Elowen’s POVThe midnight air was a cool balm against my fevered skin, heavy with the earthy scent of rain-soaked soil and the sharp, clean fragrance of pine. A gentle breeze whispered through the trees surrounding the training grounds, carrying with it the distant hoot of an owl and the rustling of unseen creatures in the undergrowth. But the peace of the night was a stark contrast to the turmoil that raged within me.I sat hunched against the rough stone of the training pavilion’s outer wall, my injured leg stretched out before me. Each shallow breath sent a fresh wave of throbbing pain radiating from the deep gash that marred my inner thigh. The wound, a testament to my reckless desperation to push beyond my limits, was a dark, angry red against the pale moonlight. It pulsed with a dull ache that mirrored the ache in my heart.I shouldn’t have come out here. The rational part of my mind, the part that still clung to a semblance of self-preservation, screamed at me. It was foolish,
Alaric’s POVDawn bled across the horizon, painting the ancient stone floor of our shared chamber in hues of rose and gold. The light, usually a welcome sight, felt like an intrusion this morning, starkly illuminating the emptiness beside me. My hand, still heavy with the remnants of sleep, instinctively reached for the familiar warmth of Elowen’s presence.It met only the cool, crisp linen of undisturbed sheets.A jolt, sharp and unsettling, shot through me. My eyes snapped fully open, the lingering fog of sleep instantly banished. The blanket she habitually burrowed beneath lay folded with an unnerving tidiness at the foot of the bed, a stark testament to her absence.“Elowen?” The name escaped my lips, a rough whisper in the echoing silence of the room.I pushed myself up, the silk of my sleep shirt clinging uncomfortably. My gaze swept the room, lingering on the small, familiar details – the scattered books on her nightstand, the half-finished sketchpad resting against the wall, t
Alaric's pov She was curled in on herself, her bare feet pale against the damp earth. Her head rested against the rough stone armrest, her posture suggesting she had succumbed to exhaustion mid-sob. And then I saw it – the stark crimson stain seeping through the roughly wrapped fabric around her lower leg.Ranon reached her first, dropping to his knees beside her with a strangled cry. “Elowen!” His voice, usually so steady, trembled with undisguised fear.She stirred weakly, her long eyelashes fluttering open like she was fighting her way back from a deep, troubled dream. “Ranon…?” Her voice was barely a whisper, thick with exhaustion.“What the hell are you doing out here?” he breathed, his hands hovering over her, as if afraid to touch her and break her further. His eyes darted over her pale face, her slumped posture, the bloodied bandage.Theron and I reached them seconds later, our breath coming in ragged gasps. The sight of her – so small, so vulnerable, her face ashen and her e
Alaric’s POVThe weight of her in my arms was a stark contrast to the vibrant, fiery spirit that usually defined Elowen. She was a whirlwind of motion, a sharp wit, a force of nature barely contained within her slender frame. To feel her so pliant, so utterly still, sent a fresh wave of icy dread washing over me. She barely stirred as I carried her across the worn threshold of our shared sanctuary, the grand doors of the mansion closing silently behind us, shutting out the lingering shadows of the dawn.Her head nestled beneath my chin, her dark, tangled hair brushing softly against my jaw. One arm, usually so quick to gesture or to reach out in affection, lay loosely around my shoulder, offering no real support. The other rested limply in her lap, her fingers pale and still. I hated this. I loathed the sight of her diminished, drained of the incandescent energy that usually crackled around her like summer lightning. ‘Fragile’ was a word that should never be associated with Elowen. Sh
Theron’s POVThe moon, a silent sentinel in the inky sky, cast long, skeletal fingers of light through the heavy velvet curtains of our shared chamber. The silvered illumination painted Elowen’s face in stark relief against the deep shadows of the room. She had finally succumbed to the exhaustion that clung to her like a shroud, her breathing shallow and uneven, each inhale a fragile whisper against the silence. Tucked beneath layers of soft, comforting blankets, she looked unnervingly small, almost childlike, her usually vibrant presence muted, subdued. Her dark hair, usually a riotous tangle, now lay spilled across the white linen pillowcase like a pool of dark ink, framing her pale features.Alaric sat vigil on one side of the bed, a weighty tome resting in his lap, its pages untouched. His gaze remained fixed on Elowen, his intense focus a silent testament to the fear that still lingered in the air. Ranon, ever restless, was sprawled in the large armchair near the dying embers of
Elowen’s POVWarmth. It enveloped me like a soft, downy blanket, a stark contrast to the cold dread that had clung to me the night before. It wasn’t just the lingering heat of the blankets, but a deeper, more profound warmth that seeped into my bones, chasing away the lingering chill of the forest night. It was the warmth of safety, of being surrounded, of not being alone in the darkness. It was the quiet, unwavering presence of them.And then, the scent. A symphony of familiar aromas that always grounded me, always reminded me of home. Ranon’s deep, earthy scent, like the rich soil of the wild woods after a summer rain, grounding and strong. Alaric’s crisp cedar and the comforting mustiness of old books, a scent that spoke of quiet intellect and unwavering stability. And Theron’s unique blend of cool steel and the electric tang of an approaching storm, fierce and protective, a constant reminder of his unwavering vigilance.I cracked my eyes open, the lids feeling heavy, as if weighte
