I came here to kill the Wolf King.
And now I’m standing beside him in the Great Hall, my hand laced in his, our magic still humming in the air like a storm that refuses to pass. The runes on the floor glow faintly, pulsing with the echo of my power, of our bond, of the truth I just tore from the shadows and flung into the light. The High Elder has retreated, his staff lowered, his face pale. The envoys whisper. The pack watches. And Kael—my king, my mate, the man who took a blade, a poison, and ten years of my hatred for me—doesn’t look at them.
He looks at me.
Gold meets gold. His eyes burn with something I can’t name. Not possession. Not dominance. Not even pride.
Wonder.
Like he can’t believe I’m real. Like he still expects me to vanish, to turn away, to remember the temple and the blood and the lie he let me believe—and leave.
But I don’t.
I step closer, my body pressing into his side, my pulse syncing with his. The mating mark on my shoulder pulses—warm, alive, claimed. Not by force. Not by magic. But by choice.
“You were magnificent,” he murmurs, so low only I can hear.
“I was furious,” I correct.
“Same thing,” he says, and there’s a ghost of a smile on his lips. The first real one I’ve ever seen.
I don’t smile back. Not yet. But something inside me—tight, broken, coiled like a spring—unwinds just a little.
The Council adjourns in chaos. The final signing is postponed. The envoys scatter like leaves in a storm. Seraphine vanishes without a word. Thorne watches from the shadows, his black eyes gleaming, his lips curved in something that isn’t quite a smile. And the Fae envoy—Elder Veylin, who once called my mother a traitor—doesn’t meet my gaze as he leaves.
Good.
Let him burn in silence.
Kael doesn’t speak as we walk back to his chambers. His grip on my hand is firm, possessive, but not tight. His thumb brushes my knuckles, slow, deliberate. The bond hums between us—stronger now, deeper, hungrier—a live wire stretched taut. I should be exhausted. I should be afraid. I should be questioning everything.
But all I feel is right.
Like I’ve been walking in the dark for ten years, and finally, I’ve found the door.
The door to his chambers clicks shut behind us. The lock turns. The torches flicker, casting long, sharp shadows across the stone walls. The hearth is cold, the bed unmade, the scent of pine and iron and him thick in the air. I don’t move. Just stand there, my back to the door, my breath shallow, my heart pounding.
He turns to me.
“You don’t have to stay,” he says, voice rough. “Not if you’re not ready.”
“I’m not leaving,” I say.
“You could,” he says. “You could walk out that door. Start over. Be free.”
“I am free,” I say, stepping closer. “Because I’m not running anymore. I’m not hiding. I’m not pretending I don’t 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 door. 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 coat, 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 gown, the golden 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 gloves, his coat, his shirt. His chest is a battlefield—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 gown 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.