I came here to kill the Wolf King.
And now I’m waking in his arms, my body still humming from the fire he lit inside me last night.
The memory of his mouth on my neck, his hands on my skin, the slow, deliberate way he claimed me—fully, completely, with a tenderness that shattered every wall I’d built—burns like a brand. The bond-heat is gone, sated, the fever broken not by denial, but by surrender. Not of my body. Not of my mission. But of the lie I’ve been telling myself: that I don’t love him.
I do.
And that terrifies me more than any blade, any betrayal, any death.
Sunlight slices through the shutters, painting gold lines across the stone floor. The hearth is warm, the fortress quiet. Kael lies beside me, one arm draped over my waist, his breath steady against my neck. His scent—pine, fire, raw male—clings to my skin, to my hair, to my soul. I should pull away. Should roll from the bed, dress, plan, remember who I am.
But I don’t.
For one heartbeat. One breath. One fragile, stolen moment—I let myself feel it.
The warmth of his body. The strength of his arm. The way his heartbeat matches mine, slow and sure, like we’ve always belonged like this.
Then I remember.
My mother’s body at his feet. Her silver circlet in his hand. The temple burning to ash.
I press two fingers to the mating mark on my shoulder. It pulses faintly—golden, warm, claimed. Not just by the bond. Not just by last night. But by the truth: I am his. And he is mine. And I don’t want to be anyone else.
I came here to destroy him.
And instead, I let him break me.
And then—
I let him put me back together.
I slip from the bed, careful not to wake him. My bare feet meet cold stone. The torn robes from the public claim lie crumpled in the corner—midnight blue silk, split from hem to hip. I avoid them. Instead, I pull on the gray robes from the chest—simple, heavy, marked with werewolf sigils. Armor. A shield. A lie.
Kael stirs. “Morgana.”
“Don’t,” I say, voice low. “Don’t pretend last night meant something.”
He sits up slowly, the sheets pooling around his waist, his chest bare, his scars a map of battles I don’t know. His gold eyes lock onto mine—burning, possessive, knowing. “It meant everything.”
“It meant survival,” I snap. “I didn’t want to go mad. I didn’t want to die.”
“And yet,” he says, stepping out of the bed, “you didn’t say no. You said *yes*. You *wanted* it.”
“I wanted the fever to stop.”
“Same thing,” he says, moving closer. “Because the fever is the bond. And the bond is *us*.”
He reaches out, his thumb brushing the edge of my robe where it slips off my shoulder. “You’re mine. And you always will be.”
“I’ll never be yours,” I whisper.
“You already are,” he says. “Your body knows it. Your magic knows it. And soon—” His hand rises, his fingers tracing the mark on my shoulder. “—your heart will know it too.”
I step back. “I came here to kill you.”
“And yet,” he says, “you’re still alive. Still breathing. Still here.”
He turns toward the hearth. “Get dressed. The Council convenes at noon. And you’ll be at my side.”
He leaves.
I stand there, trembling. Not from fear. From rage. From the unbearable, humiliating truth: I’m losing control. Not just of the mission. Not just of my body. Of me.
The Great Hall is already filling when we arrive—Alphas, Betas, envoys from the vampire and fae courts. The air is thick with tension, with the low hum of whispered alliances. At the dais, the High Elder stands beside the treaty scrolls, his staff raised. Kael takes his place at the center. I stand beside him, close enough that our arms brush, far enough that I don’t have to look at him.
But I feel him.
His heat. His scent. The bond, pulsing between us like a second heartbeat.
Then—
“Ah. The fated pair.”
The voice is smooth, dark, laced with amusement. I turn.
Seraphine, the Blood Queen, steps forward—tall, pale, dressed in a blood-red gown that hugs every curve. Her hair is midnight black, her lips painted the same shade as her dress. She’s the Vampire Lord’s ally, a woman who claims she once bore Kael’s heir, who wears a forged mating mark like a trophy. And she’s watching me like I’m a threat.
“Morgana,” she says, smiling. “How… charming to see you again. Though I must say—” Her gaze flicks to Kael. “—I didn’t expect you to be so… claimed.”
“It was unexpected,” I say, voice steady.
“Mm.” She steps closer, her scent—cold roses and iron—cutting through Kael’s dominance. “And yet, here you are. Bound to the Wolf King. How… tragic.”
“It’s none of your business,” Kael growls.
Seraphine ignores him, her eyes locked on me. “I’ve heard rumors. That the bond is strong. That it consumes you. That you scream his name in your sleep.”
My face burns.
“Lies,” I say.
“Are they?” She reaches out, her fingers brushing my wrist. Cold. Deliberate. A jolt runs through me—not from fear. From something darker. Something I don’t want to name.
Kael moves like lightning.
He steps between us, his hand closing around her wrist, crushing it. “Touch her again,” he says, voice low, dangerous, “and I’ll rip your arm from your socket.”
Seraphine doesn’t flinch. Just smiles. “Possessive, aren’t we? But tell me, Kael—” She tilts her head. “—does she want you? Or is she just afraid of the bond?”
“She’s mine,” Kael says. “And that’s all that matters.”
Seraphine chuckles. “For now.”
