The morning of the public claiming began with silence.
Not the silence of fear. Not the hollow quiet that follows betrayal or loss. But the deep, expectant hush of something sacred about to unfold—like the world holding its breath before a vow, before a storm, before a birth.
I stood at the edge of the Heart Grove, barefoot on the moss-covered stone, the first light of dawn spilling through the ancient blackthorn canopy above. My fingers traced the sigil on my thigh—the one Kaelen had etched into my skin during our coronation, now pulsing with a warmth that matched the life growing inside me. The bite mark below my ear throbbed faintly, a constant reminder of what I was. What I had chosen. What I had become.
Queen. Mate. Mother.
And today, they would see it all.
The pack had gathered before sunrise—warriors in their leathers, omegas in simple robes, sentinels standing at attention along the perimeter. No banners. No torches. No drums. Just presence. Just witness. They didn’t speak. Didn’t shift. Just stood in a wide circle around the central stone, their eyes sharp, their breaths shallow. Even the young ones were quiet, their fangs retracted, their claws sheathed, as if they understood this was not a celebration. This was a consecration.
Riven stood at the edge of the grove, his dark eyes scanning the tree line, his dagger at his hip. He didn’t look at me. Didn’t nod. But when I caught his gaze, he gave the slightest dip of his chin—acknowledgment. Respect. And something else.
Pride.
Lyra stood near the eastern arch, her silver hair braided with moonstone beads, her violet eyes reflecting the pale light. She smiled when she saw me, not with mischief, not with challenge, but with something softer.
Belonging.
And then—
He came.
Kaelen stepped from the shadows between two sentinel posts, his boots silent on the stone, his coat of storm-gray silk open at the throat, revealing the old scar that ran from collarbone to sternum. No crown. No ceremonial armor. Just power. Just truth. Just him.
His gold eyes found mine instantly.
Not with hunger. Not with dominance.
With recognition.
He didn’t speak. Didn’t bow. Just walked to me, his steps sure, his presence filling the space between us like a vow. When he reached me, he didn’t take my hand. Didn’t pull me close. Just looked at me—really looked at me—like he was memorizing the shape of my face, the color of my eyes, the way my breath caught when he stepped too near.
“You’re trembling,” he murmured, his voice low, rough.
“So are you,” I whispered.
He didn’t deny it. Just reached for my hand, his fingers lacing with mine, his thumb brushing the pulse at my wrist. The bond flared—warm, steady, a current of fire and storm that needed no words. I could feel it—his love, his fear, his truth. And I gave it back. My fire, my fury, my surrender—pouring into him like a river.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not here. Not now. Not in front of them.”
“I do,” I said, stepping closer, my body pressing into his. “Not because the Council demands it. Not because the pack needs proof. But because I need to say it. Out loud. In daylight. So the world knows—so she knows—that I am yours. Not by magic. Not by curse. But by choice.”
His breath caught.
Not from pride. Not from power.
From something deeper.
Worth.
He didn’t answer. Just leaned in—and kissed me.
Slow. Deep. A vow sealed in breath and heat. His lips met mine, hot and demanding, his tongue sliding against my lower lip, forcing it open. I moaned—soft, broken—my body arching into his, my fingers clutching his shoulders. The bond flared, not with need, not with desperation, but with truth. The pack didn’t cheer. Didn’t shift. Just watched, their breaths held, their hearts pounding in time with ours.
When we broke apart, our foreheads pressed together, our breaths ragged, Riven stepped forward.
“The ritual requires daylight,” he said, his voice clear, steady. “The claiming must be witnessed. The mark must be seen.”
Kaelen didn’t look at him. Just kept his eyes on me. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” I said.
He nodded.
And then—
We stepped onto the central stone.
The runes flared—garnet and silver, fire and moon, blood and bone—as our feet touched the surface. The air thickened with magic, not the cold, controlled power of the Council, but something wilder. Fiercer. Alive. The sigil on my thigh pulsed in time with the bond, a steady, rhythmic thrum beneath my skin. The life inside me stirred—soft, warm, a spark in the dark—and I placed my hand over my stomach, feeling her. Knowing her.
Kaelen turned to the pack, his voice deep, resonant, unshakable.
