Born of Fire and Fangs
1.1k Views · Ongoing · J.Laine
Maevyrn (Maeve) Grew up in the human world. Beaten daily by her mother. A stranger who claims to be her father swoops in and brings her to moonlight academy where all things that go bump in the night attend. She had read about these creatures but had never thought she could be one of them. All the lies and betrayal lead to only one thing.
3 Mates, 2 Prophecies, and only 1 destiny.
Will Maeve choose to fight against them and save their pack, or fight with them and destroy everything.
My fingers pressed to the fresh mark beneath my ear. It pulsed faintly, aching—not from pain. From absence.
From her.
I closed my eyes and tried again, just like I had the past five minutes. I reached for her through the mate bond, through the invisible tether.
“She marked me,” I whispered, voice raw. “And now she’s gone. What the fuck does that even mean?”
I curled myself tighter into the hoodie I’d thrown over my shoulders—her hoodie, oversized and frayed at the cuffs, still smelling like firewood and wind and whatever wild scent always clung to her. I wrapped her blanket tighter around me, but it didn’t help. It just made everything worse.
Because it wasn’t her arms. And it may never be. I stood up suddenly, the grief boiling into anger, into motion. I paced the room like a storm bottled in a body. My mind kept flashing to her face, glowing gold in the candlelight, shadows flickering across her jaw, those haunted eyes that held so many fucking secrets. To many fucking secrets.
3 Mates, 2 Prophecies, and only 1 destiny.
Will Maeve choose to fight against them and save their pack, or fight with them and destroy everything.
My fingers pressed to the fresh mark beneath my ear. It pulsed faintly, aching—not from pain. From absence.
From her.
I closed my eyes and tried again, just like I had the past five minutes. I reached for her through the mate bond, through the invisible tether.
“She marked me,” I whispered, voice raw. “And now she’s gone. What the fuck does that even mean?”
I curled myself tighter into the hoodie I’d thrown over my shoulders—her hoodie, oversized and frayed at the cuffs, still smelling like firewood and wind and whatever wild scent always clung to her. I wrapped her blanket tighter around me, but it didn’t help. It just made everything worse.
Because it wasn’t her arms. And it may never be. I stood up suddenly, the grief boiling into anger, into motion. I paced the room like a storm bottled in a body. My mind kept flashing to her face, glowing gold in the candlelight, shadows flickering across her jaw, those haunted eyes that held so many fucking secrets. To many fucking secrets.