Liora was asleep when a howl cut through the night.
Sharp. Wild.
It crawled down her spine and slammed into her chest.
"She bolted upright, breath hitching as her wolf stirred beneath her skin."
Then, another howl, closer than the first one.
She didn't hesitate. She pushed open the balcony doors, climbed up the rail, and jumped.
Mid-air, she shifted, bones cracking, fur rushing over skin , she landed gracefully as a white wolf, her blue eyes observing the surroundings.
>Time to put Sera's plan in motion.
Silently, she slipped past the guards and into the woods.
The howl came again.
Behind her.
She skidded to a stop, heart pounding. Slowly, she turned.
A massive black wolf stood still as stone, eyes silver, watching her.
The scent of vanilla mixed with sandalwood and clean musk hit Liora hard.
Zyra shifted first, the change fluid and aggressive.
And what stood under the moonlight made Liora's heart skip.
The Alpha was tall and her body was sculpted like it belonged on a battlefield and a throne. Her waist dipped in perfectly, her hips full, her breasts high and firm, and her golden-brown skin glowed under the moonlight.
Liora shifted too….
Zyra's eyes were glued on her…the Omega's scent was a mix of moonflower, wild honey, and lavender
She stood tall, graceful, Long white hair cascaded down her back, flowing with the wind. Her waist was slender, her hips soft and curved. She had the kind of body sculpted by nature, delicate-looking, but forged with quiet endurance.
Her breasts rose gently with every breath. And there was nothing fragile about her stare.
Her blue eyes locked with Zyra's.
Then, The Alpha lunged….
In a blink, Liora was slammed against a tree, Zyra's hand tight around her throat.
"Moonveil," Zyra hissed. "The Goddess must be joking."
Their bare bodies pressed together
Liora's heart raced.
"Get your hand off my throat," she whispered.
"Why should I?" Zyra growled, tightening her grip. "The bond chose you? A wild and cursed little thing from a useless pack? Give me one reason not to crush your throat."
The pressure of Zyra's hand burned against her throat.
Liora's wolf clawed beneath her skin, feeling pleased with the touch from her mate.
The heat was a lot now, her body was already reacting to the Alpha.
She let out deep breaths as her breasts brushed against Zyra's chest.
"Because if you keep touching me like this, Alpha…" she leaned in, "…I might enjoy it."
Zyra's jaw twitched.
Her senses were clouded with
Heat.
Rage.
Desire.
She shoved Liora back but not far.
Liora stayed upright, eyes defiant.
"You think I'm weak because I look like this?" she asked, lips parting slightly.
Zyra didn't answer.
Liora smirked, moved fast and kicked her in the stomach, sending the Alpha flying back.
Zyra crashed against a tree, stunned.
What the hell?
How could an Omega...?
Rage exploded in her chest.
She charged.
Her fist slammed into Liora's face.
Liora stumbled, then wiped the blood off her lip.
"I didn't come here to fight. I came to end this."
She stepped forward, voice rising.
"I, Liora Veylan, True Blood Omega of the Moonveil Pack, hereby reject—" she paused.
Wait, What's your name? A rejection can't happen without saying your name ...."
Zyra blinked, her chest tightened like something inside was tearing. She ignored it. Or tried to.
"Pathetic," She muttered
She shifted back to her wolf form. The wolf looked at Liora intensely , making Liora feel uneasy.
It turned and sprinted back into the shadows.
Liora stood there, chest heaving, the rejection unfinished.
And the bond still burning.
**********
(The Tomb of the vampire king)
Three witches stood before the ancient tomb.
The tomb was carved with ancient fangs and moons, its stone lid cracked and shadows flickered across their faces as they chanted.
"Xylnor verath ku'shal dremm,
Aran'veth mori'nax rem,
Blethna'kar, si'val kroth,
Rise, rise… from dust and oath."
Sythea cackled softly, brushing dust off the sealed stone. "It's time."
Edris peered in. "He's barely bone and ash."
"He only needs blood," Morgath sneered. "And I brought a gift."
She dragged a werewolf forward. His wrists were bound, his mouth bloodied. He struggled, whimpering.
"Please... let me go..."
Morgath smiled. "Why would I do that? Your kind irritates me. And I'm sure the king agrees."
She raised a ceremonial dagger, black steel etched with crimson runes and with one brutal slash, opened the man's throat.
Blood spilled like wine, pouring into the mouth of the tomb.
They chanted again
"Brelthos nadir, kynar fell,
Open gates of silent hell,
Kreni'sha val, deth'mor zen,
Let the old god walk again."
The stone vibrated.
Then silence, the air chilled , it felt as though the earth was holding its breath.
Until….
A violent gasp.
The corpse inside twitched.
Veins darkened beneath pale, papery skin. Then, inch by inch, color returned. Flesh pulsed. Muscles knit together.
Crimson eyes snapped open.
Veyron Deuce sat up.
The vampire king grabbed the dying wolf and drank deep….draining the life out of him until his body filled, restored, glorious again.
The witches stepped back, watching with grim satisfaction.
"You owe us for this," Sythea said.
Veyron rose from the tomb, fully naked, his body now flawless…. perfect. He looked every inch a god of the underworld.
A servant standing by quickly draped a black robe over his shoulders.
Veyron didn't look at him.
"Draw my bath," he murmured. "And take off your clothes. I need….relief."
The servant's breath hitched. "Y…yes, sire."
Edris arched a brow. "Already in full swing, Deuce?"
Sythea scoffed. "Don't break the poor boy."
Veyron turned, flashing his fangs. "That, I can't promise."
He looked up at the moon.
His voice dropped, almost reverent.
"One hundred years…"
His eyes glowed, deep crimson.
"…and I still feel her beautiful, powerful presence."
Sythea stepped forward, her eyes sharp.
"Calm down, Veyron. She has to be willing to come with you. If you force it… your plans won't work."
Morgath let out a low laugh.
"Let's play a game that brings her right to you."
His lips curved into a cruel smile.
"I'm coming for you, my Night Omega."