Novel & Cerita Fantasy Gifts Blackwood

One thing struck me about them. They had no women in the midst, not even one. I stood tall and stepped forward. “I am Alpha Damian of the Blackwood pack. I’ve heard of your ways—how effective your men are in a battle and how strong you are and I came to seek an alliance.” They stared at me not saying anything. I reached into my satchel and brought out the gifts—coins, weapons, and some special herbs that give strength. “This is only the beginning. If you agree to help me, I’ll give you far more.”

“Wait, say that again.” Noel typed out, staring at the box in his hands. “What is this?” “Black obsidian,” Eden said, grinning as he clasped a silver necklace on. “Fern gave it to us as a gift. You can do what you want with it.” “Us?” “Yeah, I have a matching bracelet.” He held up his arm to show the bracelet glistening. “They are a pair. Do you like it?” “It’s pretty.” Noel typed out, looking at the ring. “Are you sure I can have this?”

Zach stated, “You were gripping it so tightly that we couldn't get it out of your hand.” “Can we see it?” Aaron asked as he approached them, caressing Zelle's head. Zelle didn't say anything else after giving Aaron the greeting card, and Zach clung to her, refusing to let her go. “Instead of 18 roses, I'll give you 18 red gifts,” Aaron began reading aloud from the crumpled letter. “You'll get one each day leading up to your birthday...” He frowned, “...and on your birthday, I'll make a gigantic cake for you to blow. Enjoy, my sweet birthday girl.” Aaron gritted his teeth as he looked at her terrified face. He felt helpless.

But there was acceptance too, and gratitude for this new beginning. Together, we unwrapped each gift. There were carved wooden wolves, crafted by the pack's most skilled artisans. Rare healing herbs I'd only read about in ancient texts. Precious pack heirlooms—symbols of my acceptance into the Blackwood lineage. The last gift was the smallest, a tiny box wrapped in silver paper. Inside was a mate-marking pendant, gleaming with the ancient Blackwood family symbols. Alexander lifted it carefully, his eyes meeting mine with silent promise for all the moon cycles ahead.

The paragraph went on. “…he kept them safe until their strength returned. Until the magic pulsing in their blood could protect them on its own. And when they could finally walk without fear, they left… but not before offering him a parting gift. One of power. One touched by darkness, but softened in the hands of the right soul.” I sat back, my fingers pressing against the spot where my babies rested. My thoughts whirled. So that’s how the Second Life gene got into the Blackwood line.

I was always just a means to an end. “What do you mean?” I’m inching toward the window now, away from Andrew, desperation clawing at my throat. “What kind of interests?” “Collectors,” Blackwood says simply, polishing another of his rings on his jacket. “People who appreciate unique, valuable things. Your offspring will be well cared for, I assure you. Fed, housed, trained…” “Trained for what?” “Entertainment. Protection. Companionship.” His oily grin widens. “Whatever their masters require.”

"You said, 'It looks really good on you. I'm glad I picked the right one. Then you passed out." His eyes widened a fraction. "I said that out loud?" "Mm-hmm." I smiled. "So my question is. Why did you gift this to me Mr Blackwood? From what I can see, this is a diamond studded necklace and I’m sure it’s very expensive. So why give it to me as a gift? Why give something like this to your assistant when you could give it to… I don't know, someone who actually deserves it more?" He turned his head away for a moment, his jaw tightening. When he looked back, his gaze was locked on mine—intense, and unguarded.

I opened it casually. Then froze. My blood ran cold. The logo at the top of the page was unmistakable. Blackwood Enterprises. For several seconds, I couldn't breathe. The room seemed to tilt. Seven years. Seven long years. And suddenly, his name was back in my life. Waiting. Watching. Threatening to reopen wounds I'd spent nearly a decade trying to heal. Across the room, Noah looked up from his coloring book. "Mom?" I quickly forced a smile. "I'm okay."

Every breath he drew stirred the flames in the air. They spoke for hours in that living fire—played games he carved out of memory, wove stories in the smoke until sleep itself hesitated to claim them. She knew the weight of his arms, the rough silk of his hair, the scent of ash and embers that clung to him. And she knew, without doubt, that no part of her belonged so fiercely anywhere else as it did with him. Even if she couldn’t name that truth in the waking world. Blackwood school was tiny—corridors echoing with gossip about alliances and futures, who would lead, who would marry whom. Lyra despised that suffocating certainty. But at thirteen, she possessed something she had never had: real

The moment her fingers touched it, the Scholar Gift sank into her skin like liquid moonlight. Lydia gasped. Then she laughed. "It's mine," she whispered. She looked at me with the same smile she had worn on the day she killed me. "This time, Sister, I'll be the genius. I'll be the one they praise. I'll be the one Adrian Blackthorne follows." The man did not stop her. He only smiled a little more softly. "Then the remaining gift is yours," he said to me. The crimson light drifted toward my chest. The Glamour Gift settled inside me, warm and dangerous.