Solange Daye

"You can't reject them. They are royals." 
"That is not a law," I cross my arms over my chest. "As soon as they acknowledge the bond between us, I will reject them." 
Mom takes another swig of the drink in her hand. "You can't. You are special." 
"Nyx doesn't make me special," I hiss. "She makes me weird." 
'I heard that,' Nyx replies from the other side of the room. 

***
For as long as Macy can remember, Nyx has been in her mind or by her side. Unlike other werewolves, Macy was gifted at birth with an ancient wolf who has lived many lives.
It is both a blessing and a curse.
Nyx being in her life has made it difficult for her to fit in, and she has remained an outcast.
To top it off, a damning prophecy hangs over Macy's head. Either she tames her mates, the Royal Twins, or death and destruction will come to pass. There is only one problem. She hates them, and they hate her. Years of torment and being called Crazy Macy has driven a wedge between them that cannot be removed or repaired. 
Macy isn't the only one with problems. The Royal Twins are keeping secrets of their own and are trying to find a way to find others like them. Little do they know, they need Macy as much as she needs them. 
With the world at stake, the three of them will need to put their differences behind them.

The Royal Twins and the Unforgiving Princess

　　"Don't try to use the mate bond to persuade my brother," Edward threatens me. "It won't work. We don't want you." 


　　I laugh sarcastically. "Your brother is the one that invited himself into my room and into my shower. I want nothing to do with either of you, and neither does Nyx. You keep your distance, and I will keep mine."


　　He forcefully grabs my chin, and I grit my teeth together in defiance. "You know what we are?"


　　"Then you know I could kill you with a flick of my wrist," he warns me. 


　　"Do it," I dare him. "I am tired of living through this shit anyway." 


　　Something changes in his eyes. It wasn't the response he was expecting. His grip on my chin loosens, and he steps away from me. His eyes graze over my body, and I tighten the towel around my chest. The scars are there, just under the towel. I know their tips are peeking out from the top of the towel. I was not careful about their placement. I was only ten. 


CHAPTER 8 Demarcation