Chapter 21 – The Sacred Book

“The best secrets are the most twisted.“–Sara Shepard

Kiya

“We’re going to put a stop to this, Kiki. I promise.”

The distance between my friend and me is less than an inch, but her voice sounded like it was miles away. It garbles and jumbles like a faulty telephone connection. None of her words registered; it kicked them out as the recent exposé ricochets around my mind.

I’m marked like a dog urinating on its favorite tree.

I’m not an object, yet I’m treated like one. I don’t know what Osiris has planned and the possibilities alarm me. That malevolent being is cloaked in a cloud of mystery–hovering about, laying cryptic messages for me to decipher. Despite a protection barrier cast over the territory, Osiris still has a chance of slipping through.

But he isn’t the only adversary that needs to be dealt with.

There’s Odessa the surly traitor and Jonathan the petulant psychopath. Two enemies that couldn’t be any more alike, yet so drastically different. One wants me dead, and the other wants me obedient. Both are going to catch these fists in their jaws.

Bubble and boil. Trouble and toil. Once again, my anger rises to the occasion. Flowing through me like hot lava, it sizzles and steams in my veins. It dances across my nerve endings, building tempo and speed the more. it gathers. The hatred of how my life has become is tangible enough for me to hug, sinking into my soul.

How hard is it for me to get some f*cking happiness?

“I know,” I growl softly. “I rather it be sooner than later. I’m dealing with so much shit and it’s a wonder why I haven’t lost my mind yet.”

“You’re a formidable woman, Kiya.”

“Well, sometimes I’m tired of being strong.” I vent, rubbing my temples as pressure builds up in my head. “I deserve a f*cking break! Odessa is on my a*s twenty–four–seven because she’s convinced that I stole Neron away when I didn’t want the man in the first place, Jonathan is forcing me to accept Neron as my mate and to shut up and make babies, and now Osiris has marked me for who–the–hell–knows–what! Why can’t I just lie in my bed and eat pie?!”

“You did that once. You ate four pies in a row.”

“One time I ate seven, but the flavor was Boston Crème Pie and it was delicious! No regrets.” I giggle at the recollection of when Mom came into my room and chastised me for consuming all that sugar. Her words fell on deaf ears because I promptly passed into a pie coma minutes after.

Mom banned me from eating pies for a full month.

Phoebe smiles. Her hand gently brushed against my curls with her magic fingers sinking into my scalp. I’m a stickler about who I let touch my hair, but her gentleness is always welcome. “You out of us all know how life refuses to be merciful. No matter how much we beg or pray, it throws us into more turmoil. I’m not saying

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21+ The Sacred

through, you’re strong because it’s ingrained in your character and your spirit.

serenity. A purr escaped my lips as my head rests on her shoulder. “Please keep

will as long as you answer a question for me.”

ears perked up in curiosity.

“You sai

to mate with

and whatnot.” I shrug nonchalantly. Jonathan’s reasons aren’t and will never be enough to convince me to accept his son

“Hmm.”

I forget about that? Leaping off my bed like a kangaroo, I scamper to my closet and began throwing my clothes every which way to find what I’m looking for. If

it open for the first time played like a movie reel.

as

an avatar is overwhelming. No matter the god or goddess they represent, there’s always the element of danger. We have to remain cautious and our powers can create chaos. Osiris is proof of that–an avatar who’s evil. Deep in my heart,

supreme.

the most powerful werewolf alive? I don’t know. But it’s a burden. All I ever

the book. Purple eyes widened with amazement and curiosity. Her nimble fingers gently caressed the brown leather cover before maneuvering to the silver lock. She flipped the book over to be met with disappointment from a lacking title or other identifying

say that it’s beautiful, But, there’s an element

up a needle from my vanity and pricked a finger until a decent–sized drop of blood came out. Pressing my nicked finger to the lock, the book sang a sharp ‘Click!“. The witch blinked, delicately opening and

Have you

go past the first page before the craziness settled in. I, kind of, forgot about

The Sacred

the time and this would have

became absorbed in the book, flipping through the pages as if she’s alone in my room. Her mind took in the new information, processed it, and stored it in her long–term memory. She soaked up knowledge like a sponge. Back home, Phoebe is a demure woman often found reading from a scroll, a spell book, or just a normal book at her home. She’s a bookworm–and the

“Found anything interesting?”

Jonathan is adamant about you and Neron mating.” Her delicate finger points to a passage several pages deep in the

sacred and special. The first recorded white wolf was found in 3000 BCE after Selene created the first werewolves. Her

born from Selene’s hand through the centuries, the danger continued to heighten until

As it is common for all wolves to have a mate, the white wolf also has one. However, because of their hunts for their powers and blood, they die willingly or unwillingly before they have time to find their fated partner. There are no known living wolves who are descendants

a unique and powerful bloodline where their offspring possess innate powers directly passed down from them. As for their fated mate, they have a share of their power and thus become a formidable werewolf themselves. However, the mate of the white wolf must be pure of heart because the power of the avatar can

be stronger, faster than average, and nearly unstoppable if they wield their new powers wisely. Selene is incredibly cautious when designing the sacred partner for her treasured children, but they are not exempt from the consecrated rules of mating. If the white wolf forsakes

wolf. If one white wolf defies

I blinked.

Phoebe blinked.

wants me to mate with Neron to make him equal to a king. To give him prosperity. To have him set for life. He wouldn’t care less if I was unhappy. Once

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