Paw Skye Novels & Stories

His voice had that dangerous edge I knew too well. "It's my fault," Selene interjected with a theatrical sigh. "I made all my favorite dishes today. It's natural for Skye to be upset on her first day back. Skye, what would you like? I can prepare something else." Her eyes gleamed with triumph and challenge. But these tactics couldn't anger me anymore. "She's a grown wolf now, not some delicate pup. If you can eat it, so can she," my brother growled. "Skye, stop making everyone uncomfortable. Be sensible for once."

I clenched my fists, my wolf stirring inside me. I turned back to Skye, "It seems we have to postpone our conversation, there's something that requires my immediate attention." Her gaze flickered with concern as she looked at me, "What's happening?" I shrugged, "Trouble, most likely." I didn't want to tell her it was Jayleen. Not yet, not until I was sure of her loyalty. She nodded, her brows furrowed. As I turned to leave, I felt a strange sensation. I looked back to see Skye staring at the painting. She was more than her mother's daughter; she was a witch and she had powers. Powers that could help us.

Drax, made from wild fungi and ethanol, was banned within the city limits but could be legally purchased and consumed in the Drock. Mother’s message was particularly relevant today, as my age now permitted me entry. Her second message was not to take unnecessary risks on the ice peaks I planned to climb, a message she knew I always ignored. The third was one I had received continually since my early childhood: “Skye, do not, under any circumstances, exercise your powers and bring attention to yourself.” I had asked why many times, only to receive the same answer. “Because I forbid it.” Or, as I grew older, “Because we have a special ability that can be dangerous and must be concealed.”

MEANWHILE – DEAN’S MANSION | SKYE'S ROOM Skye lay on her bed, her face buried in her pillow as soft sobs escaped her lips. Her friend, Paisley a white-skinned girl, sat beside her, gently rubbing her back in an attempt to soothe her. “Skye, please stop crying already. You’re going to make yourself sick,” Paisley murmured, concerned. “Leave me alone. How could he do that to me?” Skye’s voice trembled between her tears. “He ditched me and didn’t even bother to send a message since last night.”

But then I notice Skye tentatively approaching Posey, her eyes shining a brighter violet than they normally do. Posey watches her like she’s being stalked by something threatening, and for a moment, I wonder if I should intervene, to rein the powerful little girl in by calling out her name and mentioning that her great-grandfather is willing to make her another complicated pancake, possibly in the shape of the elusive Solstice Wolf, which would undoubtedly chap Isaac’s ass, but then Skye reaches out and runs her fingers over the leather satchel draped over Posey’s shoulder. “Do you want to see it?” Posey asks, her forest-green eyes taking in Skye’s dark hair and high cheekbones. Skye nods ex

Skye let through a little bit more of her power. “Showoff,” I teased her via link. “If you’ve got it...” she trailed off in a giggle. “She’s a white wolf.” “There’s never been a white wolf before.” “She must be the Moon Goddess’ daughter.” “She’s powerful.” “She’s beautiful.” These are the comments that were going around as Skye approached Darrin. As a wolf, she was still taller than the guy as she looked down at him, daring him to say anything else. He gulped and stepped back, almost falling over. I was still watching her when a little boy tugged at my leg.

Lily stood behind Elias, tugging at his shirt and asked worriedly. The ancient wolf now bared sharp teeth and long sharp claws, leaning forward. It scratched its claws at Elias, who raised his arm covered in hard steel to support it. The sound of claws and steel from Elias's arm made anyone who heard it freeze. Lily covered her ears while her body was still shaking. Elias pushed Lily backwards, his body now as fast as lightning, rushed to the wolf's body, took the wolf by the side, stabbed it in the arm. From the wolf's biceps, blood spurted out, splattering on the ground.

After he leaves, I'm alone with my thoughts and the text message I can't stop reading. Too many eyes on me. What is Vale doing to her? Why is she being watched? And why is she asking for help now, after three years of silence? Or maybe I’m reading too much into it. Maybe she just needs a favor that’s beyond his power to give. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking that she’s not blissfully happy with him. The questions circle endlessly, but each one makes my protective instincts scream louder. Skye is strong. Capable. Intelligent. She's survived three years married to a man who didn't deserve her even if she thought he did. She’s built a reputation as Luna of a powerful pack, earning respect from

I told Skye that the next step should be asking Marco to move a finger if he could really hear. Skye was clapping her hands in great joy as it seemed like Marco indeed could hear and understand everything that he hears from his surroundings. Skye’s happiness was so contagious. She was seven jumping on her spot as she sprang up from her seat in great surprise. Just to sat back down again, but her feet were restless as well.

The recognition was instant, followed immediately by a look of sheer, unadulterated terror. She began to drop to her knees, her wet hands clutching at her apron. "Your Grace—I didn't—I was only—" "Don't," I said, stepping forward quickly to catch her by the elbows before she could touch the wet stone. Her arms were cold, shaking under my grip. "Please. Don't do that. My name is Skye." "You're... you're the King's mate," she whispered, her wide eyes darting to the door as if expecting the royal guards to storm in and execute her for looking at me. "The one from the Silvercrest pack."