JessamineDrawing the hood tighter over my head, I weave through the woods, my eyes adjusting to the darkness. My stomach flutters as knotted nerves unravel. A loud roar splits the air from a distance, sending the birds perched on the trees flying.I haven't been back in these woods in years, but it is almost the same. The paths I created when I was a child have all closed up, but the markers mother put on the trees are still here.My fingers trace each as I walk past, and my heart clenches at the sight of the familiar boulder that had served as a gate for my home.I halt in front of the little mud hut I grew up in. Memories assault me and I shove them down, deep into the box of things I don't like to look into. Each step is heavier than the last as I approach, and I convince myself, again and again that this is important. I need to find the truth and while I can't ask my mother anymore, I know where to look.Towards the end of her life, she could hardly recall details anymore. She wa

“No,” Madeline sobbed, scrubbing off the blood on her skin until she bled. “I didn’t—I wouldn’t hurt you like that. I love you.”It was the first time Madeline ever admitted to him that she loved him, and though he’d waited for those words for a long time, he barely heard her. The windows and entrances were shut, as they usually were when the King and Queen of Dawn were having private conversations that couldn’t afford to be leaked to outsiders. There was no way anyone could have come from outside.Still, she inched closer, reaching for his hands with her fingers that still had his mother’s blood on them. Hunter flinched, and Madeline let her hand fall. “I didn’t do it. I swear it, on my life, though it’s not worth much. Tell me you believe me.” A tear slid down her cheek. “Please.”Perhaps, had it been someone else, he might have considered the possibility of it all. But his mother was dead, and Madeline had wielded the dagger. In that moment, all he saw was her body, and the blood o

LloydRenae swiveled, displeasure curling her thin lips. Her fingers rose, snapping twice to the bed. "I'll have you know there are worse ways to cause you pain. Lay down. Now."Lloyd's gaze flicked to the bed and back to the Luna's hazel eyes--Kier's eyes. "Randale knows. It's only a matter of time before Kier finds out. I cannot do this with you anymore, Renae." He paused, pain tightening his throat. "You gave your word to help Nadine get out if we did this. You have done nothing to that effort."Renae shrugged off her robe, placing it against her chair. She settled on the edge of the bed, raising her chemise high enough for Lloyd to peek the smooth skin between her thighs. The heady scent of arousal teased his nostrils. "Getting a message to Atticus is harder than you think it is, and receiving a response is just as difficult. Your sister will be home, safe, as long as you play your part. I'll have no more complaints from you. Come here," she said, parting her legs wider.Lloyd hat

JessamineThe ride to Aldenwood is a two-day journey. Twelve hours in and I’m already miserable.Between the scorching sun beating down on me, the saddle bruising my thighs and Kier’s gaze digging into my back, I can’t tell which is the main cause of my abject misery. I forge ahead, taking a swig from my water skin, and I wipe the sweat from my neck, panting.I nearly fled from the castle in the early hours of this morning. Very nearly. But I decided I would see this to the end, even if Kier no longer has respect or interest in me because of my mother’s roots. I’ve never been one to leave things half way done. I am in no mood to explain that my mother’s choices DO NOT define who I am, and if he rejects me one more because of this, I swear the Moon and Sun Goddess that I will kill him in his sleep.Alright, maybe that’s a little too extreme. I could totally pull a Moira. Intoxicate his drink, have sex with him in that state and have his children. That’s a plan I would totally pull off

JessamineThe last lock of hair falls across my cheek and the maid steps away, letting me look at myself. To paint a picture of virtue, purity and submission, it is tradition that all unmated women dress in nothing but white to the Howling. No adornments, either facial paintings or jewelry. Nothing other than a plain, white dress, that hides nothing of our bodies underneath. Why wear so much when it gets ripped during the shift?We may wear cloaks, until the main event starts, after which we shed them, sing to the Goddess, dance around bonfires with cups filled with liquor and bodies slick with heat. Then we shift and run into the wild, giving into the beastly side; becoming one with the air, wind, earth and heat. We? Who’s we? I’m not even one of them, and I have a feeling I’ll never be. The possibility that my dress will be drenched in blood tonight is rather high, and not even the daggers I’ve strapped to my thighs make feel less vulnerable. Exposed. Already, I can hear the beati