Valeria Mary StormThe clearing smelled like old earth, pine resin, and the sharp metallic tang of anticipation. Moonlight poured over the stone circle like liquid silver, turning everything ghostly and sacred. Four elders stood at the four cardinal points—gray-robed, faces carved from decades of pack secrets. Their eyes reflected the full moon, pale and unblinking.I stood in the center, barefoot on the cool flagstone altar, wearing nothing but the sheer white ceremonial shift that clung to my damp skin. It was so thin I could feel every shift of air against my nipples, every breath making the fabric whisper over my thighs.My alphas—Lorenzo, Vincenzo, Valentino—formed a loose triangle around me. Shirtless, barefoot, black ritual pants slung low on their hips. Their tattoos gleamed faintly under the moon: matching thorn-and-rose sigils curling over their hearts, down their ribs, disappearing beneath waistbands. Identical in build, but each carried his own flavor of danger.Lorenzo’s
Last Updated : 2026-02-11 Read more