All Chapters of Vying For The Alpha's Heart: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

The door to the Beta’s quarters kicked open.Kael didn't use his hands; they were occupied holding Lyra. He walked into the room, kicking the door shut behind him with a heavy thud that shut out the noise of the ruined wedding, the screaming nobles, and the dead assassin.The room was quiet. It was military clean, and had the residue of lonely nights.Lyra stiffened in his arms. Her eyes darted to the bed, or rather, the neatly made military cot in the corner.She remembered the last time she had come looking for him. She remembered the Guest Wing. The rosewater. The sight of him sleeping next to Holly."Put me down," Lyra whispered tightly."Sit," Kael commanded gently.He walked past the bed. He didn't put her on the mattress. He set her down on the sturdy wooden table in the center of the room, brushing aside a stack of patrol rosters."I can stand," Lyra argued, holding the edge of the table. Her hands were shaking."You are bleeding," Kael noted.He stepped back to look at her. H

The Community Stream was usually a place of laughter and gossip, where the pack washed their clothes and their children. But at two in the morning, under the light of a gibbous moon, it was a ribbon of silence that resonated through the dark forest.Lyra needed the silence. She needed the cold.She had fled the Beta’s quarters an hour ago. Not because she wanted to leave Kael, but because the sheer insanity of the events of the day—the wedding, the almost-kiss, the tears, the blood—sat on her skin like a suffocating layer. She felt dirty. She felt overwhelmed.She had stripped off the ruined brown dress and left it in a heap on the grassy bank.Now, she stood chest-deep in the slow-moving current. The water was freezing, biting at her skin, numbing the bruises from her fight with Holly.She dunked her head under. The world went mute. The cold shock cleared her mind, washing away the smell of rosewater and fear.She surfaced, gasping, pushing her wet hair back from her face. She shive

The sky above Ashwood Castle looked like a bruise.The moon was swollen to twice its normal size, bathed in a deep, rusty, burnt orange. The light it cast turned the grey stones of the courtyard into a landscape of shadows and blood-red highlights.Something felt wrong in the air. The wolves could feel it; it was like a prickling on the back of their necks, a low hum in their teeth. The Blood Moon was not just a celestial event; it was a catalyst. It was the night when the veil between the wolf spirit and the human body was thinnest.The Great Hall’s doors were thrown open. The dais had been moved outside, under the open sky, as tradition demanded.The Council Elders sat in high-backed chairs, looking like grim reapers in their ceremonial grey robes. Elder Silas gripped his cane as his milky eyes scanned the crowd. Elder Varn checked his pocket watch every thirty seconds. Elder Mara looked bored, tapping a long fingernail against the armrest.The pack was gathered. Hundreds of them. T

The morning sun hit the high towers of Ashwood Castle, but for the first time in months, it didn't reveal cracks, soot, or enemy armies. It revealed banners of deep forest green and gold snapping in the crisp wind.Inside the Master Suite, which had been reclaimed, scrubbed of rosewater, and filled with fresh wildflowers, Eltonia stood before a full-length mirror.She held her breath.The reflection staring back at her was a stranger.Gone was the grey wool of the penitent. Gone was the brown linen of the servant.She was wearing gold.It was a gown of heavy, liquid silk that shimmered like molten sunlight with every breath she took. The bodice was fitted, embroidered with tiny golden leaves that trailed down the skirt in a flowy vine. It was regal and radiant. It was the color of the honey-drop Oreon had given her eleven years ago."Stop holding your breath," a voice chided from behind her. "You’ll pass out before you get the crown, and I am not dragging you down the aisle. That dres

As the door to the Alpha Suite clicked shut, the heavy bolt slid home with a sound of finality.The room was bathed in the soft, flickering light of the hearth fire. The massive four-poster bed—the one Philia had stolen, the one Oreon had been exiled from—stood in the center of the room, dressed in fresh linens that smelled of nothing but home.Oreon stood with his back to the door. He was still wearing his coronation finery, the black tunic unlaced at the throat. He looked at Eltonia.She stood by the bed, the gold dress shimmering in the firelight. The crown of the Luna was still on her head."We are alone," Oreon murmured, almost roughly."No guards," Eltonia whispered; she couldn't stop her hands trembling slightly as she touched the bedpost. "No Council… or assassins.""Just us."Oreon crossed the room. He moved with a slow intent that made Eltonia’s breath quicken. He stopped in front of her. He reached up and gently lifted the crown from her head, then set it on the bedside ta