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Runaway Unatha

"You," He repeated, his breath coming out rather heavily as he took a step closer to me. In that moment, it was as if my body was on the verge of erupting into flames. To have him near me was to feel the pull of desire, an overwhelming need to touch him, to let my fingers dance across his face, and to surrender to the promise of all the things he could do to me. His eyes stared deeply, probing as if attempting to unearth every dark secret I had ever hidden throughout my life. Within his gaze, there were two emotions locked in a fierce battle for control: desire and disgust. As he opened his mouth to speak, his eyes were filled with hatred. "You don't have a wolf." ~ In the wolf pack of Nightfang, where power and privilege reigned supreme, Unatha was an anomaly. A girl without a wolf, she had been rejected by her so-called mate and left to navigate the treacherous and dangerous world on her. But destiny had other plans. In a twist of fate, Unatha discovered that her heart was meant for another, not just any other, but the Alpha King, a powerful Lycan whose authority was unchallenged. As the secrets of her true lineage unraveled, Unatha found herself at the center of a supernatural world far more complex than she could have ever imagined. As she delved deeper into this hidden realm, Unatha unearthed ancient rivalries, unearthly powers, and a love she never thought possible. But in this perilous journey, not all were allies, and not all were what they seemed.

ZuriA03 · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
64 Chs

Bonding

"What happened to the pack house?" I asked, momentarily forgetting about the news Elder Tali had broken to me. Zane said nothing and used his leg to kick open the front door before entering it. The bungalow was a quaint space, littered with pictures of two females. One was an older woman with a warm smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners as if she had a lifetime of stories to share. The other was a younger woman, vibrant and full of life, her laughter echoing through the frames.

His mother and sister, I presumed.

The furniture in the room was a testament to the taste of whoever had decorated this place. The sofas were plush and inviting, their rich fabric suggesting both elegance and comfort. A well-worn armchair in the corner held a promise of hours spent lost in thought or engrossed in a good book.