Elowen’s POVThe descent from the mansion to the Academy grounds was slow, deliberate. Each step was a careful negotiation between my desire for movement and the dull, persistent throb in my injured leg. The late afternoon sun, a molten orb sinking towards the horizon, cast long, dancing shadows across the manicured lawns and the surrounding wild grasses. A gentle breeze, carrying the earthy scent of pine needles and the cool dampness of the nearby stone walls, rustled through the tall blades, a soothing whisper against the lingering tension of the past night.After a breakfast filled with an almost exaggerated normalcy – pancakes cooked with surprising care by a brooding Ranon, Alaric’s meticulously brewed calming tea, and Theron’s surprisingly gentle teasing – I had pleaded with them to allow me a brief excursion to the Academy grounds. Not for rigorous training, not yet. Just for fresh air, the feel of the earth beneath my feet, and perhaps a few slow, deliberate movements to remin
Ranon’s POVThe restless energy that coursed through me was a tangible thing, a simmering undercurrent of fear and possessiveness that threatened to boil over. I couldn’t stand still. I couldn’t focus. The image of Caelum’s smug, knowing smile, the echo of his cryptic words, played on repeat in my mind, fueling the primal urge to protect, to claim, to obliterate any threat to Elowen’s well-being.She had been unnervingly quiet on the walk back from the training grounds. The usual spark, the quick wit, the playful banter – all extinguished, replaced by a heavy, unsettling silence. And Elowen’s silence wasn’t like anyone else’s. It wasn’t a peaceful stillness, but a pregnant pause, a gathering storm. It was the hush before a scream, the tautness of a bowstring before the arrow is released, the razor’s edge before it cuts.I hated it. I loathed the feeling of being shut out, of being unable to reach her, to soothe the turmoil that I knew was raging beneath the surface.Alaric, ever the s
Elowen's POV His grip tightened, and his hips bucked forward, hitting the back of my throat, and I moaned, the sensation a delightful mix of pleasure and pain. Alaric shifted forward, his lips closing around the nipple that Theron had been neglecting, his fingers teasing the other. Theron kissed my shoulder, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, and his hands slid across the front of my panties, gently rubbing, the pressure eliciting a new wave of desire. Then Ranon tightened his grip on my hair, and the world blurred, his cock hitting the back of my throat, the sensation sending a ripple of pleasure straight to the aching apex of my thighs. I moaned, a sound he clearly felt, and a string of curses fell from his lips, his hips thrusting more forcefully, hitting the back of my throat again and again, the sensation pushing me closer and closer to the edge, the pressure building between my thighs. A familiar hand cupped the front of my panties, and a second later Theron ripped
Elowen's POV “I want to mark you, Elowen,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “Not just with a bite, a physical claim. I want the world to know, unequivocally, that you are ours. That you belong to us, body and soul.” My heart raced, a thrill mixed with a sense of profound belonging coursing through me. “Then… show me, Ranon.” He captured my lips in a deep, possessive kiss, his tongue seeking entry, exploring the warm cavern of my mouth with a gentle insistence. Then a second pair of hands slid across my chest, his thumbs finding the sensitive skin beneath the swell of my breasts, and my breath hitched. Theron. His fingers gently lifted my shirt, a low, approving growl sounding from his chest when he saw the black lace of my bra. Then he pushed the fabric further, his calloused fingers finding the taut peaks of my nipples and tweaking, eliciting a low moan from my throat. My senses were overloading, every nerve ending coming alive, the intoxicating scent of sa
Elowen’s POVThe sun, a molten orb of amber and gold, had just begun its slow descent below the jagged horizon, painting the western sky in fiery hues that bled into soft violets and deep oranges. The tall, arched windows of the triplets’ private quarters, a sprawling suite they had painstakingly personalized, cast long, dancing shadows on the ancient stone walls, the flickering light resembling the hushed whispers of old magic, secrets stirring in the very fabric of the mansion. I stood before the crackling fireplace, the warmth radiating against my back doing little to thaw the lingering tension that still coiled within me like a tightly wound knot after the day’s unsettling events.They hadn’t spoken much after Caelum’s unexpected appearance in the combat hall. Not in explicit words, at least. But their silent communication had been deafening. The way they walked closer to me than usual, their bodies a constant, protective presence; the unwavering intensity of Theron’s gaze, barely
