With her task done, Proserpina gently tugged off of her gloves and half-turned away from him, the shadows already growing to take her home… but Alastor suddenly held his hand out, his fingers very nearly touching the shadow as he stood up, as if intending to follow her.

At that, Proserpina wordlessly commanded the shadows to disperse all at once before it stole his. She glared at the stormy skies, her gaze tired and accusing because she was so certain that somewhere out there in the clouds, way up high in Mount Olympus... there was a certain goddess of love laughing while watching Proserpina's current dilemma.

Then again, it could be Eros for all she knew…

"Are you deaf or are you dense?" Proserpina snapped, not bothering to look behind her, "I am not interested."

"Is this because I'm a werewolf?"

–Excerpt from Chapter IV: Touch Me Not

Descent is created by Ataraxia, an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.

DescenT

Had Alistair not returned, Alastor would have been physically dragged by Sean (or worse, summoned by the Elders–) to return to the North as soon as possible with his mate or not.


Even though he would have very much preferred to return home with his mate by his side... thankfully, it didn't have to come to that because his twin–the rightful alpha of the Northern pack was now right there–and according to snippets of Harry's screeching in the background, Alistair was alright aside from a few 'helluva healing scrapes and bruises that should heal ASAP.'


But more importantly, Alistair Nyx was the one calling the shots again... as it should have been all these years ago.


Which means Alastor can peacefully go back in his comfort zone, back to being the next-in-line again... and hopefully the third or fourth once his brother finds his mate and quickly have a lot of nieces and nephews he can spoil–hahahahah, oh yes! Sign him up for that.


Chapter 30: The Bitter and the Sweet