THE CURSE OF THE FIFTH MATE
He looked better—color in his cheeks again, his injuries nearly healed, the weight of death no longer clouding his every move.
She turned slowly, looking at all of them.
These men—her mates. Her bond-forged. All still here. Still breathing. Still hers.
Veyra felt her chest tighten with something too big for words. She pressed a hand over her heart, where the invisible threads of fate pulsed with their lives, their emotions. The bonds thrummed with strength, with weariness, and tonight... with peace.
Someone nearby struck a chord on a lute, then another. A slow, haunting melody filled the air, one that grew richer as flutes joined in. The tune was old, older than even the eldest wolves could
Hot Chapters