All Chapters of Wolf’s Bane and Roses 🌹 : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The hall was silent, except for Roses’ soft whimpers.Nightbane’s gaze never left me. His wolf—weak, dyin, still managed to claw through his eyes, burning red like a wound that refused to heal.“Fel,” he breathed. Just one word, but it shattered the walls I’d built.I staggered to my feet, clutching Roses. “What are you doing here?” My voice was raw, breaking. I handed Roses to my mother and clutched my chest, “You’re not supposed to—”“I told you,” he cut me off, his tone like stone. “I would find you.”The Fox Queen stiffened, her arms tightening protectively around Roses. Her sharp eyes flicked between us, reading everything unspoken.“You don’t belong here,” I said, though the words trembled in my throat. My body betrayed me, the bond pulling, screaming, tearing. “This is the Fox Kingdom. You can’t—”“I don’t care,” he growled. His gaze flicked briefly to Roses, then back to me. “I thought she was gone. Dead. But she’s alive. You both are.” His voice cracked. “You have no idea w

My wolf surged the moment her mouth opened to me, the taste of her shattering every wall I had built. She was fire, anger, sweetness, and home all tangled together, and I was starving for her.Her lips burned against mine, her hatred searing just as much as her need, and gods…, welcomed both. Because she was here. Because she hadn’t truly severed the bond no matter what words she had whispered into the stream.I crushed her against me, my body trembling as if afraid she might vanish. My hands spanned her hips, memorizing the curve, the warmth, the tremor in her body that betrayed her own surrender.Mine, my wolf howled, half-risen, half-broken, clawing for her. The beast inside me, weak for so long, clawed at my chest with renewed life at the taste of her, at the feel of her pressed tight against me. Her blood had stirred him. But her touch? Her kiss? That resurrected him.And yet, guilt dragged at me, even in the haze of heat. I pulled back just enough to see her face. Her lips were

NYXORA The shards of the mirror still glistened at my feet, tiny slivers of my own face staring back at me. Mocking me.“The true fox princess.”The words wouldn’t leave me. They echoed in my head like bells tolling for my funeral.I sat there in silence for a long while, blood dripping from my knuckles, chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. My rage trembled inside me, wild, dangerous, hungry.“She thought she had won” I breathed.“She think because she had the wolves whispering her name and the foxes calling her princess that she had stripped me of everything.”But she was wrong.I wasn’t a woman who accepted defeat. I was a woman who burned the ones who stood in my way.I stood slowly, wiping the blood from my fist across my gown, smearing the fabric with dark stains. A queen’s gown ruined, but it didn’t matter. None of it mattered, except her.“Felyndra.”I hissed her name, the syllables sharp on my tongue.The guards outside my chamber jumped when I pulled the door open,

AURONThe smell of smoke had a way of clinging. It burrowed under skin, into hair, into the throat. It never left, not even after rivers of blood and weeks of battle. Tonight it pressed down like a curse, curling from the ruins of the vanguard village we had reclaimed. Wolves dragged Bowman’s corpses into heaps, torches cracking them to ash. But for every body we burned, Bowman made sure to leave us ten more.He was everywhere. A shadow with teeth. And with him was my sister, Snow. Swollen with his baby.I saw her again tonight.Not the sister who used to climb apple trees and smear jam on her cheeks, but someone sharpened by grief into a blade. Bowman had wrapped her in his cause as tightly as he’d wrapped his cloak. She stood in their war council like she belonged there, silver braid coiled like a crown. She didn’t look at me. She didn’t need to. I could feel when her gaze slid past my shoulder; I knew the way she could still read me …. like an old bone.My throat tightened. Nails b

The Fox court glittered with gold and deceit. I had learned to stop staring at the jeweled mosaics on the ceiling or the foxfire lanterns in the corridors. Pretty things here were dangerous things.That morning, a maid came. Her name was Mara.She bowed low, her hands cradling a small wooden chest, lacquered red and carved with fox sigils.“From the Queen’s cousin in the South,” she said. “A token of allegiance.”Her eyes didn’t meet mine. Her voice was too smooth.I looked at the chest. “What’s inside?” I asked.“A charm for protection, Princess.” She answered.I felt Roses stir at my hip, wrapped against me in her sling. Her tiny fists clenched as if she knew something I didn’t. A faint glow around my neck gave a faint pulse, like a heartbeat answering hers. I was told it was a pearl and it could pulse anywhere in my body.Mara stepped forward. Too close.And then, Roses cried. Not a soft whimper but a shrill, panicked scream. The pearl flared, white-hot light spilling from it, so b