The dead raven arrives at dawn, silver dagger through its heart.
Kaine's calling card.
My hands shake as I read the note: "Your new mate smells delicious. Can't wait to taste him."
Ice floods my veins. Not again. Not Luca.
I find him still sleeping, beautiful and vulnerable in our bed. My chest tightens with terror and love.
"Luca." I touch his face gently. "Baby, wake up."
His eyes open, immediately sensing my distress. "What's wrong?"
"Kaine. He's coming for you." I show him the note.
Fear flashes across his face, but he steadies quickly. "Okay. What do we do?"
"You stay hidden. Protected—"
"No." He sits up. "We fight together. I'm not Marcus, Rian. I won't die because you tried to protect me alone."
His words pierce me. "You don't understand—"
"I understand you're terrified. I feel it through the bond." He cups my face. "But locking me away won't save me. We're stronger together."
"If something happens to you—"
"It won't. Because we'll face him together." He kisses me fiercely. "Trust me. Trust us."
I pull him close, breathing him in. "I can't lose you."
"You won't." He climbs into my lap, arms around my neck. "I'm not going anywhere."
I kiss him desperately—fear and love and need tangling together. His response is immediate, reassuring, grounding me.
"I need you," I breathe against his mouth. "Need to feel you're real. Here. Mine."
"Then take me." His eyes are dark with understanding. "Claim me again. Remind us both that I'm yours."
I strip him quickly, desperately. He helps, just as frantic. When we come together, it's intense—driven by fear and love and the primal need to affirm our bond.
"Mine," I growl with each thrust. "My mate. My heart. Mine."
"Yours," he gasps, clinging to me. "Always yours. Forever."
When we finish, both shaking and complete, I hold him close.
"I won't let Kaine take you," I vow.
"I know." He kisses my chest. "Now let's make a plan. A real plan. Together."
We spend the morning strategizing. Luca refuses to hide, insists on training harder, wants to be part of the defense.
"You're human," I argue.
"I'm YOUR human. Your mate. Your Luna." His eyes blaze. "And I'm not dying without a fight."
His fierce determination is arousing and terrifying.
"Fine. But you train with me. Every day. No mercy."
"I wouldn't want it any other way."
That afternoon, we train intensely. I push him harder than ever—teaching him to fight dirty, to survive.
When I pin him to the mat, both of us are breathing hard, covered in sweat.
"You're holding back," I growl.
"You're my mate. I don't want to hurt you."
"If Kaine comes, you hurt him or you die. Choose."
Fire lights his eyes. He surges up, using a move I taught him, flipping our positions.
"Like that?" he challenges.
Pride and arousal flood through me. "Exactly like that."
I pull him down for a bruising kiss. Training forgotten, we claim each other right there on the mat—desperate, intense, affirming life and love.
Later, tangled together, sweaty and satisfied, he traces my chest.
"We'll survive this," he says.