

The Last Elementi
sheridan.hartin · Ongoing · 43.5k Words
Introduction
On the run through hostile wolf territory, Echo’s fire, water, earth, and wind answer only to her…and to the bond sparking between her and the infuriating king who hurt her, then unmasked her. Her blood can turn vampires into daywalkers, making her the most coveted weapon alive and every pack, coven, and clan now hunts what she is: the last elementi.
To save her best friend and choose her own future, Echo must decide whether to trust the monster fate tethered her to. If Nicholaus can learn to be more man than king, their impossible bond could shatter a curse and ignite a love fierce enough to set the night aflame.
Chapter 1
Echo
The bass doesn’t so much play as it lives in the walls, slow and relentless as a heartbeat, which is how night tells me it has begun. I wake the same way I always do: from one nightmare into the next. The lock on my cage scrapes, a metal rasp I could pick out of a storm. The door judders. This box is deliberately too small, wide enough that I can sleep if I curl around the bucket and tall enough that if I sit straight my head knocks the bars. Gold sings softly when my chain is tugged: permission to step out. The collar at my throat is thick and ostentatious, a showpiece pretending to be jewelry, welded to a heavy chain that splits to my wrists and climbs to the mask hooked behind my skull. The cuffs shimmer prettily while biting like teeth; dark magic thrums inside them, a cold, constant pressure that keeps my power muffled like a scream under ice. The mask is only metal, a gilded jaw curving over my mouth and the lower half of my nose, shaped to frame my blue eyes and my black hair so I look like a delicate thing. It isn’t delicate and it isn’t beautiful. It’s a silencer. Four years of it, pressing my jaw so tight I couldn’t speak even if I wanted to. I’ve been here more than ten. I used to count days. Now I count smaller things: how the music shifts when the crowd gets drunker, how my chain drags heavier on the left than the right, how many breaths between the tug and the first hit if I misstep. I’m the last of my kind. At least, I haven’t met another elementi since the night my world turned to smoke. I remember the false wall my parents built, the shake in my mother’s hands as she hid me, the heat blooming across the floorboards like a second sun. The wolves laughed while the thatch caught. The air went syrup-thick with burning sap. When the smoke made our hiding place a furnace, I ran. Alpha Julian’s men found me soot-streaked and stupid with grief. He said I was pretty. Useful later. He spared me the way a cat spares a mouse when it’s still playing. He kept his promise. When I turned sixteen and the power in my blood woke, the first breath of winter across a lake, I was wildfire for a heartbeat. I took his club roof to floor and almost got free. Almost. After that: chains. After that: a cage.
“Breakfast.” A guard shoves a paper cup through the bars. The straw is bent where his thumb crushed it. There’s a tiny hole punched in the mask at my mouth for this; two at my nose so I don’t suffocate. The blend tastes like lukewarm oatmeal and metal. I don’t remember how it feels to chew.
The chain tugs again. I follow, collar rasping over a healing welt. Down the corridor, past the cracked mirror that reflects only my eyes and a slash of gold, into the yard where the other girls wait against the wall. Someone tears away my ragged dress. Velcro, so they never unhook my chains and the hose hits. Pressure. Shock. A stinging sheet that pins me to the concrete. It sluices away stale perfume and smoke and the last of last night’s blood where I bit my tongue when the pole caught my jaw. Farah stands three girls down, pale and slim, hair wet and dark against her shoulders. The wolves call her omega because it pleases them to. She’s vampire. They keep her weak with drops, never a full feed. She catches my eye and lifts her hands.
Are you okay? she signs, quick and compact.
Her mother was deaf; Farah learned young. When she arrived three years ago, she taught me in the dark behind the stage while the music pounded and the guards thought we were fixing our hair. The mask squeezes my jaw so tight I couldn’t speak even if I wanted to. Signing lets us be loud without making a sound.
I’m okay. A little sore. At least Shithead didn’t feed me today.
The smallest twitch at the corner of her mouth. She knows which guard I mean. He took last night’s mistake like a gift from the moon: my chain catching on the center pole, the stutter of metal, the lurch as it wrapped, balance gone. The clang of my skull against the bars. The wolves’ laughter. The drag to the dressing room and the quiet after.
