The Witch and the Wolf

The fire crackled between them, its embers glowing like Lorcan’s hungry gaze.

Liora sat with her back against an ancient oak, her ribs still aching from the battle. Bardan had gone to scout the forest’s edge, leaving her alone with the Alpha—exactly as she’d both dreaded and, shamefully, wanted.

Lorcan traced the rim of his dagger with a calloused thumb. "Your magic," he murmured. "It tastes like starlight."

She stiffened. "Don’t."

He leaned in, close enough that his breath warmed her neck. "Don’t what? Don’t admire you? Don’t want you?" His teeth grazed her earlobe. "Too late."

A shiver raced down her spine, not from fear.

Then the whispers started.

---

"Liora..."

It slithered through her mind, sweet as poisoned honey. Not Lorcan’s voice. Something older.

"You called us, little witch. Now let us in."

She gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. Lorcan went rigid. "What is it?"

"You don’t hear that?" Her voice shook.

His eyes darkened. "No. But I’ve seen this before. The magic, it talks. And it lies."

The voice laughed, echoing in her bones. "He fears what he doesn’t understand. But you could know everything. Power. Secrets. The truth about your precious Bardan..."

Her nails bit into her palms. "What truth?"

"Liora." Bardan’s voice cut through the night as he emerged from the trees, his gaze darting between her and Lorcan. "We need to go. Now."

The voice hissed, fading. "Soon."

---

The village inn was cramped, the single bed barely wide enough for one.

"I’ll take the floor," Bardan muttered, tossing his pack down.

Lorcan smirked. "Generous. But the witch doesn’t want floor." He prowled toward Liora, trailing a finger down her arm. "Do you?"

Bardan moved like lightning, slamming Lorcan against the wall. "Touch her again, and I’ll rip your throat out."

Lorcan laughed, low and dangerous. "You could try."

Liora stepped between them, her palms flat on their chests. Their heartbeats thundered under her fingertips. Wild, furious, alive.

"Enough," she breathed.

A charged silence. Then…

Bardan’s hand curled around her wrist, his thumb pressing into her pulse. "Choose."

Lorcan’s lips brushed her other ear. "Him or me."

The voice in her mind purred. "Why not both?"

---

Midnight. The old stone altar in the woods.

Liora stood barefoot in the moonlight, her nightgown clinging to her skin. The voice had been clear: Blood for answers.

She pressed the silver dagger to her palm.

"Don’t."

Bardan emerged from the shadows, his eyes blazing. "Whatever it promised you, It’s a trick."

Lorcan appeared on her other side, his warmth seeping into her back. "Or it’s the only way to survive."

The dagger trembled in her grip.

Bardan cupped her face. "Please."

Lorcan nipped her shoulder. "Do it."

The voice crooned. "Blood is power, little witch. And you were born to burn."

With a gasp, she sliced her palm open.

The world exploded in black flames.

---

The black flames licked up Liora’s arms, cold as winter and twice as cruel.

Bardan lunged for her, but Lorcan was faster. His arms banded around her waist, yanking her back against his chest. "Too late, traitor," he growled, his breath hot on her neck. "She’s already chosen."

Liora tried to scream, but the voice in her mind swallowed the sound.

"Mine."

Then…

Darkness.

---

She woke in a bed of furs, her wrists bound above her head with silken cords. The room was round, ancient, the walls carved with runes that pulsed like a heartbeat.

Lorcan loomed over her, his golden eyes gleaming in the torchlight. "Welcome home, witch."

She yanked at the binds. "Let me go."

He smirked, dragging a claw down her bare stomach. "Make me."

The door crashed open.

Bardan stood framed in moonlight, his chest heaving, his blade dripping black blood. "Step away from her."

Lorcan sighed. "You’re exhausting." Then he turned back to Liora and licked a stripe up her throat.

Bardan’s roar shook the stones.

---

The fight was brutal.

Bardan fought like a man possessed, his silver dagger flashing. Lorcan matched him blow for blow, his laughter echoing off the walls.

Liora writhed against her bonds then froze.

Because the voice whispered again.

"Lorcan isn’t what he seems."

And then she saw it.

A flicker in the torchlight. Lorcan’s shadow, it didn’t match his body.

It was taller. Thinner.

Hungrier.

---

"Stop!" Liora screamed.

Both men froze.

She stared at Lorcan, her voice trembling. "What are you?"

For a heartbeat, silence.

Then Lorcan smiled and it was all teeth. "Clever girl." His body rippled, his edges blurring, until…

A stranger stood before them.

Tall. Pale. Eyes like bottomless pits.

"Hello, Liora," the thing crooned. "I’ve been waiting centuries for you."

Bardan went deathly still. "The First Wolf."

The creature laughed. "And now I’ll have the last." Its gaze slid to Liora. "Unless you’d rather trade?"

---

"What do you want?" she whispered.

The First Wolf stepped closer, its cold fingers tracing her jaw. "Your blood opened the door. Your heart will seal the pact." Its smile widened. "Or his."

It pointed at Bardan.

"Choose."

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