Shadows of the pack novel Chapter 78

Isolde sat on the edge of her bed, lost in thought. The memories that had been stirred by Alaric's words played like vivid images in her mind. Her fingers drummed lightly on the bedspread as her thoughts swirled, emotions churning beneath the surface.
After a while, she stood up. Crossing the room, she reached for a small wooden box tucked away in the corner. The box seemed to hold secrets and stories long forgotten, yet etched into every fiber of her being. With careful fingers, she unlatched the box and lifted its lid.
Inside, nestled on a cushion of faded velvet, lay a delicate necklace. It was a fine chain of silver, adorned with a pendant in the shape of a crescent moon. The silver had darkened over the years, but the pendant still glinted as though carrying a piece of the moon's light itself.
Isolde gingerly picked up the necklace, feeling its cool weight against her palm. She held it up, the pendant catching the faint light filtering in through the window.
As she stared at the necklace, the past surged forward in her mind, a tide of memories crashing against her emotions. Laughter and whispered promises, shared secrets under the starry night sky, and stolen moments that now seemed like fragile dreams. And then, there were the painful memories too—the misunderstandings, the hurtful words, the shattered trust.
Isolde closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to steady herself. The pendant felt cool against her skin. With shaking hands she placed the necklace around her neck, Isolde looked at herself in the mirror and closed her eyes.
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Isolde's reflection in the mirror displayed a radiant smile that spread across her face as she admired the delicate necklace adorning her neck. The glimmering pendant dangled elegantly. Her joy was palpable, and she could feel Malachi's presence behind her, his gaze fixed on her through the mirror.
"You look stunning," he murmured, his voice low and rich with admiration. The sincerity in his words resonated, making her heart skip a beat. His charm was undeniable, and Isolde's cheeks flushed as she met his intense gaze.
Her lips curved into a playful grin as she replied, "You're just saying that because you're the one who gave it to me." Her tone held a teasing edge, a hint of a challenge in her eyes.
Malachi pushed himself off the bed with fluid grace, his predatory movements calculated and captivating. He closed the distance between them, his aura enveloping her like a potent spell. Isolde's breath hitched as he reached out, his fingers grazing the soft strands of her hair, tucking them behind her ear.
Leaning in, Malachi's lips brushed against the curve of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. "It looks exquisite on you," he repeated, his voice a sultry whisper against her skin. Isolde's eyes fluttered shut momentarily, lost in the sensation of his touch.
As he continued to caress her, his fingers traced a slow, tantalizing path down her arm, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Isolde's breaths became shallower, her heart racing as his touch ignited a storm of emotions within her.
But then, as if drawing her back to reality, his voice danced into her ear, carrying a question that seemed to hold weight. "Have you thought about it?" Malachi's words were gentle, yet they were laced with an intensity that demanded her attention.
Isolde's pulse quickened as she pulled away slightly, her eyes meeting his. The spell was momentarily broken, and her mind raced to understand the question he posed. "Thought about what?" she inquired softly, her fingers nervously playing with the pendant around her neck.
A fleeting smile crossed Malachi's lips, and his fingers lifted to tilt her chin upward, ensuring their gazes remained locked. "The future," he replied, his voice now softer, almost introspective. "The power we could wield together, the changes we could bring."
Isolde's brows furrowed, a hint of doubt creeping into her expression. "Malachi, I've always admired your ambition, but…"
He cut her off gently, his thumb brushing against her lower lip. "Listen, Isolde," he implored, his voice a mixture of earnestness and passion. "The Order has the potential to be so much more. We could reshape the realm, make every creature fear us, respect us. I can lead it better, mold it into a force that commands respect."
She stepped back, breaking their intimate proximity. A mixture of emotions played across her features: desire, concern, and a flicker of uncertainty. "Malachi, I can't just throw my support behind something like that without careful consideration," she said, her voice carrying a trace of caution.
Malachi's gaze remained fixed on her, unyielding in its intensity. "Isolde, I know change can be intimidating, but together, we could achieve greatness. The witches hold immense power, and with their backing, my vision could become a reality. All I need is your persuasion, your support."
Her breath caught as she stared into his eyes, the weight of his words sinking in. "But at what cost, Malachi? Power can corrupt even the noblest intentions. We have to be cautious about the path we choose."
A determined glint appeared in Malachi's eyes, his voice unwavering as he pressed on, "I understand the risks, Isolde. But I truly believe that we can use that power for good. We can protect the realm, maintain balance, ensure that the innocent are shielded."
He took a step closer, his gaze unwavering. "I will give you the time to think but you know you cannot take long. The time for selecting a new leader draws closer by the minute. I already have my wolves and you know wolves and witches have always been greater when they stand together."
He looked into her eyes, conveying a message, "Just like you and I."
His lips came down against her neck again. He bit down and she let out a painful moan. Slowly he traced his tongue along the bite.
"You want to make me happy right? Sme hummed a reply and he smiled, "Good. Now turn around and let me make you happy."
She did as she was told. Her body shook with every movement of his hands and mouth. His fingers found their way into her hair and pulled back hard. She screamed in pleasure as he bit down on her earlobe. He continued to kiss down her neck and chest. He reached her breast and began sucking on it. She arched her back and whimpered softly.
He looked up at her and smiled before taking the nipple into his mouth. He sucked on it gently while his hand squeezed the other one. She cried out and he laughed. "Does that feel good?" he asked. She nodded. Now tell me what you want." She whispered. "I want you to make love to me."
He smiled and then stood up. She watched him walk over to the bed and lay down. She crawled over to him and straddled his waist.
She slowly lowered herself onto his cock. He groaned and grabbed her hips. She began to move up and down on him. He moaned and bit her neck. She threw her head back and closed her eyesShe felt his hands tighten on her hips. She began to ride faster and harder.
His cock filled her completely and she cried out in ecstasy. He thrust his hips up into hers and she cried out. She rode him faster and harder until she felt him tense up. He groaned loudly and she felt his cum fill her.
 She collapsed onto his chest and kissed his neck. "That was wonderful." He said. "Yes it was.
She adjusted herself looking straight into Malachi's eyes, "You have the support of my witches."
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Isolde's eyes glistened with unshed tears as she wiped away the moisture with the back of her hand. The tumultuous emotions that Malachi stirred within her were unparalleled, a tempestuous fire that had raged within her for a millennium. Others may have come and gone in her long life, but none had left a mark quite like Malachi.
The members of The Order, an ancient and immortal group, had been tasked with preserving the realm's equilibrium. For some, the gift of eternal life was seen as a blessing, a chance to witness the world's evolution through the ages. But for others like Isolde, it was more a burden, an endless cycle of watching and guarding, yearning and losing.
Her  heart was heavy with the weight of her responsibilities, especially the choice she had made to support Malachi.
The memory of that decision weighed heavily on her conscience. It had been an act driven by raw emotion, her heart overriding her mind's cautionary whispers.
Sighing deeply, Isolde gazed down at the ancient spell book spread open before her. The pages were a repository of centuries-old knowledge.
The celestial eclipse spell beckoned from the pages, its intricate symbols etched in faded ink.
She knew after all these years, she was still putting her feelings first and she was about to make the second biggest mistake of her life but instead of closing the book, she closed her eyes and began to chant.