12. KAEL
Twelve
KAEL
Rose goes quiet when we pass the ridge and Valdemar spreads out below us. Dark stone. Mountains. Wolf banners snapping in the wind. Not golden and polished like Thornhaven. My home is rough. Cold. Built to take a beating and stand.
She breathes in, and I watch her face like my life depends on it. Because it fucking does.
“It’s perfect,” she says.
And she means it. Every word.
Something in my chest unlocks.
* * *
My parents are in the courtyard. My father takes one look at Rose, grunts, and nods at me.
“‘Bout damn time, boy.”
That’s it. That’s all I get. The man ruled a kingdom for thirty years and retired to go fishing. He doesn’t do speeches. I laugh.
Rose blinks. “That’s… it?”
My father shrugs, smiling broadly. “You’re his. He’s yours. Welcome to the family, love.” He winks at her, comes to give us warm hugs, then turns to walk back into the castle.
Rose watches him go, eyes wide. “I see where you get it from.”
I cock an eyebrow. “Get what?”
“The whole…” she waves a hand at me.
Before I can respond, my mother bursts through the doors like a storm. She’s small, dark-haired, fierce, and she’s been waiting thirty-five fucking years for this exact moment.
She grabs Rose’s face in both hands and kisses her forehead. “Welcome home, sweetheart.”
Then she turns and smacks my arm. Hard.
“Ow! What the…”
“That’s for making me wait.” She smacks me again. “And that’s for bonding this beautiful girl in a cursed tower instead of courting her properly, you animal.”
“Ma, there was a curse to break. What was I supposed to do?”
Rose shrugs. “He’s not wrong.”
My mother stares at us, then she laughs, hooks her arm through Rose’s, and steers her inside. “Oh, I like you. Come, let me show you the palace. My son wouldn’t know where to start.”
“I can hear you, Ma!”
“Good!”
Rose glances back at me, giggling. And I stand in my courtyard like a lovesick fool until Ronan clears his throat.
“You’re smiling, sir.”
“Fuck off, Ronan.”
* * *
Our rooms are in the east wing. With a big bed, furs, a stone tub, and windows overlooking the mountains.
My mother leaves with a kiss on Rose’s forehead and a look at me that says behave.
The door clicks shut. And I don’t fucking behave.
My hands are on Rose’s waist, turning her, pressing her against the door before she can even take a breath.
I growl against her bond mark, “I have been waiting to have you in my bed since the second you opened your eyes for me.”
She’s breathless. Already arching. “Patience isn’t your thing, huh, big guy?”
“Not even fucking close.”
I pick her up. Her legs wrap around me. Her scent floods my senses. And the heat that rolls through her has nothing to do with a curse and everything to do with the fact that we’re home, she’s mine, and no one will fucking dare disturb us.
I carry her to the bed. Lay her down on my furs. And just… fucking stare.
“What?” Rosalind whispers.
“You. In my home. In my bed.” My hand drags down her body. “I’ve been imagining this every second of the ride here.”
“And?”
“The reality is so much fucking better.”
“Then stop staring and do something about it, Alpha.”
I strip her slow. My mouth following my hands, pressing heat into every inch of skin I uncover. Without the urgency of the curse, her heat or my rut. Just me choosing to worship my omega, and her arching into my touch because she’s free and awake and alive and mine.
When she’s finally naked in my bed, I stop breathing. My cock strains. My jaw locks.
“Fucking hell, baby.”
She raises a brow. “You’ve seen me naked before.”
“Not in my bed, in my fucking kingdom.” I drag my thumb across her lower lip.
She pulls me down by my neck and kisses me. Slow, deep, wet, fucking filthy. I groan into her mouth, settling over her.
We take our fucking time. No heat crashing, no desperate edge. I push inside her slow, watching her face, and the sound she makes is fucking everything.
I move in long strokes, forehead pressed to hers, eyes open.
“I love you,” she says, looking right at me.
“I know, baby.” I thrust deep, and she gasps. “Love you too.”
“Then stop being gentle and fuck me like you mean it.”
There she is. So I give my mate what she wants. The headboard slams against the stone in a rhythm the whole wing can hear. And I don’t give a single fuck.
My Rose comes with my name on her lips and her nails in my back. I follow, knot locking us together, bond blazing between us.
Then I press my face into her neck. “Welcome home, baby.”
She smiles against the side of my face. “Happy to be here, Alpha.”
* * *
Later. Much later. I’m on my back, Rose on my chest, both of us boneless, when claws scrape on stone. We hear a galloping thud getting closer.
I sigh. “Brace yourself.”
The door crashes open, and a hundred pounds of gray fur launches onto the bed.
Brutus takes one look at Rose and loses his entire fucking mind.
Licking her face, her hands, shoving his head under her arm, wriggling, whimpering, making sounds that no dignified wolfhound should ever make.
Rose is laughing so hard she can’t breathe.
Tears running down her face, my dog in her lap.
I watch them. My mate. My dog. In my home.
“That’s my girl, Brutus,” I tell the giant rascal.
He ignores me and keeps licking her chin.
“Traitor,” I mutter, my lips twitching.