Borderland Rhys Novels & Stories

I asked. “I’m a border guard at the moment,” he said. Beside me, I felt Alexander stiffen slightly. The Oak Pack’s territory was to the north of Alexander’s, and one of three territories that directly bordered the Roguelands. Being a border guard there was an incredibly dangerous job. “That’s impressive,” Alexander said, his voice serious now. “Thank you for your work.” Carlos shifted uncomfortably, mumbling a response I couldn’t quite catch. “He gets nervous when you praise him,” Fiona said with a fond smile, nudging him playfully.

“I know you hate cilantro. I know you steal Claire’s hoodies and never return them. I know you cry at commercials with dogs. But I don’t know what you’re actually afraid of. Or what you want that you don’t tell people.” I pulled my legs up onto the couch, angling slightly toward him without meaning to. “That’s a lot for a Tuesday night.” “You don’t have to answer.” “No. It’s fine.” I traced the rim of my mug with one finger. “I’m afraid of ending up somewhere that looks fine from the outside but feels empty.” I glanced at him. “Your turn.” Rhys was quiet for a moment. The television light caught the side of his face. “I’m afraid of wanting something I’m not supposed to want.”

Military-cut hair, sharp jawline, and those blue eyes that used to glare at me for stealing the remote were now assessing me like… I don’t even know. “Yeah,” I muttered, hugging my arms. “So have you.” “You grew hips.” That was Rhys, sauntering in shirtless, towel slung over his shoulder. Tattoos kissed his biceps, and a cocky grin spread across his full lips. “And boobs. Definitely didn’t have those before.” “Rhys,” Landon snapped. “What?” Rhys shrugged. “I’m just saying she’s not a kid anymore.” “She’s still off-limits.”

*Starblood Borderlands – Dawn* The smell of smoke reached Crystal before the first scream. Ryder’s patrol was supposed to be routine—a sunrise sweep along the northern ridge, just inside Starblood’s border. But as the wind shifted, the acrid tang of burning wood and fur carried blood with it. Ryder’s wolf, Aiden, went rigid inside him. Too close, Aiden snarled. They dared. Crystal didn’t wait for orders. Aelira surged forward within her, claws raking at the edges of her control. The flame inside her had been restless for days, as if it sensed the coming storm. Now it roared awake, and hungry.

“I’ve investigated how Glenda and Bryson’s winning on the Dead Border is related to the other packs colluding rebellion with the Rogues.” When he said that, everything I was feeling vanished as I became filled with overwhelming shock and curiosity. The Dead border was the border on the Southern battlefield, which Bryson and Glenda had won before. I dropped the cup of tea and looked at him seriously. I leaned closer to the table and asked, “What did you get?” He pulled a letter or some kind of document from the drawer beside him and pushed it toward me. Nodding at it in a gesture, he told me to open it.

"He's my cousin. He’s powerful, strategic, and views Darek Ironfang as a true threat to the Pack's safety. He's a reluctant ally, but he needs to accept Luna before the Trials begin." Rhys met us at an isolated, small hunting cabin deep within the protected woods - a neutral territory for high-ranking Pack members. Rhys was strikingly different from Kael and Marcus. He was tall and lean, wearing tailored, expensive clothes, and his wolfish eyes were a pale, calculating green. He projected calm, cerebral authority, not aggressive dominance. He greeted Kael warmly, but his assessment of me was instantaneous and thorough, lasting several uncomfortable seconds. "So, the human Mate," Rhys stated,

I ask, pressing a long, desperate kiss to her cheek as I look up at Rhys over her shoulder. Anders gives Rhys a respectful, tight nod. "Sir." Then, gives me one last, lingering look—a look that explicitly says, I hope you are going back to that hospital—before turning and disappearing down the hall. Rhys looks remarkably better. He is walking entirely on his own, the heavy bruising on his face has faded significantly, and he looks as effortlessly handsome as he did the day I met him. The only lingering sign of the cartel beating is his left arm, which is still resting in a sling.

Part 1: The Repair Mission at Border 9 - Can Peace Fix What War Couldn’t** Dawn at Border 9 was white. Not snow-white. Ice-white. The anchor stone lay in three pieces. No cracks. No warning. Just… split clean down the center like a log hit by an axe. Frost crawled out from the break, slow and patient, turning grass to glass. Ryn knelt and pressed her palm to the ice. It bit her skin. “It’s cold,” she said. “Colder than Veyren’s dreams.”

I froze with even more dread on seeing who it was. Rhys. I’d heard stories of him. The Rogue Alpha. The one who was rumored to rule the borderlands with his own law. He was drop-dead gorgeous as the tales read, almost as much as he was scary. Looked like he emerged right from the front page of a horror story, and he was the hottest villain in the book. “You’re in my boundary,” He spoke flatly, drawing me out of my thoughts. “Give me one reason not to kill you right now.”

he suggested. “Exactly. But what realm? Is it some kind of other dimension? A parallel universe?” He tugged at my chain. I stumbled towards him, gritting my teeth in anger as he smirked. He rose, towering over me. “Have you ever stood upon the sea strand, Callie? Your feet touch the earth, but waves kiss your skin- you are neither on the ocean nor the land. It is a between-place, a place of change and ever-shifting sand. Footprints vanish; the tide advances, then recedes. That is the nature of the Border,” he said sagely.