The Vow Novels & Stories

He trembled as he slowly rose. "Very well," he whispered, his voice barely audible, like a sigh. The Silvermoon and Blackrock packs had gathered within the temple. I stood before the statue of the Moon Goddess, voice echoing across the sacred hall. "On this holy night of the Blood Moon, I have three announcements for the packs. First, Damian, I, Eva Lopez, deliver your judgment." A hush fell over the temple. Damian's eyes were vacant, his body drained of all life. I studied his hollow face and uttered deliberately, "For the sake of power, you betrayed the Blood Moon vow. You forcibly broke your mate bond with Chloe, provoked a war, and shed the blood of your people.

"To keep my enemies away, the world must believe we are fated mates. We have to live together. We have to be seen together. You will be my Luna in name, and I will be your shield in blood." I looked at his hand. If I took it, there was no going back. I would be leaving my old life forever. I would be entering a world of shadows and war. I reached out and gripped his hand. "Deal." The moment our palms met, a shockwave of energy exploded from us. The rain around us turned to steam. I felt a surge of power in my veins that I had never felt before. The "Void" Zade talked about wasn't a hole; it was a flood.

"Shawn, happy New Year! No matter how far you go, you'll always be the closest person to me." It was Archie Crosby, the underprivileged young man I had sponsored for four years. I had brought him out of the remote mountains and got him into Sienna's company. My finger hovered over the reply box. Before I could respond, I received a notification about a new post on social media. I tapped on it without thinking. The video was only five seconds long. Sienna, who was supposed to be stuck at the office for overtime, was standing on the beach. The wind was howling, and the sparkler in her hand lit up her gentle profile.

She’d told me not to worry about it—Isla, it’s not that deep, I already hired a photographer, and somehow I let myself shrug it off. But watching her now, framed by gold and shadows, I wished I had it. Even if her story wasn’t a love story. Even if this wasn’t a fairytale. Maybe that’s why I left it behind. I didn’t want to immortalize something that hurt. The crowd hushed again when the priest raised the small golden crowns. It was time. Vincenzo took Sienna’s trembling hands. There was a small, almost invisible tremor in her lashes, but she didn’t look away from him. He spoke his vow with his voice steady and deep.

“Money doesn’t buy loyalty to the Swan. Your father couldn’t save your mother, and he sure as hell can’t save you. That alliance with the Volkov’s? It’s going to get you both buried. But don’t worry. I’ll make sure the message gets sent loud and clear with you dead.” Victor made a weak gurgle, his hand twitching on the table. I reached for him again. “Victor, just hold on for a bit. Please.” The waitress pulled a gun from under her apron, pointing it straight at my chest. “Now you get to join him. No more questions. No more digging. The Swan sends her regards, DeLorenzo.” I slowly reached for my gun, she noticed. “Wait, don’t...” She fired without another word.

"Not a curse, if that's what you're imagining. A vow, spoken and sealed, that simply makes it impossible for the one who takes it to speak the truth to anyone who hasn't also taken it. Not silenced by fear. Silenced by their own given word, made unbreakable by old magic instead of by threat." Ivy looked up from Rowan, something in the idea catching at her. "That's not so different from what Dani's doing right now. Except Dani's keeping the secret because she loves me. This would let someone keep it because they chose to, permanently, with nothing forcing the choice except their own decision to take it." "It's not something to offer lightly," Odalys warned. "It changes a person, in small ways

On the night of their fourth wedding anniversary, Raymond Whitmore stood on a Boston stage and unveiled a perfume called Eternal Claire, dedicating it to the woman he swore he would love until his last breath. The world called it the most romantic gesture of the year. Claire called it a cage with a golden lid. Because thirty minutes later, a stranger sent her a video of that same perfume being poured over another woman's naked chest, in a suite two floors below the ballroom, by her husband's very hands. For four years, Claire had traded her PhD, her name, and her silence for a marriage the tabloids envied. In return, she got a mother-in-law who called her barren, a husband who called h

Ivie said. Blackwood opened the⁠ folder and placed the single p‌a⁠ge on the desk for⁠ her to see, face up. Ivie re‌ached for‍ the page and stopped an inch above the paper. ‍She looked down. On the top of the page‍, in s‌imple black in⁠k, one word was writ⁠ten. Marri⁠age.‍

Kira Quezada faked her own death to escape a family legacy that wanted to sell her off like a signature on a contract. Three years later, disguised as a cleaner, she's finally safe, until her new boss looks at her twice and realizes exactly who she is. Luciano Rodriguez doesn't expose her. He makes her an offer instead: marry him, save his dying grandmother's peace of mind, and help him bait the uncle circling his empire like a wolf. It's supposed to be a contract. Nothing more. But the man she was promised to as a girl and the man hunting Luciano's throne are the same person, and he's not done with either of them. As old secrets surface and new ones are made in the dark, Kira has to decide

"East side. Meeting some wolves who left Black Fang last week. They want in." The gold pulses and the signal that comes with it tastes different from the scouting-frequency – warmer, more structured, something that has a name now and is starting to take on weight. Iron Vow. The vow is chosen, the iron doesn't break, and the wolves who choose it are the ones who watched Knox set his cut on Viktor's bar, walk out, and decided that walking out was the most loyal thing they'd ever seen a man do. He kisses me. Brief, hard, his hand on the back of my neck in the grip that means I'll be back, and his body has never broken that promise.