Nyx POV
Dr. Chambers froze, eyes darting between Dorian and me, her voice slicing clean through the ringing in my ears."You're losing her, Your Highness. If you want her alive, I need to work—now."
Her words barely registered. Losing her.
My brain twisted it wrong. I didn't hear her. I heard him.
There was blood—too much blood—staining the front of his jacket.
"Where are you hit?" I demanded, grabbing him by the lapels. My voice came out sharp, soldier-hard. "Lift your arm!"
He blinked at me, rain dripping from his hair, eyes flashing silver with confusion. "What?"
"Don't 'what' me, Your Majesty," I snapped. "Show me the damn wound."
For a second, I swear he almost smiled. Almost. Then he sighed and lifted his arm, probably more curious than compliant.
My hands moved before my brain did—checking for holes, for slick warmth, for anything. I shoved his jacket open, my palms sweeping down hard muscle, ribs, stomach. His skin was hot under my fingertips, the pulse strong, unbroken. No entry wound. No exit.
The blood was still there, slicking across my knuckles, and panic coiled tighter in my chest. My wolf howled in warning.
"Talk to me, Your Majesty," I said, low and urgent. "Where's the entry point? Did it go through?"
He just stared at me, breathing steady. "Nyx—"
"Don't 'Nyx' me," I barked, fingers still probing. "I'm not losing another asset on my watch. I—"
And then I saw it.
The blood wasn't on him. It was dripping from me. A single, bright line running down my arm, staining his chest where I'd grabbed him.
Wait.
No.
That couldn't—
The burn hit. Sharp. Silver. Radiating outward from my shoulder like fire trying to eat its way to my heart.
My knees wobbled.
"Nyx," he said, catching my wrists. His voice was calm, too calm, and I hated it. "Stop. Look at me."
"No," I hissed, still half in denial, still soldiering on because that's what I did. "You're the King. I don't care about me—if you're compromised—"
"Nyx."
One word. Deep. Commanding. His wolf pushed it through the bond, a growl that wasn't sound so much as sensation—electric, heavy, impossible to ignore.
The effect was instant. My breath hitched. My spine locked. My eyes dragged up to his, silver burning through the rain like a blade.
And that's when I saw what he already knew. The blood. My sleeve soaked through. The way his hands trembled slightly as he held me still.
Not his blood. Mine.
"Oh," I muttered weakly. "Shit."
The ground tilted sideways.
I tried to step back, but my body had other ideas. My knife slipped from my hand, hitting the stone with a sound that felt way too final.
Dorian moved faster than I'd ever seen anyone move. He caught me before I fell, one arm under my shoulders, the other bracing my head. His scent—cedar and storm—wrapped around me, grounding and wild all at once.
"Cassian!" he barked.
Boots thundered behind us. Dr. Halden—Chambers, whatever her name was—was suddenly kneeling in the mud beside me, fingers pressing hard against my arm.
"Silver round nicked an artery," she said tightly. "She won't make it another minute."
Her words floated in from a distance. They should've scared me. Instead, all I could think was: huh, so this is how it ends.
"Move her!" Cassian shouted. "We can still make evac!"
"No," Dorian said. His voice was something otherworldly now—low, dangerous, not quite human. "We won't make it."
He was right. I could feel it. The edges of my vision were going dark, curling inward.
"Don't… you dare," I mumbled. "I've had worse."
He looked down at me with a mix of fury and something terrifyingly close to fear.
Dr. Halden's voice dropped to a murmur meant only for him. "There's only one way to stabilize her. You finish the mark."
The world snapped into clarity for half a heartbeat. "Don't you dare," I whispered. "That's bad politics, Your Majesty."
His jaw flexed. "I don't need politics," he said. "I need you alive."
I tried to argue—something witty, something stubborn—but my tongue was lead.
He lifted me, pulling me tight against his chest. I could hear his heartbeat hammering through his ribs, wild and steady all at once. His fingers brushed my face, softer than they had any right to be.
"Forgive me, Shadow," he whispered. "I'm not asking for permission. I'm asking for your survival."
His breath ghosted against my neck.
Then pain.
It hit like lightning—pure, searing, world-ending. My body convulsed once, a sound I didn't recognize ripping from my throat. Every nerve lit up in gold fire.
And then came the bond.
Not the gentle hum it had been before. This was a detonation—heat, hunger, heartbeat, history—all crashing together until I couldn't tell where I ended and he began.
The silver inside me screamed as it burned away. My pulse faltered, stopped—then came back, synced perfectly with his.
For a terrifying second, I was gone.
Then I gasped, air slamming back into my lungs like a gift.
The world came into focus: rain, thunder, the metallic taste of blood, and Dorian's face above mine—eyes molten gold, Lycan fully risen.
I blinked up at him. "That was… dramatic."
He didn't smile. His hand trembled as it brushed my cheek. "You stopped breathing," he said hoarsely.
"Yeah, well," I croaked, voice rough. "You bite hard."
Cassian made a strangled noise behind us. Dr. Halden muttered, "Goddess save me, they're both insane."
Dorian ignored them, pressing his forehead against mine. His voice dropped low, more command than comfort. "Breathe, Nyx."
And I did.
The forest went silent, even the rain seemed to pause. Through the bond, I felt the words forming in him before he spoke them—cold steel wrapped in wildfire.
"No one touches her again," he said, voice carrying through the storm. "She is the Queen."
The declaration rolled through the trees, through my bones, through the bond that tied us now in blood and fire.
And as the darkness finally closed in again, one last thought cut through the haze—Great. I just survived a prophecy and accidentally married a King.