann shot Delvin a glance, but didn't let it derail him. “No, no. His shirt shimmered under the light of the fire. It was magnificent, really.”Rivenn leaned in closer t
VeyronThe warmth of the fire heated Veyron’s back, the crackling flames filling the tense silence. “What did you say to her?” Delvin asked. “To make her run off like that?”Veyron clenched his jaw. “I said nothing, Delvin,” he snapped. He didn’t want to discuss it.Delvin hesitated, studying him. “She really needs to be careful in these woods,” he said quietly. “There are wild creatures out here. It’s the border of your territory, not sure what might wander over. Just… stay alert. We’ll find her.”If he came looking for her, she would run. A vision of Lyra fleeing from him flashed before his eyes. Her face full of fear as she ran, with the wolf in him chasing, taking over. The excitement that tore through him at the thought twisted in his stomach, nauseating him.“Do you need me to help?” he asked, the words heavy.Delvin shook his head, gaze softening. “Nah, we’ve got it. You just stay here. We’ll bring her back.”With that, Delvin turned and joined the others in the search for the
LyraLyra stumbled through the woods, her chest constricting. Her breath came in shaky gasps, and she barely noticed the way the brambles tugged at her cloak until her foot caught on an unseen root. With a startled gasp, she tumbled forward, hitting the damp earth hard.For a moment, she stayed there, pressing her palms against the cool ground. Her vision blurred with unshed tears, and she let out a quiet, bitter laugh. Pathetic.A rustling sound drew her attention. Lifting her head, she blinked through the dark.A deer stood just beyond the trees, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the canopy. Its coat was white as freshly fallen snow, and its antlers stretched high and twisting, larger than any deer she had ever seen. A shiver ran down her spine.Lyra swallowed, wiping at her eyes as she sat back on her heels. “Why is Veyron like this?” she asked the deer. “Why push me away like I’m nothing, when I know he feels it too?”The deer watched her with unsettling still
Veyron Veyron slid the dagger’s edge methodically against the whetstone with a slow, deliberate scrape. The sound sliced through the quiet night. His mind had no business straying. But still, it did.The motion of the blade against stone felt too familiar—like the feel of her body beneath him, his senses surging from their closeness. He tried to focus, but his thoughts kept circling back to the way she trembled under his touch. Everything about her made it impossible to hold back.Her approach tugged at his awareness before her scent even reached him. Eryx’s growl vibrated beneath his ribs, impatient with his hiding.She is coming to you. Let her finish the bond. She is ours.The ancient voice twisted through his mind, cold and insistent, filling the deepest corners of his thoughts. No. Let her ache. Let her yearn. She is already bound to you, whether she admits it or not. Veyron knew who spoke to him. He had used the crescent gate just before this journey. Though it had never comm
LyraThe night air carried the scent of burning wood and crisp earth as the group settled around the campfire. Shadows danced through trees, stretching toward the sky. Lyra sat near the flames, absently poking at the embers with a stick, her thoughts a tangled mess.Her skin prickled, flushed from more than just the fire’s heat. Magnetic fluid cloyed the air—or perhaps it was just her. Every shift of her cloak across her shoulders made her wince inwardly, growing more sensitive to even the smallest sensations the longer she went without satisfying Vespera’s magic, which smoldered under her skin.Veyron had been avoiding her all day, stealing glances at her as if ashamed to even look at her. He had dragged her into this journey, forced her along. The heat of last night replayed in her mind—the touch of his hands, the weight of his body, the bite that had sent something deep and ancient crackling through her. Her thighs still remembered the press of his hips. Her neck still tingled whe
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