Elowen’s POVThe morning sun, a brazen intruder, spilled through the expansive glass windows of the Academy’s combat arena, painting the polished stone floors in streaks of gold and illuminating the raw tension that already thrummed beneath the surface of the bustling room. The air crackled with a palpable anticipation, a familiar energy that always accompanied combat drills, especially those involving the top-tier Alphas – the triplets.But this morning felt different. The usual undercurrent of excitement was thick with a new layer of scrutiny, a palpable curiosity that had intensified ever since the stolen kisses – Ranon’s desperate claim on the rooftop, Alaric’s gentle solace in the rain-soaked gardens, Theron’s fiery promise in the quiet of his room. Every stolen glance, every shared secret, had seemingly been magnified under the Academy’s ever-watchful eyes.Whispers, sharp and insidious, clung to the edges of the walls like grasping shadows, their hushed tones carrying the weigh
Elowen's POV Second Round – Alaric. Alaric was already waiting in the center of the mat, rolling his broad shoulders, his dark hair pulled back in a tight knot, his jaw set with a focused determination. His silver eyes were locked on mine – not intense with possessiveness like Ranon’s, not teasingly sharp like Theron’s. Just… intensely focused, a silent promise of a challenging but fair fight. “You okay, sunshine?” he asked softly, his voice a low rumble that only I could hear, even as we began to circle each other, the tension between us a palpable thing. “I’m always okay, Alaric.” The automatic response felt hollow, even to my own ears. “You don’t have to be, you know.” His gaze softened for a fleeting moment, a hint of the gentle soul beneath the stoic exterior. Before I could formulate a response, he struck, his movements fast and powerful, each blow precise and calculated. Alaric fought like a controlled storm – a whirlwind of disciplined chaos. And he always, always pushe
Elowen’s POV The air in the Academy’s combat hall, a vast chamber usually echoing with the clang of steel and the grunts of exertion, crackled with a palpable, almost electric tension even before Professor Lyra’s crisp voice sliced through the anticipatory silence. I sat wedged between Alaric and Theron on the long, polished wooden bench that lined the edge of the expansive sparring floor. Ranon, ever the sentinel, hadn’t allowed me more than a few feet of breathing room since the charged intimacy of the rooftop. His calloused fingers, possessive and reassuring, grazed the back of my hand every few heartbeats, a silent, tactile reminder to both himself and anyone watching that I was still within his orbit—still his. But the moment Caelum stepped onto the gleaming sparring floor, a ripple of altered energy spread through the room, a subtle shift in the students’ collective focus. He moved with a predatory grace, his tall, muscular frame encased in black training leathers that seemed
Elowen’s POV The rest of the day at the Academy passed in a blur of lectures and drills, each moment punctuated by the subtle awareness of the triplets’ watchful gazes. Ranon’s hand never strayed far, a possessive warmth against my skin. Alaric’s silver eyes followed me with a quiet intensity, a silent promise of unwavering support. Theron’s sharp observations and sardonic remarks were always directed my way, a constant, teasing reminder of our intertwined lives. The undercurrent of the morning’s events lingered, a subtle shift in the way the other students interacted with me. There was a newfound respect, tinged with a healthy dose of fear, in their eyes. Caelum’s defeat at my hands had clearly sent a ripple through the Academy’s hierarchy. As dusk began to paint the sky in hues of fiery orange and soft violet, we found ourselves in the training gardens, a secluded sanctuary tucked away behind the main buildings. The air was fragrant with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and da
Elowen’s POV The night with Ranon was a whirlwind of raw sensation and possessive tenderness. His touch was demanding, his kisses branding, each caress a silent claim. Yet, beneath the fierce exterior, there was a surprising gentleness, a deep-seated need to connect on a level that transcended mere physicality. We lost ourselves in each other, the cool stone of the gazebo a stark contrast to the burning heat of our bodies entwined under the watchful gaze of the moon. When dawn finally broke, painting the sky in soft hues of pink and gold, I awoke nestled in his arms, the lingering scent of our passion clinging to the air. He was still asleep, his dark hair tousled, his strong arms wrapped protectively around me. A sense of deep contentment settled within me, a quiet understanding of the intricate tapestry of my relationships with the triplets. Each connection was unique, each filled a different part of me, and last night had been a powerful reminder of the intense, undeniable bond
