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We don’t air our dirty laundry for the entire academy to see.
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2025-06-03 21:47:12
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The Triplet's Bullied Mate Holy hell…
Elowen's POV “You’re going to regret that,” Ranon said, his voice low, dangerously quiet, the calm before a storm. And then, it began. Magic poured off him in tangible waves, dark and furious, laced with swirling shadow and incandescent flame. The very air in the arena dimmed, as if the light itself recoiled from the raw, untamed power radiating from Ranon. Even Caelum, for the first time, blinked, taken aback, his confident smirk faltering for half a second—and that was all Ranon needed. He surged forward, a primal roar tearing from his throat, dodging Caelum’s retaliatory strike with a swiftness born of pure instinct and pain. He planted his foot firmly into Caelum’s stomach, a brutal, jarring impact, and slammed him back into the arena wall with impossible force. The ancient stone cracked visibly behind Caelum, a spiderweb of fissures spreading from the point of impact. Gasps erupted from the scattered students, a mixture of shock and awe. “Holy hell…” “That’s Triplet p
The Triplet's Bullied Mate Finally. Let’s see the infamous Ranon in action. The golden boy.
Elowen's POV The energy in the training hall was a suffocating weight. It hummed, vibrated, thrummed with a palpable tension, sharp and insistent, like the very air just before lightning rends the sky. I could feel it the moment I stepped into the arena, a prickling awareness on my skin. Whispers, light as dust motes but sharp as obsidian shards, followed me, a relentless, pervasive hum that seemed to thicken the air around me. It wasn’t just about sparring today—it was about them. About me. About the Triplets. About Caelum. About the new, unsettling heat in the academy’s ancient bloodline war, a silent, volatile conflict that had suddenly erupted into the open. And now, Ranon was stepping into the ring. Each deliberate scrape of his boots across the polished stone floor echoed in the sudden, expectant silence. His academy shirt, usually so pristine, clung to his powerful body, damp with sweat from the preceding drills, the crisp white wrap around his right hand stark and angry-loo
The Triplet's Bullied Mate Afraid of what true power looks like, untamed.
Elowen's POV Next day the air in the training hall was different. It crackled, thick with an almost palpable tension, sharp with an unspoken energy. It was like the oppressive stillness just before lightning cleaves the sky, or the drawn-out breath before an explosion. I could feel it, a prickling sensation on my skin, the moment I stepped into the vast, echoing arena. Whispers, light as dust motes but sharp as obsidian shards, followed me like an invisible trail. Whispers about the triplets, about Caelum, about the rooftop kiss, the scandalous intimacy. My name, once so singularly my own, felt now to be on everyone's lips, no longer belonging solely to me, but fragmented, claimed. I wasn’t just “Elowen” anymore. I was hers—the girl with the dangerous blood, the one who attracted trouble like a moth to flame. I was theirs—the triplets’ shared obsession, their precious charge. And I was his—Caelum’s enigmatic interest, his destined flame. It depended entirely on who you asked, on w
The Triplet's Bullied Mate I’m trying not to fall too fast, Elowen.
Elowen's POV The moment the instructor’s sharp, resonant voice dismissed us, the training arena, previously a crucible of focused energy, erupted into a flurry of motion. Students scattered like leaves caught in a sudden gust of wind, their earlier discipline dissolving into a cacophony of excited chatter and hurried footsteps. The air, still thick with the lingering scent of scorched earth and sweat, hummed with residual heat and raw energy, but I barely registered it anymore. My own heart was still thundering, a furious drumbeat against my ribs—though not from the physical exertion of the combat itself. No, it thundered from the way Theron had looked at me during the fight, his eyes a brewing storm of possessiveness and fear. It thundered from the way Caelum had watched me from the shadows, his gaze unnervingly familiar, hinting at secrets I couldn’t yet grasp. And most acutely, it thundered from the way Alaric hadn’t said a single word through it all, his usual measured calm hol
The Triplet's Bullied Mate We don’t air our dirty laundry for the entire academy to see.
Elowen's POV The training arena buzzed with a primal energy, a low, vibrant hum that permeated the very air. The scent of scorched earth from previous sessions mingled with the sharper tang of sweat and unspent adrenaline, a heady mix that both grounded and excited me. Students lined up in various pairs, some already engaged in rigorous sparring, the rhythmic clang of practice blades filling the space, others stretching, their movements fluid and practiced. Their chatter was a low murmur, but it was charged, thick with an unspoken anticipation, a collective sensing that something was simmering just beneath the surface, poised to erupt. And I knew precisely why. Alaric, ever the watchful strategist, stood rigidly to my right, his arms crossed over his formidable chest as he observed the warm-ups with narrowed, analytical eyes, missing nothing. Theron, a smoldering, silent force, leaned against a thick support post directly behind me, his presence a palpable heat at my back. And Ran
The Triplet's Bullied Mate But you in my bed, Elowen, wearing my clothes?
Elowen's POV Morning sunlight, filtered through the heavy, velvet-lined curtains, cast a soft, golden hue across Ranon's private chambers. It wasn't the harsh, unfiltered brilliance of a new day, but a gentle, almost timid glow, washing over the intricate carvings of the wooden furniture and warming the very air. I blinked slowly, my eyelids fluttering open, nestled deeply beneath the luxurious warmth of thick blankets and something infinitely stronger, more comforting—someone. Ranon. His powerful arms were still wrapped around me, one draped protectively over my waist, the other tucked carefully beneath my neck, cradling my head. His breath, warm and steady, stirred the fine strands of hair near my ear, a peaceful, rhythmic whisper. I could feel the steady, resonant rhythm of his heart beating beneath my palm, the slow, reassuring rise and fall of his chest, anchoring me completely to this perfect, fleeting moment. The subtle scent of him—wild mint, clean linen, and something uni
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