Lyon By Jordan Silver Novels & Stories

I'd rather die than let any of these craze heads touch me! “You're no chosen one; you're just a pathetic, wolfless loser. How did I even tolerate you all these years?” Leon says, turning his gaze to the pouch. “But for my time's worth, it'll be a waste if I get nothing as a repayment. Don't you think so, Lyne?” He adds, laughing out smuggishly, and then, he throws the pouch up and catches it midair. I gasped. How could my own brothers sell me off?! We didn't have the same father, but we shared the same birth mother.

The tension between them crackled in the air, a lifetime of complicated history evident in their locked gazes. "Fine," Lydia finally said, rising gracefully from her chair. She reached into her pocket and withdrew a small glass bottle containing a silvery-blue substance. "Wolfsbane ointment. For the silver burns." She held it out to me rather than Nathan, her eyes carrying a meaningful look. "He won't accept it from me, but he might from you. It's specialized for silver-induced injuries." Nathan's expression remained stony as Lydia made her way to the door. Just before exiting, she turned back with a knowing smile. "This isn't over, Nathan. Mother is quite determined about the Stormhowl alli

“Because the fire they fear… it’s the same fire that can burn them to ash. Let me fight beside you, and you’ll see it.” Lyra’s amber eyes narrowed. For a heartbeat, silence weighed heavy—then she barked a short, sharp laugh. “Bold. Foolish, perhaps. But bold.” Her pack stirred restlessly, growling low. Lyra silenced them with a flick of her clawed hand. “Very well, fire-born. You and your moon-eyed companion will walk with us. But understand this—” Her voice dropped to a dangerous purr. “If your flames touch my kin, I will tear out your heart before your fire can burn me.”

A deep, slurry voice says I dip into what I hope is a graceful vow, “Apologies, young lord. Lyra came on with a cold this morning, so I— Before I could even finish, someone’s face is in front of mine. I have to resist the instinct to pull away once again. A mess of golden curls, and eyes narrowed in concentration— silver eyes. This guy is younger than what I’d expected, maybe my age, or a year older at most with a face that’s leaning more towards pretty than handsome, contrary to what I’d seen in most Lycans. “You have strange eyes.” Orion Dolmen says, slurring the words

and that was the entire exchange, because there were no words for what I felt through the bond, and none were needed. She wasn't in danger. That was the strange part I had to keep reminding myself of as I moved through the palace, out to the stables, and had a horse under me in under three minutes. What came through the bond wasn't danger. It was something I had no prior reference for — enormous, overwhelming, shot through with silver light — and my Lycan wasn't reacting with protective fury but with something closer to recognition. The deep, specific recognition of something meeting its match. Her wolf.

Caroline, a she-wolf who has been considered a monster since she was a child, can she break the tragedy spell and find her MATE?

Leo pointed toward the horizon, toward the Western sea. A massive, silver-skinned woman was rising from the water. She was miles tall, her hair the clouds, her eyes the twin moons of the Eleventh Cycle. She wasn't a machine, and she wasn't a goddess. She was the Final Luna, and she was carrying a scythe made of frozen time. "She’s coming to harvest the harvest," Leo whispered. And then, Leo’s silver eyes rolled back into his head, and he collapsed. From the silver-oil on the ground, a familiar figure emerged. Jackson. But he wasn't the Vizier or the Huntsman. He was a boy again—the boy from the square, but his eyes were filled with the same silver-oil as the Foundry.

“Even if this is some plot and not a coincidence, they are loyal to me and me alone.” I nodded in agreement. Jordan was right, her guard was extremely loyal to her and they would relocate in secret with just a word from her. With the existing warriors from my pack and her guard, we would be well protected. We could remain hidden under the guise of being an extension of the Silver Moon pack as far as anyone in the royal court was concerned. It would help conceal us further as we tried to find out just what had been happening. We could deal with Jordan being the sole remaining heir to the lycan throne once this mystery was solved.

Kael, meanwhile, remained beside Silver. His presence was protective in a much more obvious way. Anyone watching could see it. Finally, Orion stepped in front of Silver. For a moment, the two brothers—Orion and Kyrian—studied one another. Two leaders measuring each other. Then Orion nodded once. “Protect her.” Kyrian’s answer was immediate. “With my life.” Lyra stepped forward next and wrapped Silver in a tight embrace. “Don’t forget where you came from,” she whispered. Silver’s throat tightened.

Mira's stomach dropped, and Jordan turned slowly, as the door stood open. And there, holding a glass of wine with red nails curling around the stem, was Lydia. Her eyes were sharp. She smiled with cold delight, as dead silence settled between all of them. “Oh,” she said sweetly, her voice cutting through the tension. “Do not let me interrupt something beautiful.” Mira’s heart sank. Jordan did not move, neither did he step away. Lydia’s smile widened. “Well well, well. What a little whore you've turned out to become.”