Elowen’s POV The remainder of the evening passed with a renewed sense of quiet solidarity. The brief intrusion by Lysander had served as a stark reminder of the outside world’s perception of our unconventional bond, but it had also solidified the unwavering unity between the triplets and me. Ranon’s possessive hand never left mine, Alaric’s protective arm remained draped across my shoulders, and Theron’s occasional sardonic remarks were now laced with an extra layer of territoriality. Later, as the common room emptied and the Academy settled into its nightly quiet, we retreated to the triplets’ suite. The familiar comfort of their shared living space, the scent of their combined pheromones a soothing balm to my senses, eased the lingering tension of the day. Ranon had built a roaring fire in the hearth, the flickering flames casting dancing shadows on the stone walls. Alaric was meticulously cleaning his blades, the rhythmic shick-shick of the whetstone a familiar sound. Theron was
Elowen’s POV We sat like that for a long time, our hands clasped across the cool wood of the kitchen table, the silence a comfortable tapestry woven with unspoken affection and shared understanding. The gentle ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway marked the slow passage of the late hour, each tick a quiet affirmation of the peaceful intimacy that enveloped us. The moonlight continued its silent vigil through the arched window, bathing the deserted kitchen in a soft, ethereal glow. Alaric’s thumb continued its slow, soothing strokes across the back of my hand, a simple gesture that spoke volumes of his quiet tenderness. His silver eyes, still softened by the late hour, held a steady gaze, a silent reassurance that transcended the need for words. In that moment, the complexities of our lives, the ever-present awareness of the triplets’ possessiveness, the weight of the Academy’s scrutiny – all of it seemed to recede, leaving only the profound connection between Alaric and m
Elowen’s POVSleep came easily, a deep, restful slumber cradled in Alaric’s arms. The quiet intimacy of our night lingered in the air, a peaceful warmth that chased away the lingering shadows of the day. When I finally stirred, the first rays of dawn were painting the sky in soft hues of rose and gold, casting a gentle light across Alaric’s sleeping face.He lay on his side, his dark hair tousled, his silver eyes closed in peaceful repose. There was a vulnerability in his relaxed features, a softness that was rarely on display in the waking hours. A wave of affection washed over me, a deep appreciation for the quiet strength and unwavering tenderness he offered.I traced the sharp line of his jaw with a gentle fingertip, the stubble rough beneath my touch. His brow furrowed slightly in his sleep, and I leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. His eyelids fluttered, and his silver eyes slowly opened, focusing on me with a sleepy warmth.“Morning,” he murmured, his voice still t
Alaric’s POV My fists were still trembling, the residual adrenaline of the confrontation coursing through my veins. I could feel the dull throb of the scrape on my knuckles from where they’d connected with Lysander’s arrogant jaw—a sharp, satisfying impact that had barely scratched the surface of the consuming fury that still burned within me. How dare he touch her? How dare he look at her with that possessive glint in his eyes, as if she were some prize to be won, something to conquer? The possessive rage was a living thing inside me, a primal fire threatening to consume me whole. My wolf was clawing just beneath the surface, snarling and restless, demanding blood. Demanding retribution. Demanding justice for the blatant disrespect. But beneath the burning rage, a flicker of something colder, more unsettling, remained. She’d looked… scared. Not of him. Of me. I replayed the chaotic scene over and over in my mind as I stormed down the deserted corridor, the air around me prac
Elowen’s POV Next morning the academy's cafeteria hummed with the chaotic symphony of midday: the incessant clatter of ceramic trays against metal surfaces, the low murmur of countless conversations weaving together, punctuated by the occasional burst of unrestrained laughter erupting from various clusters of students. I had sought refuge at a secluded table near the far wall, a steaming cup of lukewarm tea clutched in my hands, my thoughts adrift somewhere between the intricate strategies discussed in Professor Vance’s tactics lecture and the stolen, breathless intimacy of our rooftop rendezvous. The triplets were currently immersed in mandatory combat training, a rigorous session reserved for high-ranking shifters, and I had deliberately chosen this quieter hour to slip away, craving a moment of solitary contemplation. For once, the relentless demands of academy life seemed to recede, leaving a fragile semblance of peace in its wake. That fleeting tranquility shattered the moment
