LOGINKieranI wake to warmth and softness, and for one perfect moment, I don’t think. I just feel. Satiated, comfortable, whole in a way I haven’t been in so long.Then, I look down.Daciana is asleep in my arms, her dark hair spilled across my chest, one hand curled against my heart. The moonlight barely touches the room, but it’s enough. Enough to see the curve of her bare shoulder. The marks I left on her throat.What have I done?The memory crashes over me. Her cry in the night was faint, but I heard it through the stone walls separating our chambers. I’m always listening for her, tuned to every breath, every whisper. Before conscious thought could form, I was already moving into the hallway, where I found her door unlocked.She was thrashing in the sheets, caught in a nightmare. But underneath it, threading through her distress like poison in wine, I felt something else: magic. Gypsy witch magic, with its particular, bitter honey taste that clings to the back of my throat.I sit up sl
I can’t make myself tell him to leave. Can’t even form the words. I feel too raw, too exposed, like my skin has been peeled back and everything underneath is visible. I can’t make sense of what is going on—the dream, the woman named Elara, the terrible grief in Kieran’s eyes.But I need him.The understanding hits me with startling clarity. I need him right now. It’s a desperate desire, one I can’t control or rationalize. I need to be as close to him as possible, need to feel his warmth, his solid presence. I need confirmation that he’s real and alive and here.It’s not lust. Not exactly. It’s deeper than that. More primal. It’s a need. But I don’t know how to ask for what I want when I don’t even understand it myself.“Kieran.”I whisper his name, and my body betrays me. Heat floods through me, my skin hyper-aware of every point where we’re touching. I can smell my own arousal, sharp and unmistakable in the confined space. It’s not from simple desire but from this desperate need for
Suddenly, I’m standing in a forest clearing. A ritual space. Prepared for a mating ceremony.But it’s been destroyed. The ground is covered with blood. No. No, this can’t be real.Dead bodies everywhere. Guests in their finest clothes, slumped against trees, sprawled across the forest floor. Flowers that had been woven into garlands and scattered across the ground are stained red. Ceremonial torches still burn, their flames casting grotesque shadows across the carnage.I hear gurgling sounds. Wet, desperate breathing. People are dying.Screaming in the distance. Running footsteps. The sounds of slaughter still happening somewhere beyond the trees.I look down at my hands—still those small, delicate hands—and they’re covered in blood.This is a dream. Wake up. Wake up!But I can’t. I’m trapped here, trapped in this moment of horror.Someone screams my name—not Daciana, but something else. A name that sounds like music, like home. The woman in this body recognizes it instantly, knows it
Steam rises from the cup as I sip, staring out at the darkened grounds. The tea is slightly bitter but not unpleasant. My thoughts inevitably drift back to Kieran.He never interacts with any woman aside from me. The realization settles over me slowly. The only women he brought with the delegation are servants, and Artisem handles them. Not once have I seen him engage in conversation with any female at court beyond basic courtesy.But he talks to me. Really talks to me.He has expensive fruits waiting for me when I come for tutoring. Exotic things I’ve never tasted before, arranged on a plate like an offering. Sometimes he’ll peel an apple while I’m reading, his knife moving in smooth, sure strokes, and then he’ll hand me the slices without a word.It’s all so intimate, these small gestures that mean nothing and everything at once.I don’t understand his intentions. Maybe he’s just being kind. Maybe this is how he treats everyone under his protection, and I’m reading too much into sim
DACIANAI stare at the history book before me, tracing the faded ink with my fingertip. The dates blur together, but one thing stands out clearly.“So, the Kingdom changed hands?” I glance up at Kieran, seated across from me.He doesn’t answer. His jaw tightens, eyes fixed on something beyond the window.“Yes.” Artisem’s voice cuts through the tension. He leans against the bookshelf, arms crossed. “About seven hundred years ago.”“Isn’t that common?” I flip a page, scanning the names of rulers. “Even alpha leadership changes hands. Packs merge, new bloodlines rise.”“Not in this case.” Artisem’s expression darkens. “It was the Snow Mountain Pack that controlled the throne. Then, Lucian’s ancestors seized power. They were purists.”My head snaps up.“Really? But Lucian isn’t a purist, and neither was his father.”“No.” Artisem shakes his head. “That’s why there’s such a divide in the Umbra Council now.”Kieran finally speaks, his voice low and rough.“Yes. But back then, they were dete
KIERANI FIND myself standing in Lucian’s study a few days later, having been summoned by the man.He’s standing by the window, staring out at the courtyard below, when I enter. He doesn’t turn around, and the tension in his shoulders tells me this isn’t a casual get-together.“I’ve spent the past two days trying to stop the Umbra Council from doing this,” he says without preamble.I don’t need to ask what he means. The pressure to take a mate has been mounting since the Council’s last decree. More and more profiles are being sent to me, and I’ve begun to receive messages from fathers and uncles about arranging meetings.“I have no intentions of taking a mate. You know that they will either attempt to destroy my pack from the inside or act as a spy. My priority is my pack.”“You shifted your priorities when you set foot in the capital, Kieran,” Lucian murmurs. “I am sorry that you are being dragged into this, but there is a limit to how much I can shield you without being accused of f
Kael's POVMy hands clench into fists by my side but my voice is carefully neutral. “Is that so? Maybe we should swing by your old pack. I’ll pluck their eyes out. If they wouldn’t let you read, they shouldn’t be able to, either.”“Wh–what?” Elara’s shocked voice has me pausing, and I glance down
Kael's POVBut it’s her eyes that destroy me. Those bright green eyes that once sparkled with life and hope are now glassy and unfocused, the light in them fading like dying embers. One eye is blackened and nearly swollen shut. She is staring at nothing, seeing nothing, and I can feel through our p
Kael’s POVI’m silent, bored out of my mind. If it weren’t for the mystery surrounding the missing female shifter, I wouldn’t tolerate this gathering. But somebody here knows something. I’m certain of it.“And your tracking abilities! Papa says you’re legendary. I bet you could find anyone, anywher
Elara's POV And beside her, pale and sick-looking, stands Daciana. Her dark eyes meet mine for just a second before she looks away, guilt written across her face.“Sit,” Blackwood commands, gesturing to the empty chair beside Harper.I move toward his desk but remain standing. “What’s going on?”







