All Chapters of Love is not for the Wolfless : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

My ribs throb with every breath as I walk through the pack grounds three days after the ambush.Pete wanted me to rest, but I can't stay in that room anymore, can't stand the way he watches me like I'm a puzzle he's trying to solve. The sun hangs low and weak in the sky, doing nothing to chase away the cold that's settled into my bones since the forest. I wrap my arms around myself, feeling the tight bandages Pete personally applied to my torso, his fingers so gentle it made my skin crawl.Something is wrong with him.I've tried to convince myself I'm paranoid, that the mate bond wouldn't lie, that Cicilia wouldn't purr contentedly in my mind if our mate was dangerous. But I can't shake the memory of those wolves retreating at his command. The ambush wasn't random. It was orchestrated.The pack grounds sprawl before me like a small town, houses clustered around the main pack house where Dante rules. Normally, Friday afternoons buzz with activity, wolves training in the yard, children

The great hall blazes with torchlight and the smell of roasted meat. I stand at the entrance in a gown Pete had delivered this morning, deep green velvet that probably cost more than most pack members earn in a year. The bodice is too tight, the sleeves too long, and I feel like a child playing dress-up in clothes meant for someone else. Someone worthy of being Luna. "Smile," Pete whispers against my ear, his hand firm on my lower back. "They're watching." I stretch my lips into something resembling happiness as we enter. The hall erupts in cheers, fists pounding on wooden tables, voices raised in celebration. Long tables line the stone walls, laden with platters of venison, roasted fowl, fresh bread, and flagons of mead. The pack has spared no expense for their future Alpha's engagement. Dante stands at the head table, his goblet raised high. "To my son and his mate!" His voice booms across the hall. "May t

The pack house sleeps under the blood moon's crimson gaze.Pete slips from his chambers long past midnight, boots silent on stone floors as he navigates corridors he's memorized since childhood. Two guards stand post at the main entrance, but he takes the servants' passage, the one his father doesn't know he discovered years ago. The heavy wooden door groans softly as he pushes through the cold.His breath mists in the air as he hurries across the grounds toward the forest's edge. Behind him, torches flicker in windows, but no one watches. They're all drunk on mead and celebration, stuffed with roasted meat, dreaming of the glorious future their Alpha's son will bring.Fools.The abandoned shrine sits deep in the woods, a crumbling stone structure older than Fang territory itself. Most pack members avoid it, whispering about curses and restless spirits. Pete discovered it at fifteen while tracking a wounded deer, and he's been coming her

Pete finds me in the garden three days after the celebration.I'm sitting on a stone bench near the herb plots, watching frost kill the last of the autumn flowers. The air smells like dying things and wood smoke, and I'm grateful for the cold because it gives me an excuse for the numbness spreading through my limbs."There you are," he says, his voice warm with affection that feels rehearsed. "I've been looking everywhere."I don't turn around. "I needed quiet.""You've needed a lot of quiet lately." He sits beside me, close enough that our thighs touch. Spark flares at the contact, sending heat through my veins that I don't want to feel. "Are you having second thoughts?""No," I lie, still staring at the dying flowers.Pete's hand finds my chin, turning my face toward him with gentle insistence. His amber eyes search mine, and I see calculation behind the concern. "You can tell me anything, Roselyn. We're mates. There

The wild lands begin where civilization ends.Stark crosses the boundary at midnight, leaving vampire territory behind for the lawless expanse between kingdoms. The forest here grows thick and twisted, ancient trees blocking out even the blood moon's light. No patrols guard these borders, no laws govern the creatures who make their home in darkness.Perfect.He's been walking for three hours when he smells them. old blood, and the sharp musk of wolves who've abandoned their packs. Rogues. At least six, maybe more, moving through the trees with predatory intent.Stark doesn't slow his pace. He has no interest in fighting, but he won't run either. Running implies fear, and he left that emotion back at the castle along with everything else that made him civilized."Well, well," a voice calls from the shadows. "What do we have here?"Five wolves emerge from the darkness, circling Stark with practiced efficiency. They're lea