Chapter 17 #2
I look at Astra. She has half risen from her seat, face twisted with fury. Lucian has straightened, his lounging posture completely abandoned.
“I will not allow such an archaic practice in my kingdom,” Lucian says, cutting through the murmurs like a blade.
Theodore’s smile doesn’t waver. “Unfortunately, Your Majesty, this is the only solution. And the entire Umbra Council stands behind it.”
My knees feel weak. This can’t be happening.
“Alpha Kieran can think about it until the next meeting,” Theodore says, examining his nails as if this is all terribly boring. “But if he doesn’t agree, the Umbra Council will consider it an act of bad faith. We will demand Daciana’s execution.”
I feel like I’ve been kicked in the gut.
“And if you object to that,” Theodore continues pleasantly, staring at Kieran now, “your entire pack will be considered fugitives of the Wolf Kingdom.”
Magic gathers around Kieran. It’s massive, suffocating—a power so vast, it makes the air crackle with electricity.
He’s going to kill them. He’s going to slaughter everyone in this room.
And part of me wants him to.
But I grab his wrist and whisper, “Kieran, don’t.” His magic burns my palm, but I don’t let go.
He looks down at me, power and fury glowing in his eyes. Death stares out from those depths, cold and absolute.
“Kieran,” I say again, more firmly. “No.”
I glance at Astra. Her expression is grim, but she meets my gaze and gives me an almost imperceptible nod. If worse comes to worst, I know she’ll help me. She’ll protect me. I have faith in my friend.
Slowly, reluctantly, Kieran’s magic begins to recede. But the fury doesn’t leave.
The Council begins to disperse, their murmurs filling the throne room. Theodore looks pleased with himself, his arm around Celeste’s shoulders as they walk away.
My knees buckle.
Kieran catches me instantly, his arm wrapping around my waist and pulling me to his chest. His heart is racing, pounding against my cheek.
“I’ll kill them all before I let them touch you,” he whispers savagely into my hair.
I tilt my head back. The rage is still there, but beneath it, I see fear. Not for himself, but for me.
“I know,” I whisper back.
And I do know. He would do anything for me. Would slaughter armies. Would go to war with an entire kingdom.
Our bond pulses, warm and steady despite the madness we face.
I relax into his hold, letting him support my weight. Just for a moment. Just long enough to gather my strength for whatever comes next.
The throne room empties slowly, nobles filing out with whispered conversations and sidelong glances. When the last of them finally leaves, only our small group remains. Lucian and Astra, Seth and Leon, Kieran’s delegation, and us.
Kieran’s voice cuts through the silence. “Return to your quarters.”
His warriors hesitate for only a moment before bowing and filing out. They know better than to question their alpha when he uses that tone.
The door has barely closed behind them when Astra rushes toward me, moving faster than she should in her condition. Her face is flushed with fury.
“I won’t let this happen,” she says fiercely, reaching for my hands. “Even if I have to use my powers to stop it.”
“Astra—”
“No.” Kieran’s voice is sharp. He releases me just enough to turn toward her, his expression grave. “Under no circumstances should you do that.”
Astra’s jaw sets stubbornly. “I am not going to let them—”
“You are nearing the time when you will give birth,” Kieran interrupts her, his tone gentler but no less firm. “Using your abilities could harm the child. You know this.”
I watch Astra’s hand move instinctively to her swollen belly as she is torn between fury and fear.
“Besides,” Kieran continues, “if you use your powers for this, it could incite the very war we’re trying to prevent.”
“Then what do you suggest?” Lucian asks quietly from his throne. There’s a dangerous edge to his voice.
Kieran’s smile is cold. “The Snow Mountain Pack has survived for a long time. Not because we stayed hidden, but because we’re good at getting rid of our enemies.”
The temperature in the room seems to drop again.
“I have no problem killing all the noble families,” Kieran says, his tone conversational. Almost pleasant.
Lucian goes completely still. When he speaks, the sound is low but deadly. “You can’t do that.”
Kieran meets his gaze steadily. “Then the nobles should know their place.” He pauses, and ancient power flickers across his features. “We may no longer be on the throne, but there was a reason my family held power for so many centuries.”
Lucian rises slowly to his feet. “Is that a threat?”
“I am not interested in your throne, young king.” Kieran’s voice is quiet, but it carries. “But I will not have my family threatened again. And Daciana is my family.”
Our bond is warm and strong as it flares between us.
“I am interested in the politics at hand,” Kieran continues, never dropping Lucian’s gaze, “but if you want my help, you will remind the Umbra Council that you are still the king.”
The silence that follows is suffocating.
Finally, Kieran turns, and his hand takes mine, his grip firm and possessive. “Come,” he says quietly.
I follow him out of the throne room, my heart pounding. Rage radiates off him in waves, his magic crackling just beneath his skin. Every step is controlled, measured, but I know he is only a heartbeat away from violence.
We walk through the corridors in silence. Guards step aside, their eyes widening at whatever they see in Kieran’s face. Servants press themselves against walls.
By the time we reach his chambers, my entire body is shaking. Not with fear, but with primal awareness.
The door closes behind us with a heavy thud.
