Game Of Thrones Rhoynar Novels & Stories

There were no fallen leaves on the ground and so their feet landed on soft grass, the noise padded. “Someone grabbed me back there,” Riyin said after he had swiped at his face. “That would be me. You almost got yourself killed.” What? Yisuf almost got him killed. “How do you mean, there was a clearing up ahead.” Yisuf sighed. “Yes, and you would have run straight into the Mahi Riders’ camp. The Mahi Riders? Who were those? Riyin had never heard of them before. Yisuf sensed the boy’s ignorance. “Did Thorn raise you in a cave? I hear dragons love to stay there where they can remain ancient and out of touch.”

“Then ask me questions. Don’t choke me in front of the whole pack. I’m not your enemy.” Rhydian stopped suddenly outside a heavy door I knew led to his private quarters. He turned to face me fully. Up close he was even bigger, shoulders broad under his dark shirt, power rolling off him in waves. But there was exhaustion there too, lines around his eyes that spoke of too many sleepless nights. “Tell me your full name again,” he said. “Soren Vale.” “Age?” “Twenty six.” “Family?” “None left. Raised on the edge of the territory. Been doing small tasks since I was old enough to walk.”

Rodrigo drew a slow breath before raising his voice. “Wolves of Blackthorn!” His voice cracked with age, yet it carried the unmistakable authority of a man who had led them through more winters than anyone alive. “She is Kyrian’s blood, and she has done nothing to bring harm upon this pack.” From the shadows near the hearth, a battle-hardened warrior raised his fist. “Elder Rodrigo Sigurd, the Iron-Eyes, has spoken!” “Aye!” another warrior bellowed. “The Iron-Eyes speaks the truth!”

Kent, an Alpha, probably tired and under pressure of taking care of his clans. He probably doesn’t get to enjoy the simpler things in life like the sunsets. So this was why my sister Marianna was sauntering around in her room in an orange dress which reflected back golden light when she moved, because Marianna was right, I always knew what these werewolves liked. The dress was perfect. Marianna looked perfect. Kent won’t know what hit him. “Mother,” I lazily called. When she didn’t answer I yelled, “Mother, get your butt up here now!”

Catching Trevor’s arm as he surged toward the man, Rhye gave the younger werewolf a warning shake of his head. Once Alpha Stefan was found, Trevor could snack on as many mutts as he wanted. For now, they might need the man for considerable muscle, if not his less than the considerable brain. “Fine, just stay out of the way,” he warned. Allowing the grumbling Trevor to take the lead, Rhye entered the shadowed cabin, his instincts screaming as he moved toward the dead wolf in the middle of the floor. His brows snapped together as a shiver inched down his spine. What the hell?

But before I could move, another voice cut through the air. “Enough.” The word was sharp, commanding. Both the guards froze at once. Ronan Grey Thorn. He is the proxy Alpha right now… Stepbrother of Alpha King Alexander. Roana walked toward us. He is tall and charismatic with short brown hair and a dangerous aura. Each step he took was heavy and sure; he seemed the kind of man who bent others to his will. The guards dropped their heads and moved aside as he stopped near us. “Let her through,” he ordered. They obeyed instantly.

“I’ll save my apology for later. Just hang on for a while there. I—” He was cut as Raeya sighed her last earthy breath and she vanished as black tendrils pulled her towards the other world. The Roar had been outside the Rigiddin castle for many days straight. The one they branded as the strongest man in Khenealm looked like a lost puppy begging to be taken in. Whether it rained or not, Ryder stood his ground, unwilling to move until he would get the audience that he wanted. The chief, however, had other plans in mind. He could have gracely welcomed him but he ordered Jin not to let him enter without his approval.

Blood that hadn’t dried yet. I turned before the others did. He stepped through the main arch like he owned the path under his feet. Ronan Draxmere. Bloodpine heir. Alpha-bred in the most brutal fucking forest left on the continent. And he was wearing our colors. The base uniform clung to him like it had been tailored directly onto his frame. Black high-collared coat, white shirt open just enough to flash his collarbones, storm-gray combat slacks, heavy black boots worn in at the soles. His cloak swept behind him as he walked, forest green with silver thorn embroidery curling along the lining—but it looked wrong on him. Too civilized. Too neat. His belt carried twin sheaths and a folded cord

Ember turned to the silver wolf, keeping her posture tense. ‘Who are you? And why did you attack us?’ she asked flatly, her wolf was still itching to sink her fangs into him. He didn’t respond at first, his gaze flickering between them and Kaya. Raphael sneered in warning, his fur bristling. ‘My name is Ragnar,’ he finally said. Even through the link, his voice was deep and husky. ‘How did you leave Thorne’s territory unscathed? And why do you have his scent all over you?’

“Go eat something. I have to speak with Jorah.” Vira pulled back, searched his eyes once more, then turned and went inside. The door closed softly behind her. Thorne stayed still for a few seconds longer, then walked toward the far side of the settlement where Jorah waited near the trees. The spy looked thinner than the last time they had spoken. Travel and hiding had worn him down. His clothes were worn. His eyes were sharp, though. He still did the work. “You have more?” Thorne asked. Jorah nodded. “Security inside Ravencrest is increasing, but not only for the festival. There is talk of something under the mountain. The Alpha and his closest people are spending more time in restricted are