“Dressing room, now!” a guard bellows. The chain tugs in a rhythm that expects obedience. I swipe my torn dress from the floor, more habit than dignity, and fall into line beside Farah. Under the red neon sign, the backstage heat swallows us. I hang the dress on a wire hanger and watch water drip from it to the concrete. A different guard, newer, or simply less cruel, holds up two outfits to choose from. That’s their game: gift the illusion of choice. I point to the black corset and tiny shorts. He nods. Farah laces me tight, careful around the places that bruise easy. I twist my hair into a high knot. The mask freezes my expression; eyeliner makes my eyes sharp, a weapon I’m still allowed to carry.
“Five minutes, ladies!” someone shouts from the door.
Wouldn’t want to keep the filthy dogs waiting, would we? I sign, lazy with it. Farah bites back a laugh that would get us in trouble.
The club is all heat and spill: sweat and liquor and wolf musk, leather and cheap citrus cleaner. Fairy lights scallop the edges of the room, and the main stage glitters with a heavy, oversized cage like a promise. I don’t need directions. There is only one place for me. Center stage. Golden bars. A latch that clicks extra loud when it closes. My chain locks to the base of the pole. Test the give, test the swing. The door slams. The key travels to a pocket I can map in my sleep.
You’d think they were scared of you, Farah signs from her pole across the floor, lips barely moving. The beat swallows any sound. I snort. The mask swallows that, too. The show is a song I have danced a hundred ways. Wolves circle, drunk on the bass and their own power. I move precisely: steps that won’t snag the chain, wrists angled so the cuffs don’t tear the tender skin. The trick is to make it look like I’m offering something while I measure the room. Counting guards. Noting exits. Cataloging who watches me like I might bite, because once, I did. The music drags me with it and for a breath I pretend my power isn’t a lake locked under winter, that if I inhale deep enough I can crack it. The cuffs hum colder. The ice holds.
Last Chapters
#39 Could I Belong?
Last Updated: 9/19/2025#38 I Want To Do This, For Her.
Last Updated: 9/19/2025#37 Not Prince Charming, But Close.
Last Updated: 9/19/2025#36 The Heat Of A Look.
Last Updated: 9/19/2025#35 The Fates Are Testing Me
Last Updated: 9/19/2025#34 Little Flame.
Last Updated: 9/19/2025#33 Caring.
Last Updated: 9/19/2025#32 The Humm Of The Bond.
Last Updated: 9/19/2025#31 Setting Sail.
Last Updated: 9/19/2025#30 House-Broken
Last Updated: 9/19/2025
You Might Like 😍
Hucow: Naughty Nectar Farms
Hey, my name's Alice, and my boyfriend's name is... Yeah, no, we're not doing that song and dance. Naw. Once upon a time, I was just another girl hoping for a simple life after high school. Now, I'm ensnared in the grotesque reality of Naughty Nectar Farms (NNF), not a farm but a prison where shadows don’t just whisper—they scream with the horrors of the night.
My stepfather, blinded by greed, sold my freedom and my innocence to this nightmare. Here, I am nothing more than livestock, subjected to the twisted whims of those who see women as commodities to be bred, milked, and broken. But while they may have trapped my body, they can't imprison my will.
Each day, I hear the hushed, sinister talks of breeding and milking disguised as agricultural innovation. I see the cruel fate of my fellow captives, poked, prodded, and dehumanized. Yet in this lab of horrors, where humanity is stripped away, I hold onto one truth—they think I am weak, demure, broken. They are mistaken.
I am guilty of many things, but submission is not one of them. Here in the depths of despair, my fury simmers. I am plotting, waiting. For though they have taken much, my resolve grows with each passing day. I will lead us out of this darkness, or die trying. This is no ordinary farm, and I am no ordinary woman.
“Burn those who burned me!”
Burn those who burned me is an anthology book circulated on truth; justice; and REVENGE!
Story #1 The Ballad of Rabena Price.
Story #2 The rebirth of Clara Granger
Story #3 The violin of Graceland Teague
Story #4 The list for Josie Taylor
Story #5 COMING SOON!
The Mafia's Sugar Queen
Struggling to save her ailing mother and escape crushing financial ruin, Hannah enters a high-stakes arrangement that promises to solve her problems—but at what cost? Leonardo, a man with shadows darker than night and power beyond imagination, offers her everything she needs. Luxury. Security. Protection.
But in the treacherous landscape of wealth and power, nothing is as simple as it seems.
As Hannah navigates a complex web of sugar dating, corporate warfare, and unexpected emotions, she discovers that some bargains come with strings that can either save you or destroy you completely.
When lines between transaction and passion blur, and enemies circle like sharks, Hannah must decide: Is survival worth the price of her soul?