Elowen’s POV Before I could even form a coherent response, he captured my lips with a fierce, possessive hunger, his hands moving with a renewed urgency, exploring every inch of exposed skin with a desperate need. The lingering tension from our sparring match dissolved into a raw, primal desire that mirrored my own burgeoning need. His knee nudged my legs apart with a subtle command, and he settled his weight more fully against me, the hard ridge of his arousal pressing insistently against the slick heat gathering between my thighs. A sharp gasp escaped my lips, my body arching instinctively into his, a silent plea for connection. I needed him, wanted him, with a ferocity that eclipsed anything I had ever felt before. With a low, guttural groan that rumbled deep in his chest, he entered me, filling me completely. His pace was slow, deliberate, each thrust a measured exploration, the rhythm designed to stoke the already blazing fires within me until they burned hotter than the midda
Elowen's POV “I love this version of you, Ranon,” I whispered, my voice husky with desire. “The one that’s not afraid to want me, to claim me.” He looked down at me, his amber eyes blazing with a fierce, possessive light. “Then I’ll show you all of me, Elowen. Every single part.” His gaze dropped to my lips, lingering there for a breathless moment before returning to my eyes, filled with a raw intensity that made my heart pound. He shifted, his weight pressing more fully against me, the hard planes of his body a stark reminder of his strength, his possessiveness. “You feel it too, don’t you, Elowen?” he murmured, his voice thick with a desire that mirrored my own burgeoning need. “This… connection between us. It’s different. Fiercer.” I nodded, unable to articulate the complex emotions swirling within me. The bond I shared with all three of them was unique, a tapestry woven with different threads of affection, passion, and unwavering loyalty. But there was a raw, untamed in
Elowen’s POVThe sun, a molten orb sinking towards the horizon, cast long, dramatic shadows across the secluded sparring field nestled behind the ancient stone walls of the academy. Golden rays, thick and warm, bled across the soft, yielding grass, painting the familiar landscape in hues of amber and rose. The other students, their energy spent after the rigorous combat class, had long since scattered back to the relative comfort of their quarters, but I had lingered, my body still thrumming with the residual adrenaline of earlier matches, and my heart… still a tangled mess of conflicting emotions that the physical exertion hadn’t quite managed to unravel.“I knew you’d wait.”The deep, familiar timbre of his voice sent a shiver down my spine. I turned slowly.Ranon stepped out of the long shadows cast by the ancient oak trees bordering the training ground, his presence as always both silent and undeniably solid. His dark training shirt clung to the sculpted lines of his torso, damp w
Elowen’s POVThe echoing halls of the academy pulsed with the raw, untamed energy of morning, a palpable hum of anticipation and nervous excitement as students streamed towards their respective classrooms. Today was combat day, a stark reminder of the volatile world we inhabited, where grudges often manifested as bruises and the subtle dance of flirtation could ignite into something far more dangerous, far more real. The sharp, metallic scent of steel mingled with the faint, musky tang of sweat already permeating the air, a sensory cocktail that spoke of both discipline and potential violence.I walked with a deliberate stride between Alaric and Theron, their presence a comforting, possessive shield against the curious and often hostile gazes that followed me like persistent shadows. Ranon trailed a step behind, his movements fluid and silent, a dark, watchful presence that lingered even when he didn’t utter a single word. The other students parted as we moved through the crowded corr
Elowen’s POVSunlight, a gentle intruder, seeped through the delicate weave of the sheer curtains, painting intricate golden patterns across the rumpled expanse of the bed. I stirred slowly, my muscles pleasantly relaxed, the lingering warmth of three strong, possessive bodies anchoring me to the soft, yielding mattress like invisible tethers.I was cocooned in a comforting heat – Ranon’s muscular arm slung possessively across my waist, his fingers splayed against the curve of my stomach, a silent claim even in sleep. Behind me, I could hear the soft, even rhythm of Alaric’s breathing, a deep, reassuring sound that filled the quiet room. Theron, ever the early riser, wasn’t physically touching me at the moment, but his lingering scent, a heady blend of spice and something uniquely his own, still clung to the sheets and pillows, a potent reminder of the passionate hours we had shared. I could still feel the phantom warmth of his demanding kisses from the night before, the way his touch
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