Consciousness slammed into me like a wave.
I didn't drift awake. I snapped awake—heart pounding, lungs pulling air in too sharp, too fast. My body was hot, humming, like every cell had been rewired.
At first, all I saw was white. White walls, white sheets, the sharp glare of overhead lights softened by glass panels. Not a palace infirmary. Not a standard hospital ward.
No—this was elite.
My training catalogued everything in seconds: state-of-the-art cardiac monitors, nanite infusion systems, a wall of touchscreens displaying vitals I'd only seen in black ops units. The IV line in my arm wasn't just saline—it was laced with a cocktail of regeneratives. Even the bed wasn't standard; the frame whispered with stabilizers that adjusted to micro-movements in my pulse.
I knew elite tech. I'd been patched up in black sites, recovery houses, and covert facilities. But this? This was beyond.
And I was strapped to half of it.
"W—what the hell?" I muttered, tugging at the wires.
That's when I noticed it.
My senses.
I could hear the faintest whisper from outside the room—two guards talking about rotation schedules. I could hear a heartbeat three rooms down. I could see the micro-fissures in the plaster above my head, so small no untrained eye would catch them.
And the smells.
Gods, the smells. Antiseptic, steel, ozone from the tech. My own blood, faintly metallic. But above all, cutting through everything like a blade—him.
His scent was thick in my lungs. Pine, smoke, danger.
My stomach clenched. My wolf stirred.
Mate, I thought, horrified.
And then Kelly exploded inside me.
YES. MATE! she screamed, her voice a triumphant howl. Our mate! Finally!
Her joy was so loud it drowned everything else, thrumming through me like a drumbeat. She was humming, purring, calling, her presence rolling like a siren song pulling a soldier to shore.
I shoved at her. Shut the fuck up, Kelly!
She cackled, rolling on her back in my mind, tail lashing with delight. Well, you started it. Don't blame me because you're burning up for him.
"I am not—" I hissed out loud, slamming my eyes shut.
But my body betrayed me. My nostrils flared, searching for his scent like oxygen.
And then the door slammed open.
He filled the space instantly.
And a shadow at the doorway. Broad shoulders. Stillness that could only mean one person.
"Don't tell me," I croaked, my throat raw. "I died and got the overprotective version of heaven."
Dorian's voice rumbled back, dry as gunpowder. "You're not dead. You're just stubborn."
I blinked at him. He filled the doorway, shoulders broad enough to block out the hallway beyond. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, collar undone, tie gone. His hair was damp, as if he hadn't left my bedside long enough to sleep or care.
"Define 'stubborn,'" I rasped.
"Waking up after being shot, bitten, and crowned, then insulting the King," he said.
I snorted—instantly regretted it. Pain lanced up my arm. "Oh good. Still hurts. That means I'm alive."
"You're barely alive." He moved closer, every step measured, deliberate. "Dr. Halden says the bullet grazed the artery. The silver's out, but your body's still repairing."
I pushed up on my elbows. "I don't need a post-op lecture, Your Majesty. Just my weapon."
That made him stop. "Your what?"
"My weapon." I held out my hand. "Gun, blade, anything pointy. I feel naked without it."
"You're in a hospital gown," he pointed out. "You are naked."
"Then give me a knife so I feel less naked," I shot back.
He sighed—long, suffering, Alpha-level patience. "You're impossible."
"I'm a soldier. That's who I am."
His gaze softened a fraction. "Not anymore."
I froze. "Excuse me?"
"You're Queen now."
The words hit harder than the bullet. "You've got to be kidding me."
"It's the law of the bond," he said quietly. "You carry my mark, Nyx. The court's already been notified. The Council wants a ceremony. The press is calling you the 'Shadow Queen.'"
"Oh, perfect," I muttered. "Do I get a tiara with my trauma?"
"Yes, you do." His voice dropped an octave.
I looked at him—really looked. The faint bruise along his neck where my blood had dried. The exhaustion behind his eyes. The way his hand hovered near the bedrail but didn't touch, like he didn't trust himself not to.
"What else aren't you telling me?" I asked.
He hesitated. "The prophecy's public now. The priests released the story. The people think your bond fulfilled it. You've become…" He searched for the right word. "Popular."
"Popular," I echoed flatly. "Fantastic. I always wanted to trend while bleeding out."
His mouth twitched. "They call you the people's queen."
"Yeah, well, people are idiots."
That got him to smile—barely. A ghost of amusement before it vanished again.
The silence stretched. The air between us hummed, charged and heavy. My wolf stirred, restless, recognizing its mate even if my head wanted to throw something at him.
Then the door slid open behind him. Cassian poked his head in, holding two cups of coffee."Good. She's awake," he said cheerfully. "You're not dead. That saves paperwork."
"Thanks for the concern, Beta," I muttered.
"Always heartfelt," he said, handing Dorian a cup. "You two look cozy. Should I come back later? Maybe after the royal make-out session?"
"Cassian," Dorian growled.
"Right. Leaving." He winked at me. "Glad you're not a corpse, Your Highness. The King's been growling at everyone. Even the coffee machine flinched."
When the door closed again, I stared at Dorian. "You've been here the whole time."
"Yes."
"Why?"
He looked offended by the question. "Because you almost died."
"That's not an answer."
His eyes met mine, bright and unguarded for once. "Because I couldn't leave you."
For a second, I forgot how to breathe. The bond pulsed, responding like it had its own heart.
Then I cleared my throat and looked away. "Well, that's inconvenient."
He actually chuckled. A low, dangerous sound that warmed places I didn't want warmed.
"You should rest," he said, stepping back toward the door.
"Not until you tell me who's hunting us."
"Nyx—"
"Don't 'Nyx' me," I snapped. "Someone fired a silver round at the Lycan King on his wedding night. That's not random."
His jaw clenched. "We'll discuss it when you're stronger."
"You're assuming I'll listen when I'm stronger."
That made him pause, then sigh. "You're infuriating."
"Thank you. It's part of my charm."
He turned toward the door, but his gaze lingered on me. "You're safe here," he said quietly. "No one will touch you."
"Funny," I said. "That's what you said before you bit me."
His eyes darkened. "That bite saved your life."
"And stole my autonomy."
He didn't argue. Didn't apologize either. He just stared for a long moment—like he wanted to say a thousand things and didn't trust a single one. Then he left, the door closing behind him with soft finality.
I lay back, exhaling slowly. My wolf purred faintly, satisfied. My mind screamed betrayal.