Kieran stands in the center of the room, facing me. His shoulders are rigid, hands clenched into fists at his sides. A tremor runs through him, his barely contained fury threatening to explode.
I move before I can think better of it. My hands press against his chest, and I use all my weight to push him backward until he hits the wall. He lets me.
“Relax,” I tell him.
His body is thrumming with rage, coiled tight like a spring about to snap. But his hands don’t move to touch me. They remain at his sides, shaking with the effort of controlling his wrath.
“How can you ask me to relax?” he asks incredulously. “After what Theodore said? After what they want to do to you?”
“I was upset at first,” I say softly, my fingers sliding into his hair. I loop my arms around his neck, pressing closer. “Terrified, even. The thought of being reduced to a pleasure slave, of being taken from you, and of you being given to that vile woman…It made my stomach turn.”
His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking beneath his skin.
My lips curve into a small smile. “But then, I remembered who my mate is.”
Burning with intensity, his gaze locks onto mine.
“They can’t do anything to me,” I whisper.
“Daciana—”
I kiss him. Softly. Gently. My eyes stay open, watching his face.
He doesn’t respond. His body remains rigid against the wall, every muscle taut.
I kiss him again, a little firmer this time. My fingers tangle in his hair, tugging slightly.
Still nothing.
On the third kiss, I bite his lower lip. Just a little. Just enough.
His hands suddenly clamp around my waist, his grip almost bruising. Then, the room spins.
My back slams against the door, and Kieran’s mouth crashes down on mine with a ferocity that steals my breath.
This isn’t gentle. This isn’t tender. This is raw need and fury and desperation all rolled into one.
His rage, redirected. Not at me, never at me, but transformed into physical need.
All that furious energy channeled into the way his mouth devours mine, the way his body presses against me until there’s no space left between us.
His hands slide up my waist, fingers splaying across my ribs. They move higher, over my breasts, and I gasp against his mouth.
The sound seems to snap something in him.
There’s a sharp, tearing sound, and suddenly, cool air hits my skin. He has ripped my shirt open, buttons scattering across the floor.
A thrill runs through me. I like this. I like it when he loses control, when the civilized veneer falls away and all that’s left is the predator beneath. The beast. The alpha who would destroy the world for me.
I like feeling this powerful, knowing I can reduce him to this. My hands reach for him, desperate to touch, to claim, to take.
He catches my wrists before I can make contact. In one smooth motion, he slams them up against the door above my head, pinning both in one large hand. His other hand slides down my side, and his mouth moves to my throat. I arch against him, my breath coming in short gasps.
“Kieran—”
His teeth scrape against my pulse point, and I forget what I was going to say.
The more ruthless he is, the happier I am. Every rough touch, every possessive grip, every mark he leaves on my skin, they all remind me that I am his. That he is mine. That nothing and no one can take this from us.
His free hand makes quick work of the rest of our clothing, fabric tearing and falling away. Heat pools low in my belly, my pulse racing as his mouth trails lower.
Then, out of the blue, he stops. Freezes completely, his forehead dropping to rest against my collarbone. His breathing is ragged, his body tense.
“Kieran?” I ask breathlessly, confused.
“My people,” he says unevenly, “are patrolling the hallway. After that exchange in the throne room, I ordered them to stand guard.”
Oh.
Disappointment crashes through me, sharp and immediate. I sense how much he wants this, wants me. But I also sense his awareness of his warriors just outside the door, his responsibility to maintain some semblance of control.
“I can hear their footsteps,” he continues, sounding strained. “Their heartbeats. Everything.”
I close my eyes, trying to steady my own racing heart. Of course he can. He’s an alpha. His senses are far sharper than mine.
“Okay,” I whisper.
He lifts his head to look at me, and the regret in his gaze makes my chest ache. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I smile at him even though I’m still pinned against the door, my body still humming with unfulfilled need. “You’re protecting me. I understand.”
His expression softens slightly, and he releases my wrists. His hands come up to frame my face, gentle now, so different from the wildness moments ago.
“Tomorrow,” he says quietly, “I’ll send them to the far end of the wing.”
Despite everything, I let out a laugh. It’s a little shaky, but it’s genuine.
“Tomorrow,” I agree.
He kisses me again, but this time it’s slow. Tender. A promise rather than a claim.
When he pulls back, he carefully tugs the torn edges of my shirt together, though there’s no saving it now. Then, he lifts me into his arms and carries me over to the bed.
He lays me down gently and stretches out beside me, pulling me against his chest. Tension still thrums through his body with frustration that mirrors my own.
But there’s also depth beneath it.
Safety. Protection. Love.
“I won’t let them have you,” he whispers against my hair, his voice hoarse. “I’ll kill every last one of them first.”
I know he means it. I sense the truth of it.
My hand comes up to rest over his heart, and I feel the steady beat beneath my palm. “I know.”
His arms tighten around me, and he takes a shuddering breath.
We stay like that for a long moment, wrapped around each other, our connection pulsing warm and steady despite the interrupted passion, despite the bedlam waiting for us outside this room.
We have a week before the next Council meeting. A week to find a way out of this nightmare. A week to figure out how to refuse Theodore’s demands without starting a war.
But tonight, right now, being held like this is enough.
It has to be.