“I stand before you not as your Alpha,” he said. “Not as your king. But as a man who has spent his life hiding from love. From truth. From himself. And then she came—fire in silk, fury in flesh, a woman who looked at me and didn’t see a monster.”
He turned to me, his gold eyes burning.
“You saw me. Not the curse. Not the blood. Not the lies. You saw the man beneath the mask. And you didn’t flinch. You didn’t run. You fought. You chose. You loved.”
My breath caught.
Not from shock. Not from doubt.
From recognition.
Because he already knew.
And gods, I loved him for it.
“And so,” he said, stepping closer, his hand rising to my face, “I claim you. Not as my subject. Not as my possession. But as my equal. My queen. My mate. My love. And I do it in daylight. In front of my pack. In front of the world. So that no lie can ever break what we’ve built.”
The bond flared—hot, bright, all-consuming.
And then—
He kissed me again.
Not slow. Not tender.
Claiming.
His mouth crashed into mine, hot and demanding, his tongue sliding against my lips, forcing them open. I gasped—soft, broken—as his hands slid down my back, over the curve of my hips, beneath the hem of the simple dress I wore. His palms were warm against the bare skin of my ass, his fingers spreading, pulling me against him. I could feel him—hard, thick, pressing against my thigh—and gods, it made me ache.
But he didn’t rush.
Didn’t take.
Just held.
And then—
He pulled back.
Looked into my eyes.
“Tell me,” he said, his voice rough. “Tell me if this is what you want. Not because the bond demands it. Not because the curse is gone. But because you want it.”
I didn’t hesitate.
Just reached for him—my hands on his chest, my fingers spreading over the old scar, my nails lightly scraping. “I want you,” I said, my voice breaking. “Not because of magic. Not because of blood. But because I love you. Because you saw me. Not as a weapon. Not as a pawn. Not as a cursed hybrid. As me. And maybe—just maybe—that’s enough.”
He didn’t smile.
Just kissed me again—slow, deep, a vow sealed in breath and heat. And then his hands moved—down my back, over my hips, beneath the hem of my dress, pulling it up, one slow inch at a time. I lifted my hips, helping him, my breath catching as the cool air hit my skin. And then—
He was naked.
Me.
Us.
And the world fell away.
He didn’t rush. Didn’t claim. Just touched.
His hands traced the curve of my waist, the dip of my spine, the swell of my hips. His fingers brushed the inside of my thigh, then higher—slow, deliberate—until he found me. Wet. Aching. Ready.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice rough. “Not just your body. Not just your power. You. All of you.”
I didn’t answer.
Just arched into his touch, my breath catching as his thumb circled my clit, slow and steady, building the fire one spark at a time. My magic hummed beneath my skin, not with denial, not with resistance, but with truth. I could feel it—his love, his need, his surrender. And I gave it back. My relief, my shame, my love—pouring into him like a river.
And then—
He kissed me again.
And his fingers slid inside me.
Two. Then three. Slow. Deep. Curling just right. I moaned—deep, broken—my body arching off the stone, my hands clutching his shoulders. He didn’t stop. Just kept moving—his fingers, his thumb, his mouth—until I was trembling, until I was begging, until I was on the edge.
“Kaelen,” I gasped. “Please—”
“Not yet,” he murmured, his lips against my neck. “I want to feel you come on my hand. I want to taste you. I want to know you.”
And then—
He lowered his head.
His mouth found me—hot, wet, relentless. His tongue circled my clit, then flicked, then pressed. His fingers kept moving—slow, deep, relentless. I screamed—raw, broken—my body arching off the stone, my fingers clutching his hair, my magic flaring, lightning crackling at my fingertips.
And then—
I came.
Not with fire. Not with storm.
But with peace.
It washed over me—slow, deep, all-consuming. My body trembled. My breath caught. My vision whited out. And when I came back, he was still there—kissing me, touching me, holding me—his eyes burning into mine.
“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice rough. “Not because of magic. Not because of blood. Because you chose to be.”
“I did,” I whispered, my hands rising to his face, my fingers tracing his jaw. “And you’re mine. And I’ll choose you. Every time.”
He didn’t smile.
Just kissed me again—slow, deep, a vow sealed in breath and heat. And then he moved—over me, between my legs, his body a wall of storm and iron. I reached for him—my hands on his chest, my fingers spreading over the old scar, my nails lightly scraping.
