“Arian, what you did was unforgivable!” His tone was filled with scorn. “I know.” He cast his eyes away with a flush. “Imagine if tables were turned, how would you have reacted? What if I killed your own child, Arian?” “In my anger, truthfully, I would have buried a sword in your heart.” He answered with honesty shining in his eyes. Whether it was facial expression—the seriousness of his voice when he said that—or just because of the sake of it, Conroy burst out laughing. Soon Arian joined in the laughter and it became a rumble of male laughter. Soon Conroy quieted, humor gone from his eyes, “Do not ask me for forgiveness, ever again. I am barely refraining from having you skewered as it is. There are thousands of grief that could befall a man and he would still shake it off but not the loss of a child especially when the child did not die by natural means.” He hung his head as his shoulders drooped, “As you wish, Your Highness.” Changing the subject Arian continued,
“The lady would see you now.” One thing was certain, Omre’s Cavern had become more formal since Amelia had belonged to it. He followed Jeanie, Amelia’s most trusted confidant and guardian of the secret seer through the bowers of the dark Cavern that served as the Omre’s home time immemorial. Safety seemed to be more of a dispute than it had been age-old, with lower cadre Omres standing guard at various points throughout the Cave, most of them armed in one way or another. Had the Cavern’s number grown? Fehr certainly couldn’t remember there being so many Omres in the cavern as they were a rare kind. It was possible Amelia recruited more and even went in search of them as they preferred to stay hidden. Omres were once hunted by witches and killed because of their blood. It was once rumored that Omres never existed and Fehr would have believed if he did not have Amelia figured out. As he allowed himself to be led deeper into the Cave by the guard, his mind drifted to unbidden, dar
Latching onto his wrist, Amelia closed her mouth around the bleeding wrist and sucked a mouthful of his blood. He watched her as she drank from him, his pupils dilating. She fed from his wrist until the wound closed up and he drew back his hand, his nose flaring. Amelia stood rooted to the spot as Fehr lowered his head to hers. She closed her eyes in anticipation of lips touching hers but instead she felt the slick wetness of his tongue, lapping up the line of blood that stained her lips to her chin. She gulped as his slithered his arm around her waist and drew her close, the soft glow of the full moon shining on them both as he kissed her slow and deep. She was enslaved to the mastery of his kisses, his tongue stroking its way into the warm and wet cavern of her mouth as she stood still, enraptured by his magical seduction. Giving her one last wet kiss, he pulled away and rested his forehead against hers, “I have always wanted to do that since I saw you lying half-dead on
Lighting struck across the moonlit sky, followed by a crack of thunder that momentarily made the werewolves surrounding Alpha King Conroy and Amelia Whittaker deaf. The moon was full, shining brightly as it signified the mating season for the werewolves. Other wolf packs were probably coupling and rejoicing but not the Valerian hybrid werewolves. The rain splattering down on the muddy ground splashed dirt onto Amelia’s frilled, flowing, virginal-white gown while sweat mixed with dirt dripped down Alpha King Conroy’s shirtless torso to the waistband of his black leather pants that tightly hugged his muscular thighs. “You can’t do it… Please, Amelia.” He protested. Everyone in his pack was present, including Cousin Arian who is his beta and second-in-command included. An Alpha wasn’t allowed to be weak not in front of the people he was meant to protect, but Conroy was close to breaking. “Watch me, you bastard!” She snarled. “Your parents weren’t innocent, they kidnapped wolve
The battle of love, peace and bloodhounds Sian groaned as she felt the arrow hit her, the spot coming alive with red hot pain. Blood was already seeping from it and the wound was not sealing because of the poison. “Your highness, you should leave,” She called worriedly and Conroy shook his head, although he barely heard her from the moans, groans and curses emitting from the men, struggling to stay alive on the battle field. “Head back to Valeria and send more men!” He yelled over the shouts of the warriors. Biting hard on her lips, she raised her hand to where the arrow had hit her and then dragged it out of her arm and then slowly the wound closed back, “No your highness, I will die in the battlefield for Valeria.” Conroy did not respond as he growled, digging his claws into the neck of one of the opponent that had attacked him. Seeing that Sian was distracted again, someone from the opponents took another arrow, dipped into the poison and hooked it to the bowstrings.
Few weeks later “The werewolf King is dead by now,” Isobel said, her head bent dutifully to her chores in the Ancientrovan Fortress. “He is no more a King.” Amelia clipped, “Valeria does not exist anymore.” “Ah yes,” Isobel paused and then asked with a grin, “When are you telling his Lordship Fehr?” “Tonight.” “I hope it goes well.” “I hope so too.” ~**~ The last time she had been here, there had been snow on the ground and Conroy had shared the warmth of his body with hers, offering her along with it the warmth of a different kind. A warmth that erupted from the heart, that fur coverlets and fires could not give. The warmth of love, of a similar spirit that had been through the same thing she had, or that at least understood the loneliness and lack of happiness she had suffered at being orphaned. She smiled nostalgically as she dismounted from her horse, she tethered her reins beneath a rock and set her new mount to a skip and stretch out her legs. Standing on
Lighting struck across the moonlit sky, followed by a crack of thunder that momentarily made the werewolves surrounding Alpha King Conroy and Amelia Whittaker deaf. The moon was full, shining brightly as it signified the mating season for the werewolves. Other wolf packs were probably coupling and rejoicing but not the Valerian hybrid werewolves. The rain splattering down on the muddy ground splashed dirt onto Amelia’s frilled, flowing, virginal-white gown while sweat mixed with dirt dripped down Alpha King Conroy’s shirtless torso to the waistband of his black leather pants that tightly hugged his muscular thighs. “You can’t do it… Please, Amelia.” He protested. Everyone in his pack was present, his cousin Arian who is his beta and second-in-command included. An Alpha wasn’t allowed to be weak not in front of the people he was meant to protect, but Conroy was close to breaking. “Watch me, you bastard! She snarled. “Your parents weren’t innocent, they kidnapped wolves from
Eighteen moons later. One thing that was ingrained in her memory as one of the trainees of the Assassin creed revolution is the aptitude to pretend and remain calm, keeping the facial features dispassionate. She could have the most lethal weapon attached to her and still look calm and collected as a cucumber. This was achieved by one of her most intensive training, when she was locked in a dark tomb filled to the brim with scorpions. She had to keep an expressionless face and not make the slightest peep of noise. After repeating the training for the fifth time, she finally became the toughest and unbreakable assassin in the faction. Looking back on her days of training, Amelia Whittaker knew that it was worth it. But she wondered when she would be allowed to kill the King of the Valerians because she was ready. She could feel it in her bones and deep down in her heart. Her soul begged for it…her soul craved to feel his blood on the edge of her sword. This was what she had