Chapter 16 The Hunt Begins
Aldric POV
Her scent hit me like a blade to the ribs.
Faint. Weeks old human city rot clogging the air around it. But beneath all that, beneath asphalt, car exhaust, and the concrete stench of Denver, there she was.
Warm, sweet, and storm kissed. Ravelyn. I stalked through the forest behind her apartment building, with my nostrils flaring, and every muscle strung tight. My beast, Gialt, slammed against the inside of my skull.
"Ours. Ours. Ours."
“Shut the hell up,” I muttered under my breath, though my voice came out rough, more growl than speech.
The trail led me to the building. Her windows. Her balcony. She was gone. But the place reeked of panic, magic, and heat. A female entering Ravelyn heat.
Gialt let out a guttural roar inside me.
"We must claim her NOW."
“Not yet,” I snarled. “We find her first.”
I followed her scent to her apartment door, it was cracked open, and hanging weakly from the frame. Her place had been torn apart. Clothes were shredded. Furniture was overturned. Someone had raided the space like scavengers.
Her underwear, her lingerie, and her personal things, all missing.
“Bastards,” I hissed, grabbing a handful of torn bedding and inhaling until my vision blurred.
Her fear. Her heat. Her anger. Delicious. Then....A shift in the air behind me. I didn’t turn. Didn’t breathe. Just listened. Three heartbeats. Quick, and nervous. Too steady to be human.
The Broker’s men. Of course. Right on cue.
I smirked. “Took you long enough.”
A hiss of steel. A spell charging. Then they lunged.
I spun, caught the first by the throat, and slammed him into the wall hard enough to crack the plaster. He gargled as I twisted, and his spine snapped like a twig.
The second drove a blade toward my ribs. I caught his wrist mid-strike, tore it clean off, and shoved the bones through his own throat. He gurgled and choked on his blood.
The third tried to run. Mistake. I was on him in seconds, shifting halfway, letting my claws rip through his flesh. He screamed as I gutted him, and blood painted the hall.
When he fell still, I wiped my hands on his cloak and laughed.
“Keep coming, fucker,” I muttered, my voice low and feral. “I’ll kill every damned one you send.”
But her scent was fading. I needed to find a fresher trail. I headed straight to the Wylde & Rafe Tower.
Core warding like that shouldn’t have let me in, especially not with my bloodline. But I was old. Older than most remembered. And rage was a good lockpick. I powered through the barrier with a snarl. The wards sizzled, screaming against my aura, but they cracked, just enough.
Once inside....her scent nearly knocked me to my knees. Sex. Heat. The unmistakable musk of multiple males. My lip curled, and fury boiled beneath my skin.
“They touched you,” I growled softly. “They think you belong to them.”
Gialt roared so loud I staggered.
"BREED HER. CLAIM HER. SHE IS OURS ALONE."
“Soon,” I whispered, gripping a doorframe hard enough that the wood splintered. “Soon, little Ravelyn.”
I searched the penthouse floor, and her scent was everywhere. Everywhere except here, where I stood.
Too late. They had moved her. I tore open a desk drawer and stole a wallet full of cash, a set of keys, and a jacket. I wasn’t above theft. Not when it came to chasing her.
I left the tower and got into a sleek red Mercedes and headed into town. My rage was still simmering, and I got a room in a hotel under a false name, and dropped into the restaurant below. Whiskey burned down my throat, one glass after another.
I imagined her, with her fair skin flushed from Ravelyn heat, her thighs trembling, those unearthly Ravelyn eyes trying to understand why the world wanted to devour her.
And why I would devour her the hardest. Not for love. Not for tenderness. For destiny. For bloodlines. For power.
She was the key.
My pups growing inside her? An unstoppable dynasty.
I ordered another whiskey.
“Sir, you’ve had...”
“Pour it.”
She scurried away. By the time I stumbled to my room, no wards, no senses, just drunken obsession, I collapsed fully clothed on the bed.
Only minutes passed before cold hands dragged me awake. A prick of something sharp jabbed my neck. My limbs went heavy.
Drugged.
I snarled, and tried to shift, but my wolf slammed hopelessly against the tranquilizer. Shadows gathered around me as they hauled me upright. My vision blurred, but I recognized the swirling black cloaks.
The Broker’s hunters.
Again.
“Fuck you,” I slurred, as my head lolled. “You fucking bastard.”
The world tilted. Darkness swallowed me.
And the last thing I heard was a voice whispering:
“Your king wants a word.”
\~~~~~
Ysara POV
I woke to the smell of bacon.
Which was honestly the best incentive to keep living at this point. After the last forty-eight hours of trauma, chase scenes, mating frenzies, magical implosions, and four men trying to rearrange my spine for recreational purposes, bacon was the one solid constant in my life.
I stretched, groaned, and blinked at the ridiculous master bedroom. It felt like a bougie apocalypse bunker for the world’s hottest men.
A girl could get used to this.
I slipped out of bed and headed to the closet. Darken apparently believed in stocking every residence he owned like a horny fashion designer with unlimited credit. I picked tight dark jeans that hugged my ass like a religion and a soft cream sweater that dipped low enough to flash cleavage for half a mile. Perfect.
Makeup next. Quick but deadly. Mascaras, sharp liner, and gloss that made my lips look edible. My pink and teal hair was wild and gorgeous because fate loved me but also hated me.
When I stepped into the kitchen, the men went dead silent. Four pairs of eyes. Four different flavors of feral.
Wyatt let out a full-body growl. “Fucking hell.”
Rafe’s spoon clattered to the counter. “Why would you come down here looking like that?”
Kalesh blinked like he forgot how to use his lungs.