Elowen's POVThe next morning golden sunlight, fractured by the delicate weave of the gauzy curtains, painted shifting patterns across the dark wooden floors of our shared bedroom, finally settling in warm, inviting pools on the soft, rumpled sheets tangled around my limbs. For a few blissful, stolen seconds, cocooned in the lingering warmth of their bodies and the faint scent of their skin, I managed to forget everything—the rigid rules of the academy, the ever-present hum of latent magic, the unseen threats lurking in the shadows, the hushed whispers that followed me like a persistent echo. All that registered was the steady, comforting warmth of a muscular body pressed intimately against my back.Ranon’s strong arm was draped possessively over my waist, his calloused fingers splayed against the soft skin of my stomach, a silent claim that sent a pleasant shiver down my spine. Behind me, I could hear the soft, even rhythm of Alaric’s breathing, a reassuring presence in the quiet roo
Elowen's POV When his thumb brushed the thin, soaked fabric of my panties, a strangled whimper escaped my lips, a sound raw with need. The ache between my legs intensified, a sharp, insistent throbbing that demanded his touch, their touch. “Gods, you’re so wet, Elowen,” Ranon muttered against my skin, his breath hot and ragged against my inner thigh, the possessive observation sending another shiver of anticipation through me. Then his finger slipped beneath the delicate edge of the fabric, gliding with exquisite slowness over my slick, swollen heat, and I couldn’t help the involuntary moan that spilled from my lips, my head falling back against the cool, rough stone of the rooftop as a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure shuddered through my core. Ranon groaned, the sound low and guttural, a primal rumble that vibrated against my skin, his fingers stroking against me with a teasing gentleness that left me trembling uncontrollably, every nerve ending screaming for more. “I want
Elowen’s POV The cool night air, sharp with the scent of distant rain and damp stone, pressed in around us, no longer a chill but a warm, endless cocoon, isolating us from the rest of the sleeping Academy. Above, the celestial canvas was a breathtaking spectacle, the stars spun in dizzying, intricate patterns, a thousand tiny, silent witnesses to the beautiful, chaotic storm raging within my heart. I felt like I was burning from the inside out, a slow, consuming fire ignited by their nearness, their unwavering gazes. Surrounded by them—Alaric’s steady, grounding strength, Theron’s consuming, passionate fire, Ranon’s wild, untamed hunger—I was drowning in the magnetic pull that bound us together, a force both terrifying and exhilarating. And I didn’t want to be saved. I yearned to succumb, to be completely consumed by the intensity of our connection. I wanted to drown in the depths of their devotion. “Look at me, little star,” Theron whispered, his voice a rough, urgent rasp that r
Elowen’s POVThe night pressed down on the Academy like a heavy velvet shroud, suffocating and restless. Even after the last echoes of footsteps faded down the long corridors and the heavy oak doors of the student rooms clicked shut, sealing everyone into their private spaces, sleep remained a distant, unattainable shore for me. I paced the confines of my room, the moonlight filtering through the tall, arched windows, casting pale silver rectangles across the dark, polished hardwood floors, my mind a relentless whirlwind of anxieties and unanswered questions, spinning endlessly around Caelum’s cryptic words and the Triplets’ simmering fury.They had been a silent, ominous presence throughout dinner in the grand hall. Dangerously, furiously silent. Their usual banter and playful jabs absent, replaced by a taut, almost palpable tension that crackled in the air around us like an impending storm gathering strength, the heavy clouds of their anger darkening their eyes. I knew, with a certa
Elowen's POVThe sun was a pale, watery smudge behind a thick blanket of heavy, bruised clouds as I stepped into the Academy’s main courtyard the next morning. The cool wind, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and distant rain, stirred the loose strands of my hair around my shoulders, a fleeting caress that did little to dispel the deeper chill that snaked its way down my spine.It wasn’t the bite of the autumn air that made my skin prickle with unease.It was the way they watched me.Alaric.Theron.Ranon.My mates.Their gazes, sharp and possessive, followed my every movement across the bustling courtyard with such focused, unwavering intensity that it felt like a tangible pressure against my skin, a silent, invisible touch that both reassured and unnerved me. Protective. Possessive. Fierce. Their united front was a comforting shield, yet sometimes, the sheer weight of their attention felt like a gilded cage.And now, adding another layer to the already charged atmosphere, Caelu
Theron’s POVThe silence in the grand hall was thick enough to cut with a knife. Every fork clinked a little too loudly, every hushed conversation seemed to die in its tracks. All eyes were on us. On Elowen.I kept my arm possessively around her shoulders, my fingers lightly tracing the curve of her neck beneath the collar of Alaric’s jacket she still wore. A silent warning to anyone who dared to look too long.Ranon’s presence behind us was a palpable weight, a silent promise of retribution to anyone who might consider challenging our claim. I could feel the heat radiating off him, the barely leashed possessiveness that mirrored my own.Alaric, ever the pragmatist, continued eating as if nothing unusual was happening, but his silver eyes flicked around the hall, assessing the reactions, cataloging the threats. His hand, resting casually on the table, was close enough to Elowen’s to reach her instantly.Elowen, bless her oblivious heart, seemed more concerned with the plate of fruit i