บททั้งหมดของ CHASING MONSTERS: บทที่ 91 - บทที่ 100

Xavier sent the guards on their way, telling them the mages could expect him shortly. He pulled Sophie close, his hands resting at her hip. “I will introduce you to the mages properly. They raised me, and I want them to see us together” “Yes,” Sophie said softly, warmth rising in her chest. He led her into his private chambers, where a deep stone bath waited, steam curling over the water. “Come,” he said. “Let me wash you.” Sophie stepped down into the water. It was warm and scented faintly of cedar. She leaned against the bath wall as he ran a soapy cloth over her body, slow and deliberate. His hand wandered lower, fingers sliding between her legs, touching that sweet spot again. She moaned in delight as pleasure rippled through her body. Her breath caught. “Oh, oh, what is that you do down there?” she whimpered. “That’s your clitoris, my sweet,” he said, voice dark velvet, as he sucked the spot on her neck where his mark had formed. “I like it,” she said shyly. “Only like?”

Fate. Sophie liked the way that sounded. After a lifetime never knowing love, she now had the King, a rare Northern Wolf, like her. A half lycan, fire-wolf whose presence burned through her defenses. But with threats looming from every direction, their story was far from a happily-ever-after. “We need to prepare immediately,” Xavier said. He stood at the head of the council table, firelight glinting off his hair. “The borders are secure,” Ronan offered, lazily tapping a dagger. “After the last hunter incursion, nobody’s dumb enough to try again.” “Double it,” Xavier ordered. “I want every patrol twice over.” “Where do we attack?” Sophie asked. “We can’t fight ghosts.” Amara, her dark eyes shadowed beneath her hood, stepped forward. “We’ve seen movement in the swamps. An old hag hiding a power that’s truly dark. If we’re right, it will be ghosts we’re fighting.” “That’s the first place we look,” Fintan agreed, his voice like gravel. “All signs point there.” “Surely they can’t

(Sophies Pov) The fog closed in after they left. No frogs. No night birds. Just the shack breathing and Mama Delphine humming nonsense to the bones she kept hung in strings over the window. My mate mark ached like a bruise under my skin, fresh, pulsing, stubborn. Every few heartbeats it tugged me toward the path Xavier had taken, like a hook in the throat. I pushed back. The binding on me held. Whatever trick Mama had laid sat on my skin like wet linen, heavy, clinging, patient. Jax stood near the open door, shoulder to the frame, staring into the fog. He hadn’t said a word since the King vanished with Marie. His jaw worked, hands opening and closing like he wanted to hit something and couldn’t find a face he’d survive punching. I stood there stupidly, held solid by Mama Delphine’s magical binding. Mama Delphine clucked her tongue and shuffled past us to the little crate by the wall. She plucked up a fat hen, whispered against its feathers, then, quick, wrung its neck with a sharp

(Ronans Pov) Ronan was cursing his luck, frustration simmering. He had escaped the castle walls. The heavy boredom inside had been worsened by the King's absence. To drive away his restlessness, he had run the perimeter with the guards, barking orders and kicking the lazy ones back into shape. That was when he’d found her. The human. At first, he thought she was just another foolish hunter sneaking too close to wolf nation land. She’d tried to hide her scent under wolf musk. He had sensed something about her; his interest had spiked, but he had brushed it aside, or tried to. In the dungeons, when he grabbed her arm to haul her upright, the spark had hit him with force. Real heat. Real bond. The skin beneath his fingers burned like she’d branded him. The tingles shot straight up his arm, settling somewhere behind his ribs. His wolf howled once inside him, wild and certain. He’d let go fast, masking the shock that trembled through him, pretending nothing had happened. But he kn

I hit the stairs two at a time and pushed through to the healer’s wing. The place smelled of spirits and boiled herbs. Jars rattled on their hooks with every raised voice. Servants pretended to work while keeping their backs to the walls. Everyone was waiting for the next mistake. Xavier stood sentry over the table. He’d wrapped the corpse himself, tucking the blankets in tight. Marie lay there, skin dull, mouth open. He stroked her hair as if it mattered. It shouldn’t have. To him, it did. “Where were you?” he snapped, not turning. “Finding this,” I said, lifting the cloak. Sophie’s. “Your mate’s scent.” He looked up sharply. Confusion flickered over his face, then faded. He reached out, took the cloak, and pressed it tightly to his mouth, drawing in a breath. Some of the madness eased from his eyes. “You remember her,” I said, quietly. “Sophie.” He blinked slowly. “Later,” he murmured, not to me. “She’s sleeping. Don’t wake her.” Amara and Fintan hovered near the arch. The mag