Had I smelled him before leaving the pack, I would never have taken more than two steps into this restaurant. But that’s the thing about glimpses into the future; information is never complete. So much for a unique wolf attribute. “Turn to me, Alba. I will not ask again.” This time, he speaks the words and waves off the server for privacy, privacy I could do well without. If I act any more suspiciously, he might catch on to the secrets I carry, so I turn and bow without meeting his gaze, yet even that minuscule act causes my animosity towards him to yield at the despicably enticing scent he exudes. “I greet his majesty, the Lycan King of Ketria.” I respond using the link he formed, and rather than free me from this hideous responsibility, he steps right before me and lifts my gaze from the inky blackness of his shoes to meet the silver of his eyes. Christ, but the man is the definition of perfection. His long white lashes and cropped silverish-white hair grant him an ethereal-l

Marko N. Ivanov “How could he do this? How could he do this to me?” Mother’s scream was audible through the halls, each question perfectly punctuated by the shattering of more hallway décor. With a mere announcement, the most regal wolf in the kingdom was reduced to hysterics—a sight he had never witnessed before. The butler was the first to shield Marko from the ferocious howls that followed. This act added to his tension by confirming that what was indeed wrong was diabolically irreparable. "Is there some sort of proof that they are mates?” His question came off with more emotion than he, as the heir to the throne, was permitted to portray. "His-" The butler hesitated, gazing left and right as though he was about to utter words that would endanger his life. “His majesty was the one to proclaim that, so we must believe his words. Even the elder council remains in disarray.” "What of mother? What becomes of her now?" That wasn’t what he wished to ask; what he meant to ask wa

Alba’s blood purifies toxins. Marko repeated the thought in his head as if he could have misheard it. Suddenly, sitting felt like the worst position, so he stood, yet his legs felt too restless to keep still. Before long, he was pacing, trying his best to piece the information coming his way with his stirring emotions, but when he finally failed, he turned to the physician. “Explain it in a way that I can understand.” “Well!” She began excitedly with no heed to his tension. “When you first brought the former princess to me, every test I did said she overdosed on wolfsbane, but she was still alive, which is impossible! She should have died ten times over with the amount in her blood; that’s when it hit me; the amount of wolfsbane in her body was the reason she turned! Like an adverse reaction because her wolf form purifies faster.” Sharon paced as she prattled on words that did not make sense to him. Wolfsbane? Overdosed? What the hell? What more did Alba keep from him? “Get

"I will." His answer comes with no hesitation that it stings despite the ‘rejection’ being my suggestion. I can understand his clarity; the outcome of our situation as 'stepsiblings' and ‘royals’ is inevitable. Yet even if we did not have those barriers to hide behind, I am certain rejection would have been the outcome; we are but a match made in hell. “Good.” I respond, hoping no emotion laces my voice. “I’d like to bathe; give me space.” He does not budge; he merely shakes his head from left to right and points to the bathroom. Great. I do not blame him for not trusting me; the thought of escape has not entirely left my mind. Any other time, I would have sassed him into submitting to my demand for bathing privacy, but I can feel tears whose origin I cannot fully place threaten to flood my eyes, so before they grow noticeable, I rush to the bathroom and shut the door to lean on it as they spill. Utterly ridiculous that I can feel this deeply over nothing, yet even my express

The Lycan’s hold on me had lessened, and I could no longer hide my arousal behind his aggression.After his trace of my bruised buttock, his restless hand lifts my hoodie, which matches the pants pooling on my ankles, to expose my chest to him. He tugs my bra low, settling my breasts atop them and while I wait for him to grant my stiff peaks attention, he doesn’t; it is as if he only meant them for his view."Please."I whisper, hoping he would, at the very least, soothe the rising need that threatened to claim the very air from my lungs; I almost sigh in relief as he presses his lips to my nipples, rubbing his softness against their stiffness so steadily that I hold my breath, ready for the feel of his warm moist tongue, only it doesn't come."You know what I want.”He whispers his response with his face buried in the softness of my bosom as he once again inhales me.“Call out the name of the man you deem disappointing.”I bite my tongue to stop myself from yielding to his demand; we