Making Connections Novels & Stories

The two men got up and walked inside to drown their sorrows in alcohol. ************ Destiny walked into her room. Taking a deep breath; she started to strip off the track pants she had picked up from the open basket after she had shifted back to human. She thought about her dreams. It wasn't normal that she should have such a connection. She thought back to the teachings of her childhood as she began to make her bed. It was rare for a mental connection to exist before mating, only if… Such mental connections were an indication of power. Best friends acquired such deep connection after years of being together, parents and children formed a bond at birth, and mates earned them from the coupli

Uncertainty filled my heart as I closed my eyes, but within a moment, I sensed several strands of connection forming within my soul. Startled, I opened my eyes in astonishment. My heart pounded fiercely. "Are these... my connections to every surviving member of the Red Moon Pack?" Trembling, I struggled to comprehend the situation. Time was of the essence, so I closed my eyes again, reestablishing the connection. Almost instantly, I could once more sense the thread-like connections to the pack members.

Not proof. Just pure connection.

"Connection is living." The woman was quiet. Then: "Show me." I took her hand. Reached for the bond-building part of me. Formed a thread. Tentative. Fragile. The beginning of a bond. She gasped. "What is—I feel—" "That's connection," Kade said. He placed his hand over ours, forming his own thread. Her eyes widened. "I feel both of you. Not controlling. Just there. Present." "That's a bond," I said. "Acknowledgment. That we exist together and that matters."

They all looked at me. My thoughts were moving fast now clear, sharp. “If she spread everything out,” I said slowly, “then she created connections.” Marcus nodded. “Yeah ” “Connections can be traced,” I continued. Stephen’s eyes widened slightly. “ yes.” Grayson frowned. “Explain.” I stepped forward, the idea forming fully now. “Even if it’s hidden, it still needs something to hold it together. Something syncing it.” “A network anchor ” Marcus said. “Or multiple nodes feeding into one source,” Stephen added.

Adrian says, his voice tightening. “I’m not doing it yet,” I say quickly. “I’m just… checking something.” “That’s not comforting.” “I know.” The connection responds as I focus on it. Not pulling. Not overwhelming. But opening. Like a door I’ve already unlocked once before. Carefully— More carefully than last time— I reach into it. Not fully. Not diving in. Just touching. Feeling. The threads are there. All of them. Every connection I created. Every adjustment I made.

I took a slow, shaky breath. And then For the first time since this began I let go. Not completely. Not recklessly. But carefully. Gently. I loosened my hold. And instead I reached outward. To each of them. Individually. “Feel this,” I whispered. “Don’t fight it.” The connection shifted. Threads began to form. Not just through me But between them. Small at first. Weak. Unsteady. But real. One by one They connected. To each other. Not through pain.