LOGINGavin POV
The council hall was heavy with the weight of my loss. My brothers and their Betas were already seated at the massive table, their commanders and elite warriors forming a silent, watching wall of muscle. It was a discussion of war, and the only thing missing was my brigade. Our empty chairs felt like a tomb.
*‘We should be with our mate. Not here. Playing games wit
Hey guys, I have been really, really sick, so I will be taking a brief 7-14 day hiatus. I need to recover and make it so I can give you proper, top notch content. Enjoy all of book one though! Book 2 will resume after the hiatus! I love you all! Thanks for understanding!
Sixty FiveErik POVIt was pathetically easy to convince Gavin’s youngest brother, Zenith. A little wit, a few well-placed bargains, and the fool spilled every detail of their half-baked plan. As we waited for the cavalry to arrive, I watched Gavin, a raw, vibrating nerve of barely contained fury. His wolf was a snarling beast just behind his eyes, and I savored the sight of his struggle. He’d taken my woman, and every ounce of his pain was a delicious nectar to me.His brothers arrived, a coven of five witches in tow, and the air grew thick with the scent of ozone and a mobilizing army. Gavin was forced to sit, his knuckles bone-white as he fought to keep Eon from shredding through his skin. His newfound power was a beast he hadn’t yet learned to ride, and his suffering was a spectacle.His brothers, the twins, were immediately bent over a t
Sixty FourTrisha POVThe days bled into one another, a monotonous cycle of degradation in the cold, damp dark. I never saw the King again, but Zormel and Renira were my constant tormentors, accompanied by silent figures in thick, green cloaks. There was also Roarx, a hulking lycan assigned to my care. I memorized every one of their faces, etching them into my memory for a future I prayed I’d live to see. I clung to the rational hope that Gavin was coming. They hadn’t bragged of his death, and that was the only thread of faith I had left.Twice a day, they forced slop that tasted like dirt and gritty, rust-flavored water down my throat. They dressed me in a mockery of clothing, a black and red scrap of lace and silk that was more lingerie than dress. It was designed to humiliate, with its plunging v-neck, open back, and slits that ran high up my thighs. The first day, they had slath
Sixty ThreeGavin POVA groan echoed in the vast emptiness of my mind, and then, a slow, lumbering shift. Eon. He was finally stirring, lifting his head from the fog of a five-day slumber. Five days. An eternity without my mate. The first three, my body had been a slave to recovery, the agonizing crash from the heights of Trisha’s heat leaving me useless while my brothers scrambled to track her.Their tracker had been led on a wild goose chase, a false trail. By the time the deception was discovered, the real one—the one linked to her—had been sabotaged. Now, she was a ghost. The only way to find her was through the bond I shared with her, but the bond was a severed wire, sparking with static. I couldn’t pinpoint her. I couldn’t scent her. And with every passing hour, my sanity frayed, my anger coiling into a tighter, hotter knot of fury.
Sixty TwoTrisha POVI woke to pain. It was the only thing that existed. A universe of agony, radiating from every muscle, every nerve, every inch of my skin. My arms were stiff, dead weights, and I groaned as I realized I was hanging, my wrists secured in cold metal clasps chained to the ceiling. I’d been moved. The damp, earthy smell of a dungeon filled my nostrils. The metal bit into my raw skin, aching with a deep, persistent fire. How was I still alive?My head was a leaden weight, my thoughts fuzzy. I tried to shift, to find some position that might ease the torment, but there was none. The slow *drip… drip… drip…* of water somewhere in the cell was a maddening rhythm. A cold breeze, artificial and chilling, ghosted over my naked flesh, raising goosebumps on my bruised and bloody skin. From what I could see, I was a canvas of
Sixty OneRenira POVThat bloody, ancient vampire! The memory of his smug satisfaction made my teeth ache. Riddles. He had ladled his precious information in riddles wrapped in ancient vampiric, forcing me into a blood vow that shackled my hands. No further harm to the Rogue Human. Or her Prince. My husband, Morex, would be apoplectic.The sterile truth of my own flaw pressed in on me, a constant, gnawing ache. I was barren. A failure in the most fundamental way a queen could be, unable to ascend the Crown officially, unable to provide my mate the heirs he craved. I may not have been adept at unraveling riddles, but I didn’t need to be. The vampire’s desperate obfuscation was all the confirmation I needed. The human, Trisha, was the Enlightened Child from the prophecy.I had stumbled upon the prophecy by chance, during an excava







