Ren, Cecillia, and Stella—The Gravity of Control
Ren revelled in the moment, feeling the weight of Cecillia and Stella against him, drawn to him with an undeniable force. The air between them was thick—charged with a pull beyond mere attraction, something deeper, something inevitable.
Cecillia's gaze burned with obsession, her smile sharp yet devastatingly beautiful. She kissed him with a passion that was both playful and consuming, a calculated temptation designed to test the limits of his control, daring him to match her intensity.
Stella, quieter but no less entranced, traced slow kisses down his neck, her breath warm against his skin. Her movements were deliberate—an unspoken surrender, a silent acknowledgement that she would always let him lead.
Ren, as ever, accepted what was his.
Cecillia's laughter was a whisper against his lips, teasing, knowing.
"Tell me, Ren," she murmured, her voice rich with mischief. "Can you keep up with both of us?"
Stella didn't speak, but the way she pressed closer answered for her.
Ren smiled, effortlessly knowing.
Of course, he could.
The Wolf's Captivity—A Hunt Unfinished
Ren felt the shift—a presence stirring at the edge of his awareness. His gaze cut through the palace walls, seeking the source.
Beyond the towering citadel of the Eternal Empire, bathed in the glow of artificial starlight, Damon WhiteDragon stood with his family and Lady Annabeth. Yet something else snagged Ren's attention.
The white wolf.
The very one he had encountered before.
A slow, knowing chuckle rumbled in his throat.
So… they had captured her.
She had been taken as a pet.
Amusing.
Though time stretched endlessly within the empire, this moment felt fresh enough to carry weight.
A Presentation Before the Empress
In the Empress's throne room, the gathered figures stood in anticipation, their presence filling the vast chamber with solemn grandeur. The towering palace, built over centuries beyond measure, gleamed under the artificial starlight—a monument to the Eternal Empire's enduring reign.
Damon WhiteDragon stepped forward, his movements deliberate, his gaze steady.
"Your Eternal Imperial Highness," he announced, echoing through the hall. "We have captured this magnificent beast—a pure white dire wolf, a rarity even among the reborn creatures of this age. It is a gift to you."
The air hung heavy with expectation as all eyes turned to the wolf.
In an empire where extinct beasts roamed once more through genetic mastery, animals walked the land in numbers unseen for millennia. Yet the dire wolf stood apart—not merely a recreation, but a living relic of untamed power, untouched by artificial design.
The Empress regarded the creature, her expression unreadable, yet her presence commanded absolute stillness.
The wolf did not cower.
It met her gaze, unwavering.
For a moment, time itself seemed to hold its breath.
The Wolf's Recognition—The Black Hunter
The dire wolf stood her ground, piercing eyes locked onto Empress Bai.
Yet something about this woman stirred unease deep within her—an instinct she could not place. It was not fear or submission, but recognition.
Not her.
Of something beyond her.
The black wolf.
The one she had encountered before. The one who had stolen her kill, who had challenged her in ways she had never expected—the one she had pursued tirelessly, always just out of reach.
It was because of him that she had been captured. If not for her relentless pursuit, she would never have fallen into the hands of these people. And yet, now, standing before Bai, that same presence lingered.
She didn't understand why.
But she knew one thing.
She had never lost a hunt before.
And she would not lose this one.