บททั้งหมดของ Dagger of the Blood Moon: บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

Liora POVThe packhouse room is a cocoon of shadows and moonlight, the bed a tangle of rumpled sheets that still carry the faint, intoxicating trace of Kai’s ocean-mist scent—a ghost of the storm that crashed over me by the lake. My body hums with the aftershocks of his kiss, lips swollen and tingling, the rough bark of the tree still imprinted on my back like a brand I never want to fade. Every inch of me feels alive, electric, aching in the best and worst ways. The Silver Dagger rests on the bedside table, its ruby hilt catching a thin sliver of moonbeam through the window, pulsing in time with my heartbeat—slow, heavy, insistent.I sink deeper into the pillows, auburn hair fanning across the linen, cool fabric a cruel contrast to the heat still flushing my skin. My nightgown clings to me, damp in places, the thin silk outlining every curve he touched, every place his hands gripped, his mouth claimed. Moon Goddess, that kiss. Kai’s grey eyes had darkened to storm-cloud black as he p

Dax POVThe Mating Cabin’s bed is a tangle of rumpled sheets that still carry her honeysuckle scent - wild and intoxicating - but it’s empty. The cool space beside me a hollow ache that makes Rune whine, a low, restless rumble in my chest that claws at my ribs like a storm trapped in a cage. The late afternoon sun filters through the window, bathing the wooden walls in a soft golden haze, the lake outside lapping gently against the shore, but the quiet feels wrong without her—her teasing laugh, her spicy chirps, the way Veyra’s purr synced with Rune’s howl last night, their bond a blaze that left us breathless and marked.I sit up, the sheets pooling at my waist, my skin still tingling from her nails, her bites, the glowing tattoo on my neck shimmering faintly like moonlight on water. Where is she? Rune howls, urgent, possessive, the mate bond a live wire pulling me toward her - toward the packhouse, the yard, anywhere she might be.I dress quickly - pants and a shirt clinging to my f

Kai POVThe silence that falls over the training yard is absolute. The rhythmic clack of practice blades and the playful yips of the pups cease entirely, replaced by the heavy, suffocating scent of overripe lavender that clings to Elvira like a shroud. It fights a losing battle against Liora’s fresh, wild scent, but the sour undertone of Elvira’s jealousy is enough to make Atlas bare his teeth in the back of my mind.I step smoothly between them, acting as a physical barrier shielding Liora. My wolf doesn't view Elvira as a mate; he views her as a threat to the one woman who actually holds our soul.“Elvira,” I say, my voice dropping into the low, resonant timber of an Alpha’s warning. The air around us seems to cool. “Watch your tone. Liora is training by my direct command.”Elvira’s eyes flash, her hand stroking the swell of her belly in a move so rehearsed it sets my teeth on edge. “I am simply thinking of the pack, Kai. The stress of all this… commotion isn't good for the Alpha he

Kai POV​“Liora,” I say, dropping to my knees before her. My voice is rough with concern, my hands framing her knees. The contact sparks an immediate, electric warmth that Atlas amplifies, his roar a thunder in my mind that makes my heart pound against my ribs. “You’re shaking. Talk to me. What did you see?”​Her hazel eyes meet mine, wide and turbulent with the storm of the vision. Aria’s faint, distressed growl is a spark through our mate link.​She exhales a ragged breath, her fingers tightening around the arms of the chair. “Marcus,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “He was in the vision, Kai. In Shadow Ridge’s grove. He was cloaked in shadows, holding a silver talisman etched with a twisted crescent rune. It was glowing violet… fae magic.”​My jaw clenches at the name of the traitor, but I let her speak, rubbing soothing circles into her skin.​“He said he did it all for me, but the fae… they’ve twisted it,” she continues, her words tumbling out in a rush. “They are compelling

Kai POVThe heavy oak doors of the packhouse splinter into kindling as I crash through them, Atlas’s fury driving me forward like a runaway freight train. The grand foyer is a warzone of shattered glass and blood, but I don’t stop. The pack link is a chaotic storm of shouts and snarls, but my entire being is focused on one single, frantic pull.Liora. Her wildflower scent cuts through the heavy smoke and the rancid musk of cursed rogues, acting as my only compass. I vault over the ruined remains of a crushed mahogany table, taking the stairs to the basement three at a time. The air grows colder the deeper I go, suffocatingly thick with the metallic tang of dark magic, the acrid burn of silver, and that inescapable, cloying cloud of overripe lavender.I hit the basement landing just as a guttural, grinding hiss echoes down the corridor.My heart stops dead in my chest.Thirty feet away, between Liora and the heavy steel doors of the Saferoom, three grotesque hybrid monsters block the p