Chapter Thirty Nine
The first thing I felt was warmth.
Not fire. Not silver burning through my veins.
Just warmth. A blanket tucked heavy across me. The faint weight of bandages on my skin.
I opened my eyes.
My room. My bed. Shadows stretched long across the wooden beams above me. I pushed up fast, too fast, and hissed when the bandages tugged against my ribs.
"You're awake."
My head snapped sideways.
Dax sat in the chair by my bed, slouched like he'd been there a while, dark hair a mess, clothes bloodstained, shadows under his eyes. But his gaze was lit with relief, fierce and aching.
"You're okay," he rasped, voice low.
I blinked at him, breath shallow. "What happened?"
He leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees. "After you—after de Silva got to you—I killed him." His jaw tightened, like the memory was still raw. "Once he fell, their wolves broke. The Council packs lost their footing. Northern Circle rallied and drove them back. They retreated."
Retreated. Gone. Relief swelled sharp in my chest, almost painful. It was over.
But the relief curdled quick. "Casualties?" I asked.
His eyes dropped. "A lot of injuries. Too many losses. But—" he forced himself to look back at me, steady, certain. "Mostly everyone made it. We held the line."
My throat ached.
Too many losses. Too many names. Faces. But alive. Most of them alive.
Before I could sink into it, his voice cut in again. Softer. "What about you? How do you feel?"
I frowned. "I—" The question knocked me off balance.
How did I feel?
My ribs ached, but the fire of silver was gone. The weakness. The poison that should've lingered in me had burned out. I tested my breath. My pulse. My limbs. Strong. Too strong.
That's when I felt it.
A heat against my skin. Not from the wound. Not from the bandages. Lower, on my neck.
I lifted my hand. My fingers brushed the spot where his teeth had sunk into me.
The mark.
Memory slammed into me.
His face above mine, apology in his voice, then teeth breaking skin and everything going black.
My stomach dropped.
"You—" My voice broke into a whisper. "You marked me."
He didn't flinch. Didn't look away. "I had to."
I stared at him, fury flooding so fast it drowned out the ache of relief, of survival. "You had no right." My voice cracked sharp. "You had no right to do that."
His jaw clenched. "If I hadn't, you'd be dead. The silver was killing you. The mark burned it out of your system."
"I didn't consent—"
"You didn't have time." His voice snapped, hard. Then softened, rough. "I wasn't going to stand there and watch you die when I had the power to save you."
Rage choked me. "So you made the decision for me? To bind me, for life, without even asking?"
His eyes blazed. "I made the decision to keep you breathing."
The room felt too small. My chest too tight. "Get out."
"No." His voice was final, stone. "We need to talk about this."
"I said get out!"
But he stayed, unmovable, shadow and steel. So I did the only thing I could. I shoved the blanket off me, ignoring the throb in my ribs, and stormed out.
The halls smelled like smoke and herbs, half the healers' wing still filled with groaning wolves. My feet carried me fast, pulse wild, until voices stopped me.
"Kiera?"
I froze.
Lucien with Talia behind him.
Both of them looked wrecked. Ttired, bloodstained, bruised.
But when their eyes found me, relief broke through.
"You're alive," Talia breathed, rushing forward, pulling me into a crushing hug before I could stop her, her cheek brushing against mine in unabashed affection. Pain flared in my ribs but I didn't push her away.
Lucien's shoulders eased, just barely. "We thought—" He swallowed hard. "It's good to see you up."
I should've felt joy. Relief. The comfort of seeing them alive, standing, breathing. But all I could feel was the raw fury boiling through me still.
Talia caught it. She leaned back, studying me. "What happened?"
"Dax," I spat, voice sharp. "He marked me. Without my permission."
Her face twisted, outrage immediate. "I know, the bastard."
Lucien's brow furrowed, but he didn't look shocked. Just tired. "It saved your life, Kiera."
I spun on him. "Don't you dare defend him."
"I'm not defending him," he said evenly. "I'm saying it was the only way."
"That doesn't make it right."
"It makes it necessary."
