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Then breathe with me, Elowen.
Huling Na-update:
2025-05-10 12:05:24
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The Triplet's Bullied Mate Don’t go easy on her just because you were all… sharing a dorm room last night.
Elowen’s POV The morning sunlight, fractured into brilliant beams by the tall, arched windows lining the academy hallways, painted shifting patterns on the ancient stone floors as I walked between the triplets, their solid presences a comforting weight on either side of me. My legs ached with a pleasant fatigue, a subtle reminder of the rooftop rendezvous that had stretched late into the night—not just from the tangled limbs and whispered intimacies, but also from the surprisingly intense sparring match Ranon had “accidentally” initiated before we finally sought sleep. And of course, Alaric had ensured I was thoroughly breathless by the end of his impromptu training session, punctuated by his infuriatingly smug little smirks every time I stumbled. Theron, as was his usual morning demeanor, hadn’t said much. He rarely did before the day truly began. But his hand had brushed mine twice as we walked through the bustling corridors, a fleeting, almost accidental contact, and I knew bette
The Triplet's Bullied Mate Then breathe with me, Elowen.
Elowen's POV The air in the hallway, just beyond the opulent warmth of the dining room, felt surprisingly cool against my flushed cheeks, a silent, almost ghostly whisper against my skin. I hadn’t even registered the frantic pace of my breathing until Alaric stepped directly in front of me once more, his strong hand still a firm, grounding presence on my arm, his usually sharp expression unreadable in the flickering, diffused light cast by the ornate chandelier overhead. “I know you’re overwhelmed, Elowen,” he said softly, his voice a low, steady anchor in the turbulent sea of my emotions, “but please… don’t shut us out. Not now. Not when we’re all trying so damn hard to hold ourselves together, for you.” My lips parted, a jumble of conflicting words and feelings caught behind an invisible wall in my throat. He looked too sincere, too rawly exposed. This wasn’t the familiar, cocky smirk Alaric often wore like a suit of armor, a shield against vulnerability. This was the man beneath
The Triplet's Bullied Mate Planning to sneak out again tonight, sweetheart?
Elowen’s POV The grand dining room of the Blackthorn mansion, a space usually echoing with the confident pronouncements of alpha lineage and the clinking of expensive silverware, was bathed in the warm, almost syrupy golden glow emanating from the ornate crystal chandeliers suspended high above. The light cast long, dancing shadows on the dark, polished marble floor, making the already imposing room feel both opulent and slightly theatrical. The massive mahogany table was laden with an extravagant spread, a testament to the Blackthorn family’s formidable status and their almost ritualistic adherence to providing the best. There were platters piled high with glistening roast meats, bowls overflowing with vibrant steamed vegetables, fragrant mounds of spiced rice, and, my secret indulgence, a basket overflowing with that subtly sweet, honey-glazed bread that I could never quite resist. But despite the tempting array before me, food was the furthest thing from my mind. The air in the
The Triplet's Bullied Mate And I thought I was the chaotic one in this little… quartet.
Elowen’s POV Later that evening the sky was a breathtaking canvas, painted in the soft, fading hues of lavender bleeding into rich gold as the quiet hush of dusk gently draped itself over the sprawling academy grounds. The usual cacophony of training—the sharp clangs of metal colliding, the echoing shouts of students pushing their limits—had long since faded into the peaceful silence of twilight, leaving a serene stillness in its wake. I sat on a small, surprisingly soft patch of grass near the edge of the main sparring field, my knees drawn up to my chest, my fingers absently plucking at a stray blade of grass, its delicate texture a small distraction from the swirling thoughts in my head. I wore one of Ranon’s sweatshirts, a familiar comfort—oversized, incredibly warm, and carrying his unique, intoxicating scent, a blend of spice and something wild. The cool evening breeze whispered across the open field, sending a slight shiver through the exposed skin of my neck, but it wasn’t
The Triplet's Bullied Mate Still think you can resist me, little wildcat?
Elowen’s POV The morning sun, a merciless, judgmental eye in the clear sky, beat down upon the ochre dust of the academy’s main training grounds, its harsh glare starkly illuminating the makeshift arena. A restless sea of students, their faces a mixture of apprehension and eager anticipation, swirled around the perimeter, their hushed whispers and nervous fidgeting creating a palpable hum of tension. The air itself felt thick and heavy, saturated with the mingled scents of sweat, tightly coiled nerves, and the barely perceptible undercurrent of latent magic that always permeated this place. I stood alone just outside the designated sparring circle, the worn leather of my training gloves feeling strangely alien against my clammy palms. Meticulously, I adjusted the straps, the familiar weight a small, tangible comfort against the frantic, erratic hammering of my heart. The tumultuous events of the past few days—the unsettling, intrusive encounter with Lysander, Alaric’s fiercely pos
The Triplet's Bullied Mate We’re not saying you’re property, little star.
Elowen’s POV Sleep had been a fickle, unwelcome guest, teasing the edges of my consciousness throughout the long, restless night without ever offering true respite. My mind had been a battlefield of conflicting emotions, replaying the charged moments of the previous day in an endless loop—Alaric’s possessive kiss, the raw, untamed fury that had blazed in his eyes when he’d finally turned away from Lysander, and the persistent, dull ache in my chest, a knot of anxiety that had stubbornly refused to loosen its grip. I sat on the edge of my bed now, the soft cotton of the sheets feeling strangely cold against my skin, watching the first tentative rays of sunlight tentatively paint the eastern sky in hues of pale rose and soft gold. The sprawling academy grounds outside my window, usually bustling with early morning activity, were still shrouded in a delicate, ethereal mist that clung to the shadowy edges of the ancient trees, lending the familiar landscape an almost dreamlike, otherwor
The Triplet's Bullied Mate Like he had some damn right to touch you.
Alaric’s POV The sprawling halls of the academy, usually teeming with the restless energy of burgeoning shifters and the hushed whispers of arcane secrets, were quieter than usual, a deceptive stillness that belied the turbulent emotions churning within me. Distant echoes of lingering footsteps faded into the stone, the last of the students retreating into the relative sanctuary of their dormitories. I stood outside Elowen’s room, my fists clenched tightly at my sides, the rhythmic pounding of my heart a heavy drumbeat against my ribs. She hadn’t said much after I’d practically dragged her away from Lysander’s unsettling presence in the cafeteria. The words hadn’t been necessary. That look in her eyes—a complex tapestry woven with threads of confusion, a subtle hint of guilt, and an underlying current of frustration—haunted the edges of my vision. I knocked once. A soft, hesitant tap that felt strangely out of sync with the turmoil raging inside me. The heavy wooden door creaked i
The Triplet's Bullied Mate How dare he touch her?
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
The Triplet's Bullied Mate You don’t talk with your hands on someone else’s mate.
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
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