Stone Crown Fear And Hunger Novels & Stories

Skimming money from team events and dipping into company funds were practically standard practice. She thought hiding behind the title of Neel Corporation heiress made her untouchable. She never imagined the person she trusted most would be the one to expose her. The employees Violet had pushed around for years finally snapped. They surrounded her, anger boiling over. They grabbed her necklace, her rings, anything they could take as compensation. Violet begged them to stop, her face bruised and swollen, but all she got in return were more blows.

Damon drifts toward center ice and stops at the logo. I follow. For a moment, we stand where the game began. Where so much between us almost ended. “Funny,” he says. “All that fighting over who gets the crown.” “And?” He looks at me fully. “There was only ever one.” The words hang there. Not competitive. Not sharp. Certain. Only one crown. And it doesn’t belong to one king. The arena lights dim slightly as the crew prepares to clean up. I feel his hand brush mine. Not by accident.

A Dark Fantasy Romance Unholy Hunger ✦ Some loves are not forbidden by men. They are forbidden by gods. •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• Before Time Learned to Count •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × ••••••

And the storm that rose after, sweeping away what was left of what we had been, leaving us only with what we could become. The coronations and the marks. The crowns and the cuts. Sword oil and baby soap. Bedding warmed by laughter. Maps spread under candlelight. The Mirror’s hiss. Vera’s hunger. Draven’s arrogance. The way fear can look like certainty when it goes too long unchallenged.

I straighten up and pull on my big girl panties, after telling Crimson that he is my biggest fear, I need to get out of my own head. And we seriously need to get the shit out of this fucked up kingdom. Before my fears become real and this Pride tries something underhanded again. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.” Crimson growls, just as eager to leave. “You think they would feed us before we left?” I ask feeling my stomach grumble. “I don’t trust that they won’t poison it.” He looks at me quizzically, as if I should expect the same. I give a second thought. No, I didn’t think they would. “We could hunt on the way?”

As per the pack's traditions, he was supposed to crown me as his Luna, and for some unknown reasons, a deep and unsettling feeling settled at the pit of my stomach, followed by my wolf's restlessness. Or maybe, I was overthinking things. What could possibly go wrong? I self-questioned, and yet, that didn't calm my nerves. If anything, it only added to my anxiety. Many things could go wrong, actually. " Do you, Alpha Rhys Callum, Crown Sabrina Fords as your Luna?" The elderly voice rang out. Deep and unsettling silence followed shortly after. My stomach did a flip and dread coiled in my gut. When I turned to look at Rhys, I understood why.

“We’re afraid you already have. The Hunger's influence—subtle, yes, but detected in your resonance spikes. It feeds on escalation, and your bond... amplifies it.” The Hunger’s attention sharpened then—not excitement, but approval, a ripple beneath my ribs like a lover's hand trailing lower, probing for yield. This was its design—not direct assault, but orchestration through others' fears, widening fractures between authority and trust, forcing choices that fed its inevitability.

"Just find a place to sit for five minutes." I leaned against a tree, my head spinning. I hadn't eaten since the thin soup at the camp. My stomach was a tight knot of hunger, but the nausea was worse. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the Hunter's iron mask. I heard the scream of the boy's father. "Why are you doing this, Rhys?" I whispered, sliding down the trunk to sit on a patch of moss. "Is a crown really worth all this blood?" I looked at my hands. The bandages were black with mud and stiff with dried blood. I didn't want to unwrap them. I was afraid of what I’d see. If the silver fire had burned my skin as much as it had burned that Hunter’s sleeve, I was in trouble.

The ice screamed. Not cracked, not split but screamed, a shrill, living sound that tore through the ridge as the binding circle fractured. Runes flared wildly, some burning white hot, others collapsing into darkness. Power surged outward in violent waves, throwing Rowan and Dara backward. Lyra staggered, pain lancing through her skull as the Hunger recoiled then leaned forward again, curious. Two vessels. Two anchors. The acient hunger stepped closer, boots crunching over splintering frost, a slow smile curling their lips. The shadow around them moved differently than before, more controlled, less feral.