RONAN The blood moon casts its ominous glow over the forest clearing, painting everything in shades of crimson. I can feel the pull of the moon like fire in my veins, heightening my senses, pushing the wolf inside me to the edge of control. But tonight, it’s worse. So much worse. Because Isabelle isn’t here….
KHURZOG I stood in the kitchen, shirtless, bare feet on the cold boards. My hands shook while I cracked the eggs. I rolled my sleeves up out of habit, even though there was no shirt to roll. My arms still smelled of her — sweat, blood, magic, and sex. The echo of her power was…
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LAYLA The light was wrong. Too soft. Too pale. It slanted in through the thin curtains like spilled cream, hazy and golden-dusty. I could see particles hanging in the air, shifting with breath. Somewhere nearby, metal glinted — a brass-knuckled cudgel half-slung over the back of a chair, a pair of boxing gloves nailed to…
APRIL 2010 — LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA The park didn’t like visitors after dark. The trees leaned in close listening for secrets, and the air smelled like wet stone and beer-soaked shame. Somewhere off in the distance, a raccoon screamed — maybe over territory, maybe jazz. Bob Robson stepped through a bent gap in the chain-link…
LAYLA I lay back, the sheets rough under my skin, still damp from sweat and my spent. My chest rose and fell too fast, my lips slick with him. He didn’t give me time to catch my breath. His hands were on me again — palms wide, calloused, spreading me out. Not gentle. But he…
MAEVE The dress fits me like a vice. Each breath feels heavier, like the weight of the moon itself is pressing down on my lungs. I can feel the soft brush of lace against my skin as the attendants make their final adjustments, whispering hurriedly around me. Their voices blend into an incomprehensible hum, but…
LAYLA I felt like a sack of potatoes slung over his shoulder. Heavy, awkward. I hated how natural it must have felt for him to carry me like that, as if I weighed no more than a bag of grain. My hips, my thighs, the round swell of me — all of it made me…
The blistering sun hung high over the jagged ridges of the Sierra Madre mountains, casting long, dark shadows into the dry, unforgiving valleys below. Dr. Henry “Indiana” Jones, hat firmly on his head and leather whip coiled at his side, navigated his way up a narrow mountain path. His boots kicked up fine dust as…