Semua Bab Taken by the Herd King: Bab 1 - Bab 7

I stand at the edge of the clearing where the moonlight stitches silver seams through the dense canopy, tracing the worn scars of the land. My breath comes slow and steady, each exhale a ghost in the cool night air.The ground is harsh, unforgiving beneath my bare feet—a tremor of power coursing through the roots, the soil, and into my bones.I run my hands through my hair, missing my horns that should crest from my skull. Once a permanent fixture on my head, now they only appear under the full moon.I was born to rule my kingdom. Now I wear my exile like a second skin I cannot shed.I raise my arms and close my eyes, letting the humid night settle around me. The wind lifts my hair, brushing gentle fingers across my skin. My muscles are taut, like springs pulled to their snapping point and ready to unleash the raw strength dwelling deep within.I am Darius, the Herd King, ruler of a realm lost to curse and rot. I’ve reigned over a kingdom, broken bones, bled and burned. But I’ve never

The gas station appears just as the needle on my fuel gauge dips into the red.My stomach grumbles, but I’m pretty sure there’s no actual food to be found here. It’s the kind of place that looks like it exists only to sell gas, cigarettes, and stale coffee.A single pump leans against a cracked slab of pavement, and a neon OPEN sign flickers in the window.I pull in and kill the engine. The silence is so thick it makes my ears ring.Inside, the air smells like old gum and gasoline. The walls are lined with dusty candy and faded postcards. A man stands behind the counter—middle-aged, flannel shirt half-buttoned, eyes tired but curious.“Afternoon,” he says. His voice is slow, stretched out like the rest of this place.“Hi,” I say. “Can I get thirty on pump one?”He nods, rings me up. As he hands back my change, I unfold my map and lay it on the counter between us.“Do you know how far I am from Hucow Hollow?”His hand pauses mid-air. His eyes narrow.“Huco—what?”I tap the map. “Here.

I drive pass a barbershop with a spinning red-and-white pole, and a thrift store with mannequins posed and draped in vintage fashion.Then I see it—a stone building with ivy curling up its sides. The sign out front reads: Hadley Township Public Library. The windows are dark, but the sign on the door is flipped to OPEN.I park half a block away and lock the car out of habit. Rex sits in the passenger seat, wilted but defiant.The bell above the door chimes as I step inside. The scent of old paper and lemon polish hits me like a wave. There’s something comforting in it.It’s quiet. Not silent, but close. Dust motes float in shafts of light slanting through stained-glass windows at the back. Rows of books stretch out like narrow hallways, dim and waiting.Behind a wide oak desk, a woman looks up. She’s maybe in her sixties, hair pulled into a bun so tight it gives me a headache just looking at it. She wears a buttoned cardigan the color of dusty rose and has the kind of sharp eyes that c

He's tall and unapologetically masculine. His shirtsleeves are rolled up to his elbows, broad forearms flexing as he drives a nail into the wooden beam with deliberate force. His jeans are worn and fit his toned legs like they were tailored just for him. There’s a tool belt slung low on his hips.I stop a few feet away, unsure if I should call out.He senses me before I speak.His head turns slowly, eyes locking with mine.And something shifts in the air. While the birds are singing, the silence between us deepens. My skin prickles.He’s... beautiful.Not in any way I can rationalize. There’s something about him that defies explanation. His face is hard angles and dusky shadows, hair dark and tousled. His gaze is molten steel—cool on the surface, but something dangerous swirls just beneath.“Hello.” I say, my voice smaller than I intend.He doesn’t respond right away. Just studies me. Like he’s trying to figure out what I’m doing here.“Elunara,” he finally says.The sound of my name