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... cked by the display before him. Uncle Kho was shouting at Master Feng. He had never so much as heard Uncle Kho raise his voice, let alone descend into full-throated shouting. Yet, there it was. The kindly old cultivator who patiently taught Sen to read, who had guided Sen after his disastrous first attempts at writing, who had shown him the essentials of cooking… that man was just gone. This Uncle Kho looked the way that Sen had always imagined powerful cultivators would look. Qi was radiating o ...

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Gazing at the Starbucks café at the airports had become a ritual for her. A desperate attempt as she hoped against hope to see him again, probably get one more chance to kiss him again.

Looking at the store all lost, she walked ahead, but stumbled and bumped against someone.

The cup of coffee that he had in his hand spilled all over just like the first time when she had met him.

“Jesus Christ”, he muttered.

The moment she heard the voice she looked up and saw his face. It was the same face that had promised to stay next to her, till death did them apart.

Tears flooded her eyes and she could barely speak, “I knew you would come back for me Raymond”. She raised herself on her toes in an attempt to kiss him, but he blocked her lips with his palm.

“Whoa, whoa, Miss !!! I guess you have mistaken me for someone else.”

“What are you saying, Raymond? It's me, your Akira. The love of your life, your fiancée,” she said and stretched her hand showing the ring on her finger.

He stared at the ring for quite some time and then looked at her face apologetically and said,

“Miss please, I am already a married man.”

And then he silently walked away.

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*****

He stalked towards her, chin low so the shadow cast by his hard jaw cut across the thick fur collar of his vest. His hair had fallen over his eyes in the scuffle, so he peered at her through it like a lion in the grass. With each step, his graceful, rolling gait reminded her of a predator stalking its prey. Despite the forest floor littered in twigs and leaves, he didn’t make a sound.

“Wh-who are you?” Elia stammered, backing away, her hands up. He met her step for step until she came up hard against the tree behind her—and didn’t stop until he loomed over her, so broad his shoulders and chest made a wall in front of her. She could feel the heat rising off his skin in the cool, night air.

“I am the Leonine King.” His voice was a dark, husky gravel. Behind him a chorus of wheezes, howls, and chirps of agreement rose from the people watching. “And you are?”

“Elia,” she breathed.

“Elia,” he growled, leaning in closer, bringing with him the scent of pine and rain and the musk of something distinctly male. “I am Reth.” He said the name with a strange, guttural roll in his throat. “I am King of Beasts. I am Clan Leader, and I am Alpha of WildWood.” Several snarls rose from the crowds behind him then, but he ignored them.

Elia swallowed as he leaned in until the scruff on his jaw rasped her cheek. “I am the King,” he said, “And you will be my mate.”

The forest behind him erupted.