They had left the noise of the world behind. The further we walked, the quieter it became—until even the crowd outside was nothing but a memory. The air changed here; richer somehow. Fragrant with polished cedar, candle wax, and power.
The corridors were carved from centuries—arched ceilings inlaid with silver veins; banners embroidered with the sigils of kings long turned to dust. Golden sconces burned low, throwing soft light over marble floors that seemed too sacred for footsteps.
I knew, instinctively, where we were. The royal private suites. His domain. Ours, now.
He stopped before a pair of enormous double doors—ancient wood banded with blackened steel, inlaid with the mark of the first Lycan crown. Thick. Impenetrable. The kind of doors meant to keep secrets and silence alike.
Without breaking stride, Dorian reached down and pushed them open.
The suite inside was… breathtaking. Vast and radiant, like a cathedral carved into the heart of the palace. Velvet drapes swept from vaulted windows—ancient, glorious, lived-in by power itself.
Still, he didn't set me down.
We moved through the space together, past the antechamber and a study through another pair of doors. I knew what lay beyond before we crossed the threshold. Our sleeping chambers.
Kelly barked a laugh in my head, wild and wicked. You ain't doing any sleeping tonight.
The space between us evaporated. "If I touch you now," he said softly, "there's no turning back."
I huffed out a shaky laugh. "You keep reminding me of that."
His eyes burned, gold and dangerous. "No regrets."
"Kinda late for that," I muttered, my pulse pounding so hard it felt like it echoed off the walls. "But just so we're clear—I'm still a soldier. We'll have to find a happy medium."
One of his brows arched, amused. "A happy medium?"
"Yeah." I lifted my chin, defiant even as heat pooled low in my stomach. "I plan to still be on the field. Training. Leading missions. And when I'm full term with our pups—because let's not pretend that's not going to happen—they'll know their mother wasn't some porcelain doll locked in a tower. They'll be soldiers too. No softies in this family."
He laughed then—low, rich, that dangerous sound that always did something to me. "You're planning an entire dynasty, and we haven't even mated yet?
"Multitasking," I said, pretending calm while my heart tried to escape my ribs.
The air between us hummed, thick with power, desire, and inevitability.
His eyes glowed gold, his voice low. "You marked me before the kingdom, little wolf. Now I think it's time you understand what that means."
I barely had time to breathe. "What?"
He kissed me.
No warning. No hesitation. Just heat and power. My fingers fisted in his shirt, and the last of my thoughts dissolved.
Kelly howled in my head, delighted. Yes!Finally!
The bond flared, a rush of fire through my veins that felt like both surrender and war. His hand slid to the back of my neck, anchoring me, reminding me that I was no longer alone.
What followed defied language.
Dorian orchestrated everything—the rhythm, the restraint, the surrender. Every move deliberate, every breath a command and a promise. He led, but never overpowered. Even Kelly went quiet in awe.
When his Lycan, the ancient rose, surfaced, the air itself trembled. He wasn't savage, not then. He was reverent. Worshipful. The power that once ruled empires now moved through him like controlled fire.
And me? I matched him. Touch for touch. Soldier and king, wolf and Lycan—meeting in a storm that remade us.
When the world finally stilled, I lay in his arms, our limbs tangled, my heartbeats matching his, steady against his chest. For the first time in my life, I didn't feel like a weapon. I felt chosen.
And Kelly… well, you know Kelly. Pure chaos and delight, alternating between egging his wolf on and congratulating herself for her excellent taste in mates.
Intense doesn't begin to cover it.
We fortified our bond throughout the night.When dawn came, the fire in the hearth had burned low, and the world outside began to intrude. The pounding at our doors shattered the quiet—urgent, relentless.
Instinct took over. My hand went straight to the Glock beneath my pillow.
Old habits die hard. I insisted on sleeping with it.
Before I could swing my legs off the bed, Dorian's hand closed gently over mine. "Easy," he murmured. His voice still carried the rasp of the night, low and rough with sleep and something darker.
"They wouldn't dare storm in uninvited," he said. "Not after last night."
I gave him a look. "I've learned to stop underestimating what people dare."
That earned a faint smile—the kind that didn't quite reach his eyes. "And that's why you'll outlive most of them."
He rose, unhurried, every movement smooth and controlled, like a predator stretching after the hunt. The faint glow of the mark still shimmered at his throat where my bite had sealed the bond. My pulse stuttered just seeing it.
"I'm the King," he said, pulling on a shirt, voice returning to that cool, commanding register. "But you, Nyx—you're the weapon they didn't plan for."
I slid the Glock back under the pillow, a small smile curving my lips. "Good. Let's keep it that way."
The pounding came again—louder this time, muffled voices calling through the door.
He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "And here ends our first quiet morning as mated rulers."
I smirked. "I guess the honeymoon's over."
His laugh was low. "The honeymoon will never be over for me." He sighed, "Welcome to ruling a kingdom, little wolf."