I came here to kill the Wolf King.
And now I’m lying beneath him, my body trembling not from fear, but from need so deep it feels like drowning.
The full moon rises tonight.
Three days after Kael marked me in front of the Council. Three days since I whispered, *I want you*, and shattered the last wall between us. Three days since I stopped fighting the truth: I don’t hate him. I never did. Not really. Not after he took that blade for me. Not after he knelt and said he was sorry. Not after he told me he loved me.
I *love* him.
And that terrifies me more than any mission, any vengeance, any death.
The bond hums between us—stronger now, deeper, hungrier—a live wire stretched taut across the fortress. It pulses in time with my heartbeat, a golden throb at the mating mark on my shoulder, a heat between my thighs that never truly fades. The full moon is rising, and with it, the final surge of bond-heat. If we don’t consummate the bond tonight, we’ll die. Our magic will turn on us. Our bodies will reject the bond. And we’ll burn from the inside out.
I know this.
He knows this.
And yet—
We’re not together.
He sent me away this morning. Said it was for my safety. Said the heat would be stronger tonight, that the wolf in him would be harder to control. Said I needed space. Time. A choice.
But I know the truth.
He’s afraid.
Not of losing control.
But of me.
Of what I’ll do when the moment comes. Whether I’ll push him away. Whether I’ll scream. Whether I’ll remember the temple, the blood, the lie he let me believe for ten years—and hate him all over again.
So he gave me a choice.
And I made it.
I’m not in my chambers.
I’m not hiding.
I’m standing outside his door, my bare feet silent on the cold stone, my breath shallow, my heart pounding. I wear nothing but the gray robes—the ones I’ve worn every day since I arrived, like armor, like a shield. But tonight, the fabric feels thin. Flimsy. Like it could tear with a single touch.
And I want it to.
I raise my hand. Knock once.
No answer.
I knock again.
Still nothing.
But I can feel him. His presence is a storm behind the door, a low thrum in my blood. The bond flares—warm, insistent, alive. I press my palm to the wood. The runes carved into the surface pulse faintly, reacting to my touch, to my magic, to *him*.
Then—
The door opens.
Kael stands there, shirtless, his chest a battlefield of scars, his gold eyes burning in the torchlight. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move. Just watches me—pale, trembling, my hand still on the doorframe.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he says, voice rough.
“I should,” I say, stepping inside. “You gave me a choice. I’m making it.”
He doesn’t close the door. Just stands there, his presence a wall of heat and power. The room is dark, the hearth cold, the bed unmade. His scent—pine, fire, raw male—fills the air, and my body responds like a starving animal to meat.
“You don’t have to do this,” he says. “Not because of the bond. Not because of the moon. Not because you think you owe me.”
“I don’t owe you anything,” I say, stepping closer. “I’m here because I *want* to be. Because I don’t want to win this war anymore. Because I don’t want to be anyone else.”
He doesn’t move. Just watches me—gold eyes burning, jaw tight, fangs just visible in the torchlight.
And then—
He closes the door.
Locks it.
And turns to me.
“Say it again,” he says, stepping closer. “Say you want me.”
“I want you,” I whisper. “Not because the bond demands it. Not because I’m afraid of dying. But because I *choose* you. Because I love you.”
He stills.
His breath catches.
And then—
He’s on me.
He grabs my waist, lifts me, and spins me, pressing me against the wall. His body is a wall of heat, his chest against mine, his hardness pressing into my hip. My breath stops. My core clenches.
“You don’t get to say that,” he growls, his fangs grazing my neck. “Not unless you mean it.”
“I mean it,” I gasp. “I came here to kill you. And now—” My breath hitches. “—I can’t imagine a world without you.”
He pulls back, his eyes searching mine. “Say it again.”
“I love you,” I say, my voice breaking. “And I’m not afraid anymore.”
He doesn’t answer.
Just kisses me.
Not gentle. Not sweet.
Violent.His mouth crashes into mine, his fangs scraping my lips, his tongue claiming me like he owns me. And I—
I kiss him back.
My hands fist in his hair, pulling him closer, my body arching into his, my core aching, needing. The bond flares—golden light erupting between us, the runes on our chests glowing, the air crackling with magic.
He tears at my robes, the fabric ripping as his hands glide over my skin. I don’t stop him. Don’t care. Let him ruin it. Let him burn it. Let him take everything.
Because I’m his.
And I want him to know it.
His hands move to my breasts, cupping them, his thumbs brushing my nipples. I gasp, my back arching, my legs trembling. The heat between my thighs is unbearable. The bond pulses—sharp, insistent—a pulse that syncs with my pulse.
“Kael—” I gasp.
“Say it,” he growls. “Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” I whisper. “Only yours. Always yours.”
He smiles—slow, dark, utterly triumphant. “Then let me in.”
He lifts me, his hands under my thighs, and carries me to the bed. He lays me down gently, then strips off his boots, his pants, his gloves. His body is a map of battles—scars from claws, burns from magic, the deep, jagged line across his shoulder blade. The runes tattooed there twist like serpents down his skin.
He climbs onto the bed, hovering over me. “This is your last chance,” he says. “Say no, and I’ll leave. Say yes—” He leans in, his breath hot against my ear. “—and I’ll make you forget your own name.”
