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The Kiss That Burns
Last Updated:
2025-08-30 03:39:34
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Rejected By The Alpha, Desired By The Immortal King ERIK’S ’s HUNGER
POV: ErikFreedom did not come with sunlight.It came with shadow.The world above barely noticed when the Vault emptied. No bells tolled. No gods howled. They were too busy bickering over their Loom and whispering about balance.Fools.It is always the dark they forget that kills them.The roots that once held me now walk with me. They slide beneath the skin of the earth like veins through a corpse—touching forests, curling around city pylons, drinking from rivers and graves alike. I move where they move. I see what they see.Tonight, they bring me to her.Not the Hollow Queen. Not yet.The little wolf.Adira sleeps in her chamber, one hand on the golden wolf’s shoulder. His breath is slow, deep, the rhythm of a beast that has forgotten what running feels like. But I know the truth under the stillness—the strain in the tendons, the coil in the heart. He is obedient, yes. Loyal, yes. But only because my leash is tight.A leash can strangle as well as guide.I slip into the room withou
Rejected By The Alpha, Desired By The Immortal King THE WOLF WHO KNEELS
POV: AdiraIt begins with a word.Not a shout. Not a command barked across a training ring. A small word, almost tender.“Come.”Kade’s wolf lifts his head from the rug and obeys.He shouldn’t. Every line of him says so—the tight quiver in his shoulders, the flick of an ear toward the door as if the night beyond might offer him another choice, the growl that never forms. But the sound dies in his throat, swallowed by something colder than obedience and older than fear.He pads across the floorboards, claws ticking soft against wood, and sits at my knees. I thread my fingers into his ruff. Thick, warm, alive.Mine.“Good,” I murmur, as if praise were a blessing instead of another hook.He leans into my hand because he must. I feel the tremor beneath his skin, the one that says no. The magic that answers yes.Erik keeps his promises.I hadn’t expected that at first. I expected rot, the taste of dirt, the horror of bargains that never finish taking. And there is rot in him, yes, hunger i
Rejected By The Alpha, Desired By The Immortal King EYES FROM THE SKY
POV: SeleneThe Mirror of Threads was not still tonight.It pulsed — slow, relentless — as if it shared a heartbeat with something far below the mortal sky.I stood alone in the Chamber of Looms. Even the high moons beyond Solara’s glass ribs seemed to hold their breath, their silver faces dimming in anticipation. I felt it before I saw it — a tightening in the weave, the threads whispering in a tongue older than the gods themselves.Something inevitable was about to happen.I touched the water.The world below bled into view.---POV: ArayaThe courtyard smelled of wet stone and pine. Torches guttered in the wind, molten light spilling across Dorian’s face as he circled me.“Again,” he said.Sweat clung to my neck, my lungs burned, my knuckles ached — still he pressed harder. Ever since Fate’s voice split the sky, his strikes had come sharper, his parries closer to skin.Nyxara’s voice coiled like smoke in my thoughts:He’s fighting you and himself.I lunged. He caught my wrist, spun
Rejected By The Alpha, Desired By The Immortal King The Kiss That Burns
POV: ARAYAThe courtyard was breathing.Not with wind. Not with life.But with that slow, predator rhythm a heart takes before a strike.Shadows pooled in the corners. Moonlight spilled silver across the stones like it had fallen only for us.I should have been asleep.Instead, I was here — palms raw, knuckles aching — facing the man who tore me apart and rebuilt me with every clash.Dorian.His blade caught the moonlight like it wanted to swallow it whole.“Again,” he ordered, voice low, uncompromising.I rolled my shoulders, ignoring the way my pulse jumped at the sound. The Hollowflame stirred under my skin, restless, waiting.We clashed.Steel sang sharp between us. His strikes were precise — reminders that if he wanted to hurt me, he could. I met each one, refusing to give ground, refusing to let him see the way my chest tightened every time he stepped inside my guard.Nyxara’s voice curled in my head like smoke: He’s fighting you and himself.I blocked, twisted, caught his wrist
Rejected By The Alpha, Desired By The Immortal King HUNGER IN THE DARK
POV: DorianThe forest wasn’t sleeping tonight.It was holding its breath.Even in the stillness, I felt the pulse beneath the earth—the subtle pressure that says predators are moving. Not prey. Not an accident. Purpose.For days, the signs had been bleeding through the borders:Branches snapped at the wrong angles.Pawprints too deep for deer, too light for bears.The metallic tang of copper and old blood carried on the wind.Rogues. The kind that don’t just attack. The kind that watch, learn, and wait for you to slip.Tonight, someone had given them that moment.I caught her scent halfway to the north watchtower.Sandalwood smouldered low, like a hearth fire burning through the night. Honeyed embers, sweet enough to draw you close. Wild moonflower, fleeting and untamed.And that last note. That dangerous, divine edge that made my wolf bristle because it didn’t belong to this plane at all.Araya.She wasn’t on patrol. I’d checked. Which meant she wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near t
Rejected By The Alpha, Desired By The Immortal King EMBERS BETWEEN BLADES
POV: ArayaThe echo of Fate’s voice still lingered in my bones.Even hours later, it felt like carrying the aftershock of a storm through my marrow—every breath sharp, every heartbeat too loud. The Hollowflame inside me was restless, snapping against my ribs like it wanted to burn through skin.So I did the only thing I knew.I trained.The courtyard stones were slick from morning rain, cold beneath my bare feet. Dawn hadn’t broken fully yet; the horizon was a smear of indigo and violet, the kind of light that makes shadows feel closer than they should.Dorian was already there.Sword in hand. Coat discarded. The faint sheen of sweat on his throat told me he’d been at it long before I woke.He didn’t greet me.Just tossed me a practice blade, steel ringing against my palm.“Again,” he said.We moved.Not the careful drills of yesterday. Sharper. Faster. The kind of pace meant to strip you bare and see what you’re made of. His strikes bit at me, forcing me to bend, twist, and feel the
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