“Tell me,” I said, my voice breaking. “Tell me if you want this. Not because the bond demands it. Not because the curse is gone. But because you want it.”
He didn’t hesitate.
Just looked at me—really looked at me—and said, “I’ve wanted you since the moment you walked into the Moonfire Hall. Not because of the bond. Not because of the curse. But because you’re worthy. Because you’re strong. Because you’re mine.”
And then—
He entered me.
Slow. Deep. All the way.
I gasped—soft, broken—my body arching into his, my fingers clutching his shoulders. He didn’t move. Just held me—deep inside, his forehead pressed to mine, his breath warm against my skin. And then—
He started to move.
Slow. Deep. Relentless.
Each thrust was a vow. Each breath a promise. Each touch a claim. Not of ownership. Not of dominance. But of love.
And when I came again—harder, deeper, brighter—he was right there with me, his body arching, his roar echoing through the grove, his seed spilling inside me, hot and thick.
The bond flared—not with need, not with desperation, but with truth.
We didn’t speak.
Didn’t move.
Just held each other—breathing, trembling, alive.
And then—
He pulled out, rolled to his side, and pulled me into his arms, holding me like I was something fragile, something precious. I didn’t fight. Didn’t pull away. Just buried my face in his neck, my breath warm against his skin.
And then—
He bit me.
Not on the neck. Not in passion.
On the shoulder—slow, deliberate, deep—his fangs piercing the skin, his mouth sealing over the wound, his tongue lapping at the blood as it welled. The pain was sharp, bright, but it flared into pleasure—hot, electric, all-consuming. The bond screamed—fire and storm, blood and bone, life and power—racing through my veins, sealing the claim, sealing the vow, sealing the future.
The pack roared.
Not in anger. Not in defiance.
In approval.
The runes on the stone cracked. The sky above split with lightning. The wind howled through the trees like a chorus of wolves.
And then—
It was over.
The bite sealed. The mark glowed—garnet-red, pulsing with magic. The bond hummed—warm, steady, unbreakable.
Kaelen lifted his head, his lips stained with my blood, his gold eyes burning into mine.
“You’re mine,” he growled.
“And you’re mine,” I whispered, reaching up to touch the fresh mark on his shoulder—the one I’d left during our coronation, now glowing in answer.
He didn’t smile.
Just kissed me—slow, deep, a vow sealed in breath and heat.
The pack didn’t disperse.
They stayed.
And then—
One by one.
They knelt.
Not to me.
Not to the Alpha.
But to us.
The warriors. The sentinels. The omegas. Even the young ones. They bowed their heads, their hands over their hearts, their voices rising in a single, unified chant.
“Queen. King. Queen. King.”
Tears burned my eyes.
Not from pride.
Not from power.
But from something deeper.
Belonging.
I looked at Kaelen.
And for the first time, I didn’t see a threat.
I saw a future.
And I knew—
We weren’t just mates.
We were partners.
And no lie could ever break that.
Later, as we stood on the balcony of our chamber, the moon high above, the fortress quiet below, I placed my hand on my stomach, the life inside me pulsing like a second heartbeat. Kaelen pulled me into his arms, his body warm against mine, his scent—storm and iron—wrapping around me like a vow.
“She’ll come again,” he said.
“Let her,” I said. “We’ve already won.”
“How?”
“Because we chose each other,” I said. “Not because of magic. Not because of blood. But because we love each other. And that’s something she can’t control. Can’t curse. Can’t break.”
He didn’t answer.
Just leaned in—and kissed me.
Slow. Deep. A vow sealed in breath and heat.
The bond flared, not with need, but with something deeper.
Peace.
Finally.
And for the first time since I’d become who I was meant to be, I let myself believe it.
That I wasn’t just surviving.
I was alive.
And I would fight—
For him.
For us.
For every breath, every touch, every claim.
Because the curse wasn’t just in my blood.
It was in my heart.
And the only way to break it was to stop running.
To stop fighting.
To stop pretending I didn’t want him.
Because I did.
Not just to survive.
Not just to break the curse.
But because he saw me. Not as a weapon. Not as a pawn. Not as a cursed hybrid.
As me.
And maybe—just maybe—that was enough.