Darken pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and muttered, “Spicy chaos. Unholy woman.”
I smiled, slow and smug. “Watcha cooking? I’m starving.”
Wyatt pointed at the table like he was presenting an offering to a goddess. “Sit. Food. Now.”
There was a mountain of pancakes. A cloud of bacon. A lake of orange juice. Probably enough food for a small army or one girl who had ravaged four men into unconsciousness.
“Did you guys… make all this?” I asked, stunned.
Rafe puffed up like a proud peacock. “We feed what we claim.”
Kalesh added quietly, “Keeping you nourished nourishes our bond.”
Darken smirked. “Translation: eat, little queen, or the lycans will have an aneurysm.”
I laughed and dug in. Holy. Shit.
“Who taught you to cook like this?” I mumbled around a mouthful.
“Pack life,” Wyatt said. “You learn fast when you live with hungry beasts.”
“You are hungry beasts.”
“Accurate,” Rafe muttered.
They watched me eat like they were earning badges in Domestic Obsession 101. Every bite I took, one of them exhaled. Every time I reached for the syrup, someone groaned.
By the time I was done, Darken looked like he needed a cold shower and Wyatt was ready to propose marriage to my empty plate.
I wiped my mouth. “Okay. Super sweet moment, but we need answers. Like yesterday.”
They exchanged glances. And then we walked to the library.
Calling it a library was rude. This was an ancient cathedral of knowledge built by someone who collected books like dragons collected treasure. The ceilings were vaulted. The shelves towered. There were actual spiral staircases.
I gasped. “This is my dream.”
Darken’s lips quirked. “I thought the bed was your dream.”
“The bed is my horny dream. This is my nerd dream.”
Kalesh ran his hand along a shelf. “The Ravelyn line has always been of great interest to scholars. Perhaps we will find something here.”
Wyatt grabbed a ladder and climbed. Rafe prowled along the bottom shelves. I drifted toward an ancient section labeled Obscura Vitae. Spooky and sexy. My vibe entirely.
We found three massive tomes on Ravelyns, their covers were bound in hide and they were marked with sigils older than time. When I set them on the table, the center book vibrated.
Then....FWOMP. It flew open on its own, slamming to a page illustrated with a figure that looked eerily like… me. Great. Love that for my impending identity crisis.
Kalesh whispered reverently, “The book recognizes you.”
Rafe leaned closer, reading aloud. “‘Ravelyn: the mirror-born queen. A force of desire, choice, and amplification.’”
“Amplification?” I echoed.
Darken read the next part. “‘A Ravelyn bonds with many. Each mate becomes stronger in her presence, and through them, she gains their power in reflection.’”
Wyatt’s eyebrows shot up. “That… actually makes sense.”
Rafe nodded. “My strength has almost doubled since your first pulse.”
Darken tapped his temple. “My magic is clearer. Sharper. I can feel your influence threading through mine.”
Kalesh rested a hand over his heart. “My senses have expanded. My speed, my hunting instinct, my connection to the forest.”
I blinked, absorbing it all.
“So I’m basically a supernatural battery pack?”
Darken snorted. “More like a supernatural nuclear reactor.”
Wyatt flipped the page. “‘Ravelyns are desired by all. Fought over. Protected. Sought. Their heat cycles can topple kingdoms.’”
Rafe groaned. “We noticed.”
I raised a brow. “You complaining?”
All four: “No.”
I laughed, and my chest loosened, and the fear mixed with awe.
“So what else do I do?”
Kalesh pointed at a glowing paragraph. “‘She chooses. She binds. She crowns. She becomes the heart of her circle.’”
“The… what?”
Darken’s voice softened. “Your circle of mates. Your power grows with each one you accept. And theirs grows with you.”
Wyatt pressed his palm to mine. “We’re stronger together. You were born for us. And we were born for you.”
I swallowed hard. My throat tightened. Darken’s hand froze on the turning page. His brows drew together, and his eyes sharpened into pure obsidian focus.
“Ysara,” he murmured, his voice strangely careful. “There’s… more.”
Wyatt stiffened beside me. Kalesh went predator-still. Rafe leaned closer like he expected Darken to read something about imminent doom or orgies.
Darken cleared his throat and read slowly, each word sinking into my bones like fate carving itself into my skin.
The Prophecy of the Mirrorborne Queen
Born of flame and hunted breath,
the last Mirrorborne shall rise from death.
With heart unbound and bonds of choice,
she wakes the world with Ravelyn voice.
When Moon and Mirror join in crown,
the kings shall kneel, the thrones shall drown.
Ten shadows guard, two suns shall stand,
blood unbroken shapes the land.
The Broker falls in shattered gold,
the Exiled Wolf shall break his hold.
What once was purged shall rise again,
and love shall bind where war has been.
And another passage about 10-12 mates.
Wyatt was the first to speak. “Ten to twelve?”
Rafe rubbed his face. “We can barely handle the four of us and she’s supposed to collect a whole damn set?”
Kalesh’s eyes burned emerald-gold. “This is destiny. The Ravelyn must reunite the fractured clans. Only a circle of many can stabilize her power.”
My mouth fell open. “I’m sorry… I’m supposed to have WHAT?”
Darken lifted his gaze to mine, and his expression was unreadable but intense. “A Ravelyn thrives with a circle, a large one. Your magic needs multiple anchors. And the world… needs you connected to many realms. Many species.”
Wyatt groaned. “Well that explains why every supernatural in a five-mile radius started panting like horny wolves the second she hit heat.”
Rafe muttered, “Twelve mates. Twelve. Fuck me.”
I was never fucking too much.
I was exactly built for this fucking chaos.