The celebration had ended earlier than planned.
Rumors spread quickly among the nobles: Princess Abigail had felt unwell, and so, she had quietly retired to her chambers. The emperor, ever composed with a practiced smile, calmed any suspicion with a few extra toasts and rehearsed remarks.
"Debut nerves, you know," he said, raising his glass. "And a touch of feminine vanity. Tomorrow, my daughter will shine as always."
After personally bidding farewell to the most important guests, the emperor approached the maid assigned to Abigail.
"Take good care of her," he said in a low tone. "No one is to enter or leave her room. Not her sisters. Not the curious. And if she wakes, inform me at once."
The girl nodded, and he walked away with steady steps—though not toward the wing where his daughters resided, but in the opposite direction.
Where silence waited.
Where the secrets of the past had begun to stir.
Meanwhile, in the princess's main chamber, moonlight filtered softly through the windows. The dim lighting barely outlined the furniture and curtains.
Kilian stood by the fireplace, eyes fixed on the flames, but his senses locked on her.
Abigail.
She lay resting, her expression calm, but an undeniable energy still pulsed beneath her skin. The bond, only just sealed, throbbed between them like a living ember.
"You can stay," she said suddenly, her voice weaker than usual, yet filled with something… different. "I don't think I'll sleep peacefully if you're too far away. Not after what I know now."
Kilian turned his head slightly, his profile carved in shadow and fire.
"I'll sleep on the sofa," he replied gently, nodding toward a piece of furniture at the far end of the room. "I'm not leaving. Your scent is still… too strong. And if someone disobeys my orders…"
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.
Abigail nodded. She didn't trust him. Not yet. But she trusted what she had felt when their eyes met. And somehow… that was enough.
Minutes became hours.
Luciana—at that moment, more herself than Abigail—let exhaustion overtake her thoughts and closed her eyes.
Kilian did too.
But Laikan did not.
The shadow inside the king opened golden eyes from the depths of his mind. No walls could hold him, no physical body could restrain him forever. When Kilian slept… he was set free.
And that night, his moon was only steps away. Her scent called to him like the song of an ancient god. A mix of sweet and wild, irresistible, like ripe fruit in the dark of the woods.
He rose from the sofa with feline grace.
And moved toward her.
Luciana slept deeply, her body wrapped in a silk nightgown that left little to the imagination. Laikan leaned over the bed and raised a hand with a reverent gesture. His fingers brushed her cheek—a mere breath of contact—and his voice, more instinct than speech, came in a low murmur.
"You have no idea how long I've waited for you, my moon…"
His touch made her skin shiver, visible even beneath the fine fabric. The wolf stifled a guttural growl as he saw Abigail's nipples harden beneath the silk, as if her body recognized him even in sleep.
Laikan could no longer hold back.
He climbed onto the bed with the grace of a predator and began to kiss her thigh, moving upward slowly, with desire, with ancient need. His tongue traced her skin, leaving a warm, wet trail as he inhaled every particle of her intoxicating scent.
And when he reached her most intimate place, he paused for a moment, breathing heavily.
The scent drove him mad.
He caressed her over the fabric and, seeing her stir with pleasure, pushed the cloth aside with his tongue—with savage precision—and began to massage her most sensitive spot.
Luciana moaned, still asleep, but not unconscious.
Her body burned. Sensations mixed with fragments of a dream that felt real. So real that, without thinking, she lowered her hand and tangled her fingers in Laikan's hair, guiding his movements as if she'd done it a thousand times before.
And Laikan obeyed.
His tongue grew firmer, deeper. Slow at first, then rhythmic, as if responding to a ritual only bodies understood.
But then… it happened.
Luciana spoke. In her sleep. Her voice barely a whisper.
"Dylan… don't stop…"
Laikan froze.
A second later, his body tensed like a cord about to snap. He lifted his head, lips wet, and growled with restrained fury.
"Dylan?!"
In one swift motion, he positioned himself over her, grabbing her by the waist and sliding upward until he was on top of her, legs straddling her, one hand gripping her throat.
Luciana's eyes flew open.
And she didn't see Kilian.
She saw Laikan.
His eyes weren't amber. They were fire. Dark, wild, furious.
"Who the hell is Dylan?" he growled, his voice hoarse with possession.
Luciana, still half-dazed, felt the tension. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. And for a moment, she felt fear. But that fear quickly gave way to anger.
She steadied her breath, closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them again, they were burning too.
"Let me go."
"Not until you tell me who he is," he said, gripping tighter.
Luciana scoffed.
"You're not the one on top of me right now, are you?"
Laikan narrowed his eyes.
"Does it matter?"
"It matters for what I'm about to do."
And without warning, she drove her knee upward in a sharp, precise blow—straight to his groin.
The wolf let out a choked growl, his body collapsing to the side. Pain speared through him like a lance. Control snapped back to Kilian like a whip.
"Ah… fuck!" he gasped, clutching himself with both hands, face contorted in pain.
Luciana sat up in bed, breath ragged, eyes blazing.
"I warned you," she said through clenched teeth. "I'm not a doll, and I'm not your prey. The next time you climb into my bed without permission… you won't be lucky it's just a kick."
Kilian looked at her, still trying to breathe.
"I'm sorry…" he whispered, voice broken. "It wasn't me…"
"I know," she said, though she was still trembling. "But it's still your responsibility."
Silence.
Both of them breathed as if they'd just run a marathon. The sexual tension still lingered in the air—but now tainted with something darker. Something dangerous.
Kilian stood with difficulty, approaching slowly.
"Is Dylan your lover?"
Luciana looked at him, surprised by the question… and by the insecurity she sensed in him.
"Dylan is… part of my past. I don't owe you an explanation," she murmured. "But if you keep letting the wolf take control… there won't be a future."
Kilian said nothing. His eyes were his again. But the pain in his body was nothing compared to the knot in his chest.
"It won't happen again," he vowed quietly. "Even if I have to chain myself."
Luciana nodded slowly. She didn't fully trust him. But something inside her… believed him.
"We'll talk tomorrow," she said, settling back under the covers.
"Tomorrow," he echoed.
Kilian walked to the sofa, not daring to look back.
And that night,
the wolf slept chained.
But not defeated.