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Seven
publish date:
2026-07-15 23:35:16
Latest chapter
Fated In Fang And Fur Seven
The day before the Grand Celestial Ball, Ronan sat alone in his private chambers with a half empty bottle of whiskey on the table. The fire crackled low in the hearth, throwing long shadows across the stone walls and the thick furs on the floor. He’d been staring into the flames for what felt like hours, glass in hand, mind turning in the same useless circles it had been stuck in for days. The bond wouldn’t leave him alone. It tugged and pulled, especially at night, feeding him flashes of Elias anger, confusion, that same sharp hunger he felt himself. Drinking helped dull it a little, but not enough.A soft knock sounded at the heavy door. Ronan didn’t bother looking up. “Come in, Garrick.”His captain stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him. Garrick had been standing guard out there most of the afternoon, silent and steady like always. The man had been with Ronan since they were boys running through the forest chasing rabbits and getting into trouble. Guard, advisor, frie
Fated In Fang And Fur Six
Ronan was still pacing his chambers like a caged animal when the knock came. Hard. Urgent. He’d barely slept since sending Lira away the night before, the bond still buzzing under his skin like a live wire he couldn’t cut. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Elias’s face, felt that unwanted heat from the dream, and it pissed him off all over again.“Enter,” he barked.Captain Garrick stepped inside, armor still dusty from the border, face serious. “My king. Emergency summons from the elders. They’re waiting in the Grand Court. Said it couldn’t wait.”Ronan rubbed a hand over his face, the stubble there rough under his palm. “What the hell do they want now? Another lecture about producing an heir?”Garrick shrugged, but his eyes were careful. “They didn’t say. Just that every alpha on the council is already there. Looks important.”“Fine.” Ronan grabbed his heavy cloak and threw it over his shoulders. The last thing he needed was more politics on top of everything else tearing at him.
Fated In Fang And Fur Five
The witch arrived at the Obsidian Palace just as the last light bled from the sky. She was old, older than most vampires cared to remember, with milky white eyes that saw more than any sighted person ever could. Her name was rarely spoken aloud, most just called her the Seer. Two of Elias’s guards escorted her through the winding halls, but she moved like she already knew every twist and turn, gnarled staff tapping against the black marble floor. Elias waited on the throne, fingers drumming restlessly. He hadn’t told anyone why he summoned her. Not even Lucian. The bond still pulled at him, low and constant, like a bruise he couldn’t stop pressing. When the witch finally stepped into the throne room, she stopped a few feet from the dais and tilted her head, blind eyes fixed somewhere near his chest. “You called for answers about the fire in your blood,” she rasped before Elias could open his mouth. Her voice carried that dry, certain weight that made lesser men sweat. “The bond. The
Fated In Fang And Fur Four
Ronan tossed in the massive bed, sheets tangled around his hips like chains. Sleep had finally dragged him under after hours of pacing and snarling at shadows, but it brought no peace. In the dream he was back in the mud of the battlefield, only this time there was no war around them. Just the two of them.Elias was underneath him again, but the vampire’s eyes weren’t full of hate. They burned with the same raw hunger Ronan felt twisting in his own gut. Pale hands gripped Ronan’s shoulders, claws digging in just enough to sting. Ronan growled low and ground his hips down, cock sliding hard and hot against Elias’s thigh. The vampire arched up to meet him, mouth open in a silent snarl that turned into a moan when Ronan bit down on the side of his neck. Not enough to kill. Just enough to claim. Blood, hot and sweet, flooded his tongue while Elias’s hand fisted in his hair and pulled him closer.“Fuck you,” Elias hissed in the dream, but his legs spread wider, letting Ronan settle between
Fated In Fang And Fur Three
The Obsidian Throne Room was quiet except for the soft crackle of black candles and the occasional drip of wax onto marble. Elias Nightshade lounged in the massive chair carved from volcanic glass and bone, one leg draped lazily over the armrest, a crystal goblet of blood wine balanced on his fingers. The liquid inside swirled slow and dark, spiced with something older than most of his court could remember. To anyone who didn’t know him, he would have looked like a king at ease, beautiful in that deadly way vampires were, midnight hair falling loose around sharp cheekbones, crimson eyes half lidded, lips stained red.The people who actually lived in Nightshade Palace knew better.No one spoke. The servants moved like ghosts, refilling his goblet when it ran low, clearing away the empty decanter without being asked. His generals had tried giving reports earlier and been met with nothing but silence and a cold stare that sent them backing out of the room. Even his personal guard, Lucian
Fated In Fang And Fur Two
Dawn had barely bled across the sky when Ronan’s forces slammed into the vampire lines like a hammer made of teeth and fury. The western border was a mess of muddy fields and shattered tree lines, the ground already slick with blood. He rode at the head in wolf form for the first charge, a massive black beast with silver scars cutting through his fur, roaring loud enough to shake the leaves from the dying oaks. Behind him, hundreds of werewolves howled in answer, some shifted, some still on horseback with axes and silver edged blades ready.The vampires had come in strength. Too much strength for a simple raid. Ronan’s blood boiled at the thought. Elias Nightshade was here. The bastard never showed his face unless he meant to carve something permanent into Ronan’s territory.The clash was immediate and ugly. Fangs met claws. Spells of blood and shadow ripped through the air alongside the wet sounds of bodies being torn open. Ronan barreled straight through a knot of undead soldiers, j
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