Semua Bab The Freak Is The Mate Of The Lycan: Bab 71 - Bab 80

Ares had left an hour ago to inspect the festival grounds, pressing a kiss to my forehead and promising to return before the first horn blew.​“I’ll send Wendy,” he had said, his voice a low rumble of contentment. “She’ll want to fuss over you.”​But Wendy hadn’t come.​I frowned, glancing at the heavy wooden clock on the mantel. The breakfast tray sat untouched and cold on the table. It wasn't like her. Wendy was punctual to a fault, usually bursting in with a smile and a chatterbox full of gossip before the sun had fully cleared the horizon.​“Wendy?” I called out, my voice echoing slightly in the large, silent chamber.​Nothing.The keep was chaotic today; the Festival of the Harvest meant extra work for everyone. She was probably stuck in the kitchens, arguing with the cook about the consistency of my morning porridge.​I stood up, the movement stiff. My body still hummed with the afterglow of the night with Ares, singing a low, steady note of satisfaction in my blood. But the si

​The heavy iron bolt of the tower door slid shut with a sound like a guillotine dropping. Thud.​The noise vibrated through the floorboards, signaling the end of the performance. The Harvest Festival was over. The music had stopped. The dancing was done.​And the silence that rushed in to fill the room was deafening.​I stood in the center of the Alpha’s chamber, the emerald green silk of my dress feeling less like a gown and more like a lead weight dragging me down. My skin felt tight, stretched thin over a hollow ache in my chest.​Ares didn't speak immediately. He moved through the room with a restless, prowling energy, checking the window latches, stoking the fire until the flames roared up the chimney, casting long, erratic shadows against the black stone walls.​He was vibrating with tension. He was still hunting. Even here, behind three locks and stone walls, he was hunting the shadow that had slipped into our home and taken Wendy.​“Ares,” I whispered. My voice sounded small,

The glow stayed even after we pulled our hands apart. It beat like a rhythm, alive, buzzing beneath my skin while sinking into my bones.Moira took our hands, tied them tight with a clean cloth strip - her touch steady as she linked us through the hurt. The fabric ran smooth, stitching skin to skin without thread."Speak the words," she commanded.Ares's silver eyes locked onto mine. His voice was steady, resonant. "I bind my blood to yours. My strength to your weakness. My death to your life."My throat was tight, but I forced the words out. "I bind my blood to yours. My heart to your fury. My life to your death."Then it’s over,” Moira said while pulling off the fabric.Ares yanked me close, lips smashing against mine without warning. His kiss took control - rough, hungry - so I just gave in, letting everything else fade away. That connection between us? It locked into place, hard and unbreakable, like hot iron turning solid.When we broke apart, Kael was grinning like an idiot. "Fi

The war horn blasted through the night, a sound so deep and primal it rattled my bones."ARCHERS!" Ares roared, his voice carrying across the battlements like thunder. "NOCK!"A hundred bows creaked in unison, the sound oddly musical against the chaos. I gripped the stone wall, my knuckles white, watching as Tiana's army began to march forward.They moved like a dark tide across the valley, torches blazing, weapons glinting. The ground trembled beneath their synchronized footsteps. There had to be at least five thousand wolves down there. Maybe more.And we had half our force."How many are combat-ready?" I asked Kael, who stood rigid beside me, his jaw clenched so tight I thought his teeth might shatter."Two thousand warriors," he said grimly. "Maybe two thousand five hundred if we count the wounded who can still hold a blade. The rest are in the infirmary, vomiting their guts out or unconscious."Two thousand against five thousand.The math was brutal."LOOSE!" Ares commanded.The

The shadow grew larger.It wasn't just one figure. It was many. They moved as one—a coordinated, lethal unit that flowed through the broken doorway like smoke given form.They weren't dressed in armor. They wore leather and fur, dark as midnight, stitched with symbols I didn't recognize. Ancient symbols that seemed to pulse with their own light.And their eyes.Gods, their eyes.They glowed. Not the normal amber or gold of shifted wolves. These were different—violet, silver, and deep crimson. Colors that shouldn't exist in nature.The first warrior stepped fully into the hall.She was tall—easily six feet—with skin the color of rich mahogany and hair braided with bones and feathers. A massive war axe was slung across her back, the blade etched with runes that seemed to writhe in the firelight.She didn't speak. She just looked at Tiana's mercenaries with the kind of bored contempt you'd give an insect.Then she smiled.It wasn't a nice smile."Kill them," she said simply.The hall eru