Semua Bab Blood And Desire: Bab 71 - Bab 80

A week had passed since the physician’s last visit, and the Luna’s chambers had slowly begun to feel less like a prison and more like a gilded cage, a strange, fragile sanctuary. Scarlett paced slowly in front of the open balcony doors, the mid-day sun rays pouring in like molten gold, warming the stone floor and catching the silver strands of her hair that had grown wild and untamed. The light hit her full in the face, making her squint, but she didn’t move away from it. She craved the warmth, the proof that she was still alive, still breathing, still here.Her mind was just as scattered as her hair—jagged thoughts tumbling over one another, refusing to settle.The physician was due again today. Scarlett could barely sit still waiting for her. She hadn’t thrown up in five days. The fever had finally broken four nights ago, leaving her drenched in sweat and shivering for hours before the shaking stopped. The aches in her lower back and the bruises from her days in the dungeon had fade

Scarlett’s breath hitched, she shifted her gaze, tears spilling over. “I don’t know what I want,” she admitted, voice breaking. “I thought… I thought if I carried his child, I would have power. Leverage. A way to survive. But now… now I’m just scared. Scared of him. Scared of what it means. Scared that if I keep it, I’ll never be free. Scared that if I don’t, I’ll never forgive myself.”The physician’s expression softened further. “Those are the right fears to have,” she said. “They mean you are thinking clearly, even through the terror. And that is more than most women in your position manage.” She paused, letting the silence settle. “We wait, you will decide. Not today. Not while you are still healing. But soon.”She watched Scarlett for several seconds without speaking. Then she rose from the edge of the bed, movements slow and deliberate so as not to startle the already-fragile Omega. She crossed the short distance and gently caught Scarlett’s wrist mid-pace. Scarlett flinched at

His mind went back in the crypt beneath his own castle, standing before Imogen’s sealed sarcophagus while the elders chanted the old words of farewell. Back to the rooftop where he had lifted his son to the dying sun and felt—for one fleeting moment—the possibility of peace. Back to the staircase landing where Nerina had looked at him with eyes full of pain and accusation and walked away without letting him touch her.Tap… tap… tap…He had lost Imogen twice now to Winter—once as a living woman when he had taken her as tribute. He had lost her again when her body was returned to him like a taunt, a discarded gift wrapped in flowers and silk. And now he sat here—Alpha of Torrine, husband to a Luna who no longer trusted his touch—planning a war he was no longer certain he could win. And every day that passed, the child—Winter’s son—grew stronger, more guarded, more untouchable.The figurine turned between his fingers. The tiny carved face stared up at him, defiant, unchanging.He had com

Skye stood unclad on the threshold leading to the balcony, overlooking the outer border of the castle. One palm pressed flat against the cold stone door frame, supporting most of his weight; the other hand dangled loose at his side, fingers slightly curled as though still remembering the grip of a sword long discarded. The pre-dawn air was sharp and biting, carrying the scent of frost and distant pine, but he did not care. His skin prickled, raised in gooseflesh, yet he made no move to cover himself or step back into the warmth of the chamber behind him.The sun was just rising from the horizon, a faint bruise of rose and gold still hidden below the jagged line of the mountains. The sky above was the deep, bruised indigo of a bruise not yet fully formed. Stars still clung stubbornly to the west, refusing to yield.His eyes looked outward—toward the frost-rimed battlements, the shadowed forest beyond, the faint ribbon of road that wound toward Oshea—but his mind had gone. Gone back. Ba

Marissa watched every motion, the anger in her gaze slowly giving way to something quieter—hurt, perhaps, or worry she didn’t want to name. “You’ve been up for hours,” she said, not moving from her spot. “You didn’t sleep.”Skye paused with one boot half-laced. He didn’t turn. “I slept enough.”“That’s not an answer.”He finished lacing the boot with a sharp tug, then straightened. Finally he looked at her—really looked. The irritation in his eyes softened for half a second, replaced by something rawer, more exhausted.“Go back to bed, Marissa,” he said, voice quieter now but no less firm. “It’s early.”She didn’t move. “You’re shutting me out again.”Skye exhaled through his nose. He ran a hand through his silver hair, fingers catching in the tangles. “I’m not shutting you out,” he said. “I’m just… thinking.”“About Scarlett.” It wasn’t a question and Skye’s jaw tightened and he remained quiet.“Skye?” she called out to him, voice low but laced with disbelief. She had not moved from