Healing His Broken Luna....
Off Limits, Brother's Best Friend
“You are going to take every inch of me.” He whispered as he thrusted up.
“Fuck, you feel so fucking good. Is this what you wanted, my dick inside you?” He asked, knowing I have benticing him since the beginning.
“Y..yes,” I breathed.
Brianna Fletcher had been running from dangerous men all her life but when she got an opportunity to stay with his elder brother after graduation, there she met the most dangerous of them all. Her brother's best friend, a mafia Don. He radiated danger but she couldn't stay away.
He knows his best friend's little sister is off limits and yet, he couldn't stop thinking of her.
Will they be able to break all rules and find closure in each other's arms?
Rejected Protector
Threads of Desire
"You're soaked," he said, voice like gravel. I arched into him, helpless. The city watched through the glass, but I didn't care. Not when his mouth met my body and he devoured me like a man starved. "Jordan," I gasped, my fingers tangled in his thick hair, hips arching instinctively toward his warm mouth. "Louder," he commanded.
In the glittering chaos of Manhattan’s elite, Sophia Bennett reigns—untouchable, composed, and ruthlessly ambitious. As the visionary behind one of New York’s fastest-rising fashion empires, she doesn’t just walk the runway—she owns the spotlight. But when she caught her long-time boyfriend between another woman’s legs, she didn’t scream. She smiled.
And when she walked out, she left him behind—along with his investments, his influence, and every ounce of support her company once relied on. But she promises she won't lose this game.
Then Jordan Pierce walks in. Billionaire. Charming producer. Untamed. All sharp edges and sinful promises. He steps into her world wearing a silk tie and a crooked smile. “Let’s talk about your fashion career,” he says.“I want in on your vision—and maybe on you, too.” Their chemistry? Volatile.Their ambition? Lethal.
In a city where power is the ultimate currency, falling for the wrong man could cost Sophia everything she’s fought to build.
Now, with her world on the edge, Sophia must ask herself: Will she risk everything for the man who might ruin her again, or destroy love before it destroys her?
The Song in the Alpha's Heart
Alora, has been hated by her family since birth. Her Families favorite pastime is torturing her.
After turning eighteen she's rejected by her mate, who turns out to be her older sisters boyfriend.
Breaking the chains that bound her powers, Alora is freed from the family that hates her, and is given a new family.
When an old friend and protecter of her's returns home to tak his place as next Alpha of Alpha's, Alora's life is once more changed for the better as he says the fated word. "Mate."
Heartsong
I looked strong, and my wolf was absolutely gorgeous.
I looked to where my sister is sitting and her and the rest of her posse have jealous fury on their faces. I then look up to where my parents are and they're glaring at my picture, if looks alone could set shit on fire.
I smirk at them then I turn away to face my opponent, everything else falling away but what was here on this platform. I take my skirt and cardigan off. Standing in just my tank and capris, I move into a fighting position and wait for the signal to start -- To fight, to prove, and not hide myself anymore.
This was going to be fun. I thought, a grin on my face.
This book ”Heartsong” contains two books “Werewolf’s Heartsong” and “Witch’s Heartsong”
Mature Audience Only: Contains mature luangege, sex, abuse and violence
The Wrong Alpha - A Twist of Fate?
Balance of Light and Shadow
Little did she know how much both worlds need her to bring peace and true freedom.
Mermaid Thighs
Forty-three year old Helen is newly divorced and trying to find herself. For the first time in her life, she is not under the control of a man. With an absentee father, an abusive step-brother and a manipulative ex-husband, she's had the perfect trifecta of bad men.
Along with learning to live life on her own, she's trying to help her three children. Jaxon is struggling with his sexuality. Jolene is discovering that her perfect marriage is far from perfect. JD is just trying to get through high school and into the Navy.
Fifty-two year old Owen Reese returned to his hometown after twenty years in the Navy. He started a small business that has made him a millionaire over the past decade. With his own daughter grown and living a life of her own, he thought his days of parenting were behind him. But he is now raising his sixteen year old niece while his sister is deployed with Doctors Without Borders.
And now, the cute, plump receptionist from his accountant's office is everywhere he turns. Not that he's complaining; he's dying to get his hands on those lovely, lush mermaid thighs that haunt his dreams.
Nothing seems to go right for them. All of his many sisters are constantly interfering. Her children worry about her so much that they are almost obsessive. And she just wants to be happy. And skinnier.
Warning: include an abusive relationship