Chapter 31 #2
She gasped against him and he swallowed it like a drug. Her nails raked down his back. He groaned—a sound of surrender and need, primal and raw.
It was chaos. It was reckless. And gods, it was too easy to fall. Too easy to forget the rules and the ruin waiting for them. It felt like the end of the world, like two stars colliding in a ruinous crush of need and memory.
She was falling too fast, too deep, and she didn’t know if she would ever surface. But as the war ignited beneath her skin, something faltered. One moment she clung to him like he was the only steady thing left; the next, her grip loosened, the first thread of doubt slipping through.
Her pulse staggered, because this wasn’t just a kiss. It was an unravelling, a boundary shattering.
And she wasn’t ready to face what came next.
A tremor ran through her fingers as she took in a sharp breath. Then she pulled away. Not quickly, not harshly, but just enough. Just enough for him to feel it—the shift, the absence, the ache of what he’d nearly had and just lost.
His breath caught. For a heartbeat, he froze, the hunger still roaring through his blood.
Then he exhaled—sharp at first, then steadier.
She wasn’t ready yet. When he looked at her again, he forced a soft, knowing smile.
His thumb traced her lips slowly, carrying the weight of both reassurance and warning.
He would wait for her, but not forever, and not silently.
His eyes searched hers, grounding her, holding her there.
And moon above, she was beautiful. The way she trembled, breathless and undone.
The way she pulled back, so fragile, so pure, so unguarded.
Stars help him. It undid him.
He would not die today, because this war wasn’t just about thrones or crowns. It was about her. He needed to survive to crack her open, to draw her to him, piece by piece, until there was nowhere left to run. Until she chose him, not in fear, or hesitation, but in certainty.
That was his vow.
But vows didn’t quiet the ache. And stars, it burned that someone else had claimed a moment before war without bleeding for it like he had. Without fighting for every kiss, every breath, every inch of her trust.
His golden eyes burned into hers, resolute. Then came the smirk—sharper now, honed like a blade. The ache in his chest twisted, craving retribution masked as control.
His voice dropped, steady—too steady.
"And your Dragov king? Ready to rewrite history?"
Eris held his gaze, unflinching. "He is."
Something inside him splintered, because he knew what she had done to make him so. Knew what Stephan took before marching to war, because it was exactly what he would have taken.
Had she been his the night before, he would’ve left her marked in every possible way that mattered, so that even if the world tore him apart, she’d still carry his name in her bones. He didn’t want to possess her. But gods, he had wanted to be the last name she whispered before fate came calling.
Rage coiled beneath his ribs, not because Stephan took, but because she gave.
Willingly. Trust he’d fought to earn, handed to a man who’d never bled for it.
The thought of Stephan claiming her was a trespass he could’ve torn a throat out for.
His fingers curled, just once, then stilled.
His smirk darkened. It wasn’t a grin—it was a shield.
"Of course he is. You’ve always known how to make kings ready to die for you. "
The words landed like both a test and a curse.
Her breath caught, her body flinching before she could stop it.
It struck deeper than steel, because it was true.
Her gaze dropped, heavy with guilt, because she had done this to him.
He had loved her freely, fiercely, without chains, and she had let him suffer.
He noticed, and gods, it killed him.
What point was there in unleashing his rage on her? She was already bleeding, already at war with herself, with fate, with love, and his duty had always been to protect her, not break her.
So he exhaled sharply. His voice came out smooth, unreadable, like fire buried beneath stone.
"Well, let him be ready to rewrite history.
" He fell silent for a moment as the tension between them sharpened, the storm no longer waiting at the edges but pressing in. "Because I’ll be right there, making damn sure he doesn’t get all the glory. "
It was a challenge and a reminder that he would not be left behind. His golden eyes burned with a fire that was fierce and unforgiving. He reached for her, fingers brushing the back of her neck. His forehead pressed to hers, grounding them both in the storm.
His voice dropped low and rough, like an unbreakable vow.
“My men will guard you with their lives.” His breath ghosted over her lips. And then, softer, but just as deadly: “If the world dares touch you—I’ll burn it to ash and walk through the fire to find you.”
Her body went rigid as a violent pang bloomed beneath her ribs, sharp and sudden, like something inside her had torn.
She clutched his pelt too hard, her grip too desperate, because letting go would mean stepping into everything waiting below.
It would mean war, blood, fate. It would mean watching him ride away, not knowing if she would ever see him again.
She squeezed her eyes shut, breathed him in, and memorized everything she could, as if this would be the last time. One more breath. One more moment before the world tore them apart.
Then she smiled, forced, fragile, and wretched. "Go, great Alpha. Win this war. And come back to me."
Kareon exhaled sharply. His eyes blazed, fierce and unshaken. His smirk was the ghost of something softer. Something withheld. Then he spoke, his voice low but certain.
"Try and keep me away."
Without another word, he mounted his stallion and rode toward a fate already written in blood.
Eris remained where she was, watching him go. The wind howled around her. The battle waited. But all she felt was the splintering in her chest, because she had let him go. And gods help her, it already felt like losing him.