The argument dangled there, bitter and jagged. Talia took my arm, her glare matching mine. "You're right. He had no right. Marking is sacred, Kiera. It should've been your choice."
Lucien's jaw ticked. "And now she's alive to make choices. Because of him."
I couldn't stand it. Couldn't stand either of them being right in their own way. My chest ached. My ribs throbbed. And I couldn't breathe in the space between fury and gratitude.
"I need air," I muttered, pulling away from them both, retreating before I said something that would split me apart further.
The weeks blurred.
Northern Circle rebuilt. We buried the dead. Healers worked day and night, the halls echoing with pain and mourning and slow laughter as the living clung harder to life.
And Dax stayed.
Not just for his wounded wolves. Not just because his presence steadied the chaos. But because he wouldn't leave me.
Even when I avoided him. Even when I turned my back, too raw, too furious to look at him without remembering the heat of his teeth on my neck.
But he didn't push. He didn't demand. He waited.
And the longer I watched him, how he helped the healers, how he trained with the wounded, how he kept his wolves steady, the harder it became to hold on to that fury.
Until one night, I found myself outside his quarters.
My knuckles hovered at the door. Then knocked.
He opened fast, like he'd been waiting. His eyes softened when he saw me.
"Kiera."
I stepped inside, heart hammering. "I need to know something."
He nodded, silent.
"If I hadn't been dying..." My throat caught, but I forced it out. "Would you have marked me?"
His chest rose and fell, slow. His gaze locked to mine, unflinching, shadowed but certain. "Yes."
The breath left me.
"But," he said, stepping closer, voice low and rough, "not like that. Not without you knowing. Not without you choosing me too. I wanted it to be yours as much as mine."
Something cracked open in me. The fury I'd been holding onto dissolved, leaving only the ache beneath it.
"You—" My voice faltered. "You wanted me."
His eyes burned, steady, raw. "I've wanted you since the second you stood in that council chamber and looked at me like you weren't afraid. You drive me mad, Kiera. And I don't know how to stop wanting you."
My chest tightened, breath sharp. "But I can't leave them. My people. I can't walk away."
He nodded, without hesitation. "I know. You're their Chief. They need you."
"Then it won't work."
Something softened at his mouth. A small, rueful curve. "The winters will be hard to get used to."
I blinked. "What are you saying?"
He stepped closer, so close the heat of him wrapped around me. "I already spoke with Alec. He'll take Eclipse Moon. He'll lead them. They're his as much as they were mine." His hand lifted, hesitated, then dropped, restrained. "My place is here. With you."
My heart stopped. "Dax—"
"You're my mate." His voice was raw, stripped bare. "And I'm not going to spend another second pretending I can live without you."
The words shattered me. All the air left my lungs. The fury, the grief, the fear, they all fell away.
What was left was him. Just him.
I reached for him. Fisted the front of his shirt like I was drowning and he was the only solid thing in the world. I yanked him down, pressed my mouth to his.
The kiss was fire and ice colliding. Fierce. Hungry. Denial and distance breaking apart in a single breath. His mouth crushed against mine, rough and desperate, his hand finally cupping my jaw like he couldn't bear not to touch me.
I gasped into him, and he swallowed the sound, deepening the kiss, pulling me tighter against him until there was no space, no air, nothing but heat and teeth and the ragged sound of our breathing tangling together.
My fingers dug into his shoulders. His other hand slid to my waist, anchoring me like he thought I'd slip away. Every stroke of his mouth was a vow, every press of his lips an apology, a promise, a plea.
The world blurred. Time stilled.
It was only this.
The taste of him, the unshakable certainty that this was what we had both been fighting toward through blood and war and every mistake.
When he broke the kiss, his forehead pressed to mine, his breath shuddered. "Kiera," he whispered, voice breaking on my name.
I swallowed, my lips still tingling, heart hammering so hard it hurt. "Dax."
And then I kissed him again, slower this time. Not desperate. Not furious.
Just full. A seal on what we already knew.
A promise we were finally brave enough to claim.
Finally together! Dax gave up his pack for her! Are we happy?