She turns to me, her voice dropping to a whisper only I can hear. “If you ever want out… my offer still stands. Power. Freedom. A way to break the bond.”
My breath catches.
She winks. “Just say the word.”
Then she’s gone, melting into the crowd.
I stand there, my pulse racing, my skin still tingling where she touched me. Not from fear. From awareness. From the dangerous, traitorous thought: What if she’s right? What if there’s another way?
Kael turns to me, his eyes blazing. “Don’t even think about it.”
“I wasn’t,” I snap.
“You were,” he says, stepping closer. “I can smell it on you. Interest. Curiosity. Want.”
“You don’t get to tell me what I feel.”
“I don’t,” he says, his voice dropping. “But your body does. And right now, it’s screaming that you want me.”
He leans in, his breath hot against my ear. “Prove her wrong. Prove me wrong. Show them all who you belong to.”
Then he’s gone, moving to the dais, leaving me standing there, shaken.
The Council session is a blur—debates, decrees, political maneuvering. I don’t hear a word. My mind is on Seraphine. On her offer. On the way her cold fingers sent a shiver through me, not of fear, but of something else.
And on Kael.
On the way his grip tightened when she touched me. On the way his voice dropped, possessive, furious.
He was jealous.
The thought hits me like a blade.
Not anger. Not dominance. Jealousy.
And for the first time, I wonder—what if I could use that?
What if I could make him hurt?
The session ends. The crowd begins to disperse. I wait until Kael is speaking with Riven, then slip away, moving through the corridors toward the east wing—where the Fae Enclave is housed.
The Fae chambers are a stark contrast to the rest of the fortress—ivory stone, silver vines carved into the walls, the air thick with the scent of moonflowers and old magic. I knock once.
The door opens.
Lyra.
My childhood friend. My only confidante. The one person who knows who I really am.
She stands there, her dark hair braided with silver thread, her green eyes sharp. She doesn’t smile. Just steps aside. “Come in.”
I do.
The room is warm, lit by floating orbs of soft light. A fire crackles in the hearth. She closes the door, then turns to me. “You look like hell.”
“I feel like it,” I say, sinking into a chair.
She studies me. “You slept with him.”
It’s not a question.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“And?”
“And I don’t hate him anymore.”
She doesn’t react. Just pours tea from a silver pot, hands me a cup. “I know.”
“You do?”
“I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” she says. “Like you’re the only air in the room. And the way you look at him—like you’re trying not to drown in him.”
I look down. “I came here to kill him.”
“And now?”
“Now I think I love him,” I say, voice breaking. “And I don’t know how to stop.”
She sits across from me, her gaze steady. “Then don’t.”
“You don’t understand—”
“I do,” she says. “You’re not the only one who’s had to choose between duty and desire. But listen to me—” She leans forward. “—you’re not safe here. Not from them.”
“From who?”
“Seraphine,” she says. “And Thorne. They’re working together. They’ve been feeding lies to the Council, stirring unrest. They want the treaty to fail. And they’re using you to do it.”
My breath catches. “How do you know?”
“Because I’ve been watching,” she says. “I’ve seen them meet in the lower tunnels. I’ve heard them whisper. They’re not just trying to break the bond. They’re trying to start a war.”
“Why?”
“Because if the treaty fails,” she says, “the Supernatural Council collapses. And Thorne believes he can seize power. Seraphine wants revenge on Kael for rejecting her. And you—” She looks at me. “—you’re the spark. The one they’ll use to ignite it all.”
I press two fingers to the mark on my shoulder. It pulses—warm, alive, hungry.
“They want me to turn on him,” I say.
“Yes,” Lyra says. “And if you do, they win. But if you stand with him—” She reaches out, takes my hand. “—you can stop them. You can save us all.”
“I don’t know if I can,” I whisper.
“You already are,” she says. “You saved him in the forest. You healed him with your blood. You let him claim you. You’re not just his mate, Morgana. You’re his shield.”
“And what if I fail?”
“Then we burn,” she says simply. “But you won’t fail. Because you’re not just a weapon. You’re a queen.”
Tears spill down my face. I don’t wipe them away. “I came here to destroy him.”
“And now,” Lyra says, “you’re the only one who can save him.”
I look at her. “What do I do?”
“Stay close,” she says. “Watch. Listen. And when the time comes—” She leans in, her voice dropping. “—strike first.”
I nod.
And for the first time, I don’t feel like a traitor.
I feel like a soldier.
I rise, my legs shaky. “Thank you.”
She stands, pulls me into a tight embrace. “Be careful. And don’t trust anyone. Not even me.”
I pull back. “I trust you.”
“Then you’re a fool,” she says, but her eyes are soft. “Now go. Before they notice you’re gone.”
I leave.
As I walk back through the corridors, the bond hums between us—stronger, hotter, hungrier. And for the first time, I wonder—
What if I don’t want to win this war?
What if I want to lose?
What if I want to belong?
I came here to kill the Wolf King.
And now, I’m not sure I can.
Because I don’t know if I want to.
Because I don’t know if I want to be anyone else.
Because I don’t know if I want to be free.
Because I don’t know if I want to be anything but his.