All Chapters of Blood ,Fire and Frost: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The cottage smelled of smoke, sweat, and skin. Outside, the marsh lay under a cloak of dense fog, the kind that swallowed sound and blurred the shapes of twisted trees and half-sunken roots. Night insects hummed faintly in the distance, but even they seemed cautious, as though the darkness itself held its breath. Inside, the fire had burned low, casting long, lazy shadows across tangled blankets and tangled bodies. The glow flickered up the walls, catching on bundles of drying herbs, jars of moonroot tincture, and shelves carved directly into the crooked cabin timbers. Every uneven plank and creaking beam seemed to pulse with leftover magic, as if the cottage had witnessed their union and now guarded it. Selene lay at the center, her head on Rowan’s shoulder, his arm heavy and warm around her waist. His heartbeat thudded steady against her cheek, a drum that calmed and roused her at once. On her other side, Lucien reclined w

The council hall still echoed behind them—shouts, crackling spells, the dull thud of staffs striking stone—but the marsh swallowed the noise quickly, as though the world itself wanted to hide their escape. Mist clung to the roots and low-hanging branches, curling around the three figures who fled into the fading darkness.The storm from the night before had left the air charged, thick with the scent of wet earth and disturbed magic. Even the birds stayed silent.They did not wait for the council’s verdict.When Elder Marlowe’s staff struck the stone, Rowan was already moving, his hand gripping Selene’s arm, his voice a low growl in her ear. “Now. Before they bind you.”Lucien fell into step beside them, his coat whispering against the stone floor, silver eyes sharp with satisfaction. “For once, wolf, I agree.”Chaos erupted in the chamber as they fled — witches shouting, sparks of magic flaring, staffs cracking against stone. Selene’

The hollow smelled of sweat and moss, firelight flickering low against broken stone. Selene lay sprawled between them, her chest heaving, her skin flushed. The bond pulsed hot in her veins, her magic crackling faintly in the air as though the world itself thrilled at what they had done.But they were far from finished.---Rowan shifted first, his hand sliding down her stomach, heat blazing into her skin. His amber eyes burned with hunger as he rolled her beneath him, pinning her wrists above her head with one strong hand.“My turn,” he growled, his voice rough, commanding.Selene gasped as his mouth crashed down on hers, teeth scraping, tongue devouring. His other hand gripped her hip, holding her still as he pressed against her with unrelenting force. His control was total, raw, primal — every thrust, every growl a declaration of possession.She cried out, the sound swallowed by his kiss. Her back arched, her body str

The hollow groaned under the weight of encroaching magic long before the witches breached its walls. The air was thick with a pressure that made Selene’s ears ring, a storm coiling tight inside the stone ribs of the ruin. Moss trembled on the floor. Dust sifted from the cracks overhead. Outside, voices rose and fell like a tide of knives slicing through dawn’s half-light. The runes her grandmother once carved into the stones—protections older than the marsh itself—flickered weakly, their blue glow stuttering as foreign spells pressed against them. Selene felt every impact inside her bones, a pulsing ache that made her breath come faster. Then— The hollow shook with the witches’ chanting. Runes of fire seared into the mossy walls, the air thick with smoke and brimstone. Selene’s wards cracked like splintered glass. The sound was deafening, like ice giving way beneath a frozen lake. Selene staggered,

The hollow still smoked with the ghosts of battle. A damp haze clung to the broken stone walls, the remnants of witchfire drifting like fading embers caught in the slow breath of the marsh. Roots still twisted and twitched where spells had torn through the earth, some of them blackened, others glowing faintly with residual magic. The air tasted of ash, salt, and something metallic—raw power settling back into the soil. Selene sat on the moss, trembling. Her legs were unsteady, her breath tight. Her hands, still faintly glowing with the last traces of fire and frost, hovered in front of her. They didn’t look like her hands at all—they looked like artifacts of something older, something dangerous. She stared at them in horror, flexing her fingers as though they belonged to someone else. “I didn’t mean to,” she whispered, voice breaking. “I didn’t even know I could—” The words disso