Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 31 - Chapitre 40

CORALINA'S POVI have been calling the Nightshade Manor as my home for almost a month now. And yet, no other room of this giant, stone-carved manor has felt so intense or awe-inspiring as the giant ballroom does tonight. Maybe, it's the effect of the concentrated, lethal power of the guests waiting inside, but the moment I cross the threshold, I immediately get a jolt of sensory overload. The air is thick with the scent of expensive ambergris and the floral sharpness of lilies, layered over the low, constant chime of crystal flutes meeting in toasts. Hundreds of candles flicker in the massive chandeliers above, casting a restless, golden light that dances over the bared shoulders and sharp lapels of the Far South elite.​I stand at the top of the grand staircase, my hand resting lightly on the charcoal sleeve of Clyde’s tuxedo. Every gaze in the room is like a scorching, laser beam of scrutiny that feels like a thousand needles pricking at my skin at once. These are all members of

CORALINA'S POVThe silence that follows my retort is thick, heavy with the weight of the Nightshade’s collective judgment. I can feel the heat of Clyde’s body behind me, a dark, immovable wall that anchors me to the floor. I don’t look at him, but I don’t have to; the sudden, sharp drop in the room’s temperature tells me his Alpha aura is no longer merely present—it is active.Dianne’s fan has stopped completely. Her knuckles are white where she grips the delicate lace. She looks at me, then at the silent socialites, searching for the laughter she had so carefully cultivated only moments ago. She finds none. The guests aren't laughing anymore; they are watching the Shadow Alpha’s hand, which is still splayed across my waist in a gesture so possessive it’s a declaration of war.“You’re very bold for someone with such a… humble start,” Dianne says, her voice trembling with a jagged edge of humiliation. “But boldness doesn’t buy you a place in our history books, Coralina. You are a footn

CORALINA'S POVThe gold leaf on the ceiling seems to sweat under the heat of a thousand high-intensity bulbs, but the temperature in the room plummets the moment the double doors at the far end of the hall groan open. It isn’t a person who enters; it is an atmosphere. A gravity.The Everest Patriarch doesn’t walk so much as he claims the floor beneath his feet. He is a titan carved from granite and tailored in wool that costs more than my entire education. His hair is a shock of silver, his face a map of ruthless victories. The music doesn't stop, but it loses its spirit, thinning out into a background hum as the guests part like the Red Sea.Clyde’s hand on my back stiffens. The heat of his palm turns into a rigid, defensive line.The Patriarch stops before us. His eyes are not kind. They are two cold, blue stones that weigh my worth in a fraction of a second and find me wanting. He ignores me at first, focusing entirely on his son."Clyde," the old man says. His voice is a low rumbl

CORALINA'S POV The air in the garden is heavy with the scent of wet stone and Maximus’s desperation. He doesn't leave; he lingers on the edge of the moonlight, his shadow stretching toward me like a jagged claw. He realizes he has lost the physical struggle, so he reaches for the only weapon he has left: the poison of a "warning.""You think you’ve won a prize, Coralina?" Maximus says, his voice cracking with a frantic, ugly sort of pity. He steps closer again, but this time he keeps his hands to himself. "You have no idea who you’re sleeping next to. My uncle didn't become the head of the Everest empire by being a saint. Ask him about the 2018 acquisition. Ask him about what happened to the families who stood in his way in the northern territories. He’s a black hole, Coral. He consumes everything that gets too close to his orbit."I keep my spine straight, though a small, cold shiver attempts to snake down my neck."Don't say I didn't warn you," Maximus sneers, his eyes darting to t

CORALINA'S POV The violins reach a fever pitch, the high, crying notes of the strings twisting through the air like a physical thread, binding us together. The scent of him—that intoxicating blend of rain-slicked cedar and ancient, heavy power—is a drug in my system. My wolf is no longer just scratching at the door; she is throwing herself against it, frantic to bridge the final inch of distance between us.Clyde doesn’t answer my question about Dianne with words. He answers with motion.In one fluid, athletic shift, he catches my waist and sweeps me backward. The world tilts. The gold-leafed ceiling, the sparkling chandeliers, and the blurred faces of the elite all vanish, replaced by the sheer, overwhelming gravity of his face hovering inches above mine. He holds me in a deep, precarious dip, his arm a band of iron beneath my back, supporting my entire weight with a terrifying ease.I gasp, my hands flying to his shoulders, my fingers digging into the expensive fabric of his tuxedo