I look up at him—gold eyes, sharp jaw, fangs just visible in the torchlight. The man who killed my mother. The monster who burned our temple. The king who took a blade for me.
And I realize—
I don’t want to win this war.
“Yes,” I whisper.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just stares at me—like I’ve given him the world.
Then he kisses me.
Not violent.
Not desperate.
Gentle.
His lips press against mine—soft, slow, claiming. His hands glide over my skin, pushing the robe aside, baring me to the heat, to the light, to him. The bond flares—golden light erupting between us, the runes on our chests glowing, the air crackling with magic.
And for the first time, I don’t fight it.
Because part of me—small, broken, awake—doesn’t want to.
Because part of me—
Wants to belong.
His mouth moves down my neck, to my collarbone, to my breasts. He takes my nipple into his mouth, sucking, licking, nipping. I cry out, my back arching, my hands fisting in the sheets. The heat between my thighs is unbearable. The bond pulses—stronger, deeper, hungrier.
“Kael—” I gasp. “Please—”
“Please what?” he murmurs, lifting his head. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want you inside me,” I whisper. “I want you to claim me. To make me yours.”
He smiles—slow, dark. “You’re already mine.”
But he doesn’t move.
Just watches me—gold eyes burning, possessive, knowing.
And then—
He moves lower.
His hands slide down my ribs, to my hips, to the apex of my thighs. He parts my folds, his fingers brushing my clit. I cry out, my back arching, my legs trembling.
“So wet,” he murmurs. “So ready. And you know what? So am I.”
He leans in, his breath hot against my core. “You don’t get to hide,” he growls. “You don’t get to run. You’re mine. And I’m going to taste you—right here, right now—whether you say it or not.”
And then—
He does.
His tongue slides through my folds, slow, deliberate, claiming. I cry out, my hands fisting in his hair, my legs trembling. He licks me—deep, slow, thorough—his tongue circling my clit, then dipping inside me. The bond flares—golden light erupting between us, the runes on my shoulder glowing, the air crackling with magic.
“Kael—” I gasp. “I’m—”
“Let go,” he murmurs, his mouth still on me. “Let me feel you come.”
And I do.
My body arches, my core clenches, and I come—hard, deep, uncontrollable. My scream echoes in the room, the bond surging, magic flaring, the runes on the floor glowing. He doesn’t stop. Just keeps licking, keeps claiming, keeps making me his.
When I finally collapse, gasping, trembling, he lifts his head, his lips glistening, his eyes burning.
“You’re beautiful when you come,” he says, voice rough. “And you’re just getting started.”
He moves up, hovering over me, his hardness pressing against my thigh. I reach for him, my fingers wrapping around his cock. He growls—low, rough—and thrusts into my hand.
“You want me?” he asks.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Now. Please.”
He doesn’t answer.
Just positions himself at my entrance, his tip brushing my folds. The bond flares—golden light erupting between us, the runes on our chests glowing, the air crackling with magic.
And then—
He pushes in.
Slow.
Deep.
Full.
I gasp, my back arching, my hands fisting in the sheets. He’s thick. Long. perfect. He fills me completely, stretching me, claiming me, making me his in the most primal way.
“You feel that?” he growls, thrusting deeper. “That’s the bond. That’s us. That’s *forever*.”
I don’t answer.
Just wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, needing more.
He starts to move—slow at first, then faster, deeper, harder. Each thrust sends shockwaves through me, each pull making me ache for more. The bond flares—golden light erupting between us, the runes on our chests glowing, the air crackling with magic.
“You’re mine,” he growls, his fangs grazing my neck. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I gasp. “Only yours. Always yours.”
He smiles—slow, dark. “And you’re never leaving me.”
“I don’t want to,” I whisper. “I don’t want to be anyone else.”
He doesn’t answer.
Just kisses me—deep, desperate, real—as he thrusts into me, harder, faster, deeper. The bond surges—stronger than ever, a flood of heat, of power, of *truth*. My magic flares—golden light erupting from my palms, my fae blood singing in my veins. The runes on the floor blaze. The hearth ignites. The windows rattle.
And then—
I come.
Hard.
Deep.
Unstoppable.
My scream echoes in the room, my body arching, my core clenching around him. He follows—growling, thrusting, filling me with his seed. The bond flares—golden light erupting between us, the runes on our chests glowing, the air crackling with magic.
And then—
Silence.
Just our breath, ragged and heavy, our bodies tangled, our hearts beating in sync.
He pulls out slowly, then rolls to his side, pulling me into his chest. His arms lock around me, his heartbeat steady against my ear. I press my palm to the mating mark on his chest. It pulses—warm, alive, claimed.
“You’re mine,” he whispers, stroking my hair. “And I’m yours. And no one—no one—takes what’s ours.”
I don’t answer.
Just lean into him, my body trembling, my breath warm against his neck.
And I let myself believe—
Maybe I don’t have to win this war.
Maybe I don’t have to destroy him.
Maybe—
Maybe I can just *belong*.
I came here to kill the Wolf King.
And now—
I think I love him.
And worse—
I don’t want to be anyone else.