تسجيل الدخولBeatrice’s POVJagdschloss Glienicke stood before me, its French Baroque grandeur a slap in Velan’s undead face. Prince Carl von Preussen snagged it in 1859 as a summer palace for his son—Velan Preussianheardt himself.Now, it sat smugly in wolf territory, and I couldn’t help but smirk imagining Velan grinding his fangs over it. Principal Dietrich had picked this spot out of pure spite, I’d bet, a subtle knife twist, just his style. Not that he’d admit it; he played neutral, but I saw the mean streak twinkle in his eye.“Velan used to own this place?” I muttered, clutching Charles’s arm as we stepped into the grand foyer, my sweaty hands sticking to his navy sleeve, his burgundy handkerchief a perfect match to my red silk dress.“Indeed,” Charles said, his voice dripping with amusement. “Bought by his father, then remodeled by Ferdinand von Arnim in full Baroque splendor. Now, thanks to Principal Dietrich, it belongs to the wolves.”“Think Velan’s screaming inside?” I smirked, my
Beatrice’s POVI stood in my apartment back at the Giraffe nr 13, staring at the phone in my hand as Linda’s name flashed across the screen. She’d already texted me a few times today, trying to bridge the gap between Amanda and me.“Beatrice, come on, I know you’re home!” Linda’s voice was lighthearted but pleading. “Just hear me out okay?”I sighed, rolling my eyes, even though I couldn’t suppress a smile. “Allright Lin” I muttered under my breath.“Let’s go to Viktoriapark for a picnic!” Linda continued, her excitement practically radiating through the phone. “I’ll bring Amanda too. Pretty please?”I hesitated. What if Amanda hated me now for trying to steal her lunch? Aka Alpha Brandon.“You have Charles now, remember?” Linda reminded me, as if reading my thoughts. “It’ll be just us girls. A girls’ get-together, free from all the crap that’s happened recently.”I still wasn’t sure. But honestly, the idea of getting away from everything for a bit sounded nice. Plus, Principal Dietr
Luke’s POVI leaned against a pillar in Heinrich’s Mansion carefully studying Angelica’s father.The engagement dinner’s echoes fading, adull murmur of conversation still drifting through the banquet hall. The chandeliers overhead gleamed, the polished floors reflecting the golden glow of candlelight. Marc stood nearby, sipping a drink, his wolf scent sharp a blend of sweat and cologne that barely masked the underlying musk of the pack. He was watching me, waiting for my next Alpha move. I had to play my cards right.Time to deepen the lie.“Angelica’s a wild one,” I said, smirking as I swirled the amber liquid in my glass, watching the way Marc’s eyes flickered with interest. “Had her begging me last night.”Marc raised a brow, his grin slow and knowing. “Yeah? I can imagine those innocent deer eyes are all deception, they all beg in the end.”“She’s so flexible Angelica,” I lied, my voice smooth and controlled, the perfect mask. “Can’t resist a real wolf.”He laughed, loud and ro
Beatrice’s POVWe left the historical and archaeological Pergamon Museum behind, stepping out into the cool evening air.Dust of ancient artifacts clung to my skin, heavy and old. I let out a breath, shaking it off.Charles walked beside me, his arm brushing mine as we headed toward the Alte Nationalgalerie. His arm felt so secure and protective.How could I be so lucky? It felt like my dream would shatter every moment and Hans, Dieter, Victor or Velan would snatch my happiness away.Maybe it was like my father said, no one could love a hybrid with a cursed blood like me?I felt that no matter how hard I tried I always fell short. Isabell was always the favoured one, praised for everything she did and turned out a sociopath. “Almost closing time,” he said, glancing at the dimming sky. “Thought we’d hit the gallery next.””What’s wrong princess, you look so gloomy?” I dug my nails harder into his arm, afraid to let go.”I feel paranoid thinking someone will show up and ruin my happine
Beatrice’s POVI stepped onto Gendarmenmarkt, Berlin’s most beautiful square, with Walda hobbling beside me.Twin cathedrals—German and French loomed with their domes, made from grand stone and filled with history.The Konzerthaus sat between them, neoclassical and smug, while posh shops buzzed around us.“Too many tourists,” Walda grumbled, her cane tapping the cobblestones. Her gray hair stuck out like a bird’s nest, eyes sharp despite her wrinkles.I grinned, hauling her bag of candles. “You’re just mad they’re not buying your potions, old witch.”She cackled, loud and raspy. “Potions? Ha! I’d hex their selfie sticks into broomsticks if I could still see straight.”I laughed, warmth blooming in my chest. Walda was cranky, ancient, protective just like my grandma I missed so dearly. “Come on, I need a rug for my apartment. Help me pick.”She squinted at a shop window, all velvet and lace. “A rug? What, to hide your claw marks when you shift?”“Walda!” I swatted her arm, blushing. “N
Angelica’s POVI awoke cradled in Luke’s arms, his warmth enveloping me like a velvet embrace. The air in his Charlottenburg Palace room carried his scent—a deep musky scent, a whisper from the wilderness. My cheek rested against his chest, his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath me.“Good morning, darling,” he murmured, his voice low and rich from sleep. His lips grazed my forehead, tender and claiming.I tilted my gaze to his, offering a soft smile. “Good morning, Luke.” My tone was gentle, though a tremor lingered, as last night still clung to me. It felt unreal.He smiled back, shifting to cradle my face. “You’re exquisite, Angelica.” Then he kissed me, deeply and fervent, his eyes locked onto mine alone. My breath caught, a shiver of desire curling through me. Velan’s gaze was never this focused, always distracted, his fickle nature a guillotine hovering around my neck.I eased back, breathless. “Luke, this feels… unexpected.” My fingers traced his jaw, feeling the faint rough







