The journey back from the Whispering Glade was a blur of rain and silence. By the time they reached a hidden outpost on the edge of the Obsidian territory, Elara was shivering so violently she could barely hold the reins of her horse. The purification of the shard had drained her, leaving her soul feeling like an empty well.
Lyraki didn't ask permission. He lifted her from her saddle and carried her into the small stone cabin, barking orders at his men to set a perimeter. Inside, the only sound was the crackle of a freshly lit fire.
"You need to get out of those wet clothes, Elara," Lyraki said, his voice unusually soft.
He stood by the hearth, the firelight casting long, flickering shadows across his rugged face. The battle-hardened King looked different tonight. The terrifying Alpha who had pinned her to the altar was gone; in his place was a man who looked like he was afraid to breathe too close to her, as if she might break.
"I'm fine," she whispered, though her teeth chattered.
"You aren't." He stepped closer, his presence filling the small room until the air felt heavy. He reached for the buckle of her travel cloak, his large, scarred fingers brushing against her skin.
Elara froze. The "Whisper" in her mind spiked, but it wasn't the usual scream of fear. It was a low, thrumming heat. She could feel his thoughts—not the words, but the feelings. He was drowning in guilt. He could still feel the phantom sensation of his teeth against her throat from when the shard had possessed him.
"Lyraki, look at me," she said, reaching up to stay his hands.
He stayed perfectly still, his gaze fixed on her collarbone. "I almost killed you, Elara. The prophecy says I am your protector, yet I became the very beast you were running from."
"That wasn't you," she insisted, stepping into his space. It was a bold move, a human-passing omega standing toe-to-toe with the most feared Lycan in the world. "I saw the First King's memory. I saw the darkness that lives in your blood. You fought it for me. You came back for me."
He finally looked up, his crimson eyes burning with an intensity that made her knees weak. "I didn't come back for the prophecy. I came back for you."
The confession hung in the air, thick and sweet. Lyraki's hand moved from her cloak to her cheek, his thumb tracing the line of her lower lip. The touch was electric. For the first time, she didn't see him as a king or a captor. She saw the man who had been lonely for three hundred years, waiting for someone who wasn't afraid of his darkness.
Elara leaned into his touch, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. "The bond... it's not just the stone, is it?"
"No," he growled, a low, primal sound that vibrated in her chest. He stepped closer, his chest brushing against hers. "The stone just gave me an excuse to keep you. But my wolf... he has known since the moment I found you in the ash. You are the only peace I have ever known."
He leaned down, his forehead resting against hers. His scent pine, rain, and raw masculinity wrapped around her like a blanket. Elara reached up, her fingers tangling in the thick, dark hair at the nape of his neck. She pulled him down, closing the distance.
The kiss wasn't gentle. It was a collision of two starving souls. It tasted of desperation and relief. Lyraki groaned into her mouth, his hands sliding down to her waist, hoisting her up until she was forced to wrap her legs around his hips. He backed her against the stone wall, the cool rock a sharp contrast to the furnace of his body.
In his mind, she felt a flood of gold pure, unfiltered adoration. He wasn't just claiming her; he was worshipping her.
He pulled back just an inch, his breathing ragged, his eyes glowing brighter than the hearth. "If we do this, Elara... if I mark you... there is no turning back. You will be the Queen of the Obsidian Throne. You will be the target of every dark thing in this world."
Elara looked at him, her violet eyes shining with a strength that matched his own. She realized that she was no longer the girl running through the woods in fear. She was the woman who had silenced the dead and tamed the King.
"Let them come," she whispered, pulling him back down to her. "They'll have to get through both of us."
Outside, the storm raged, but inside the small stone cabin, the cold was forgotten. As the fire burned low, the King and his Cursed Mate finally accepted the fate that had been written in the stars long before they were born.