Elizabeth's embrace was like a silk snare. Theodor felt her body against his, the thin nightdress the only — and wholly insufficient — barrier between his skin and the forbidden warmth of the Lycan. When she mentioned "impure things," a growl vibrated in his chest, a fusion of possessive desire and purest devotion.
He tightened his hold around her waist for a fleeting second, burying his face in the curve of her neck, inhaling the scent of snow and sandalwood as though it were oxygen itself.
— Then let them drool, — he murmured against her skin, his voice laced with a dark promise. — Let them see that the Alpha they covet belongs entirely to you. That every drop of sweat and every strike is for the honor of my Luna.
He drew back reluctantly, dark eyes still locked on hers, before pressing a chaste yet lingering kiss to the black crescent upon her brow.
— I will be waiting for you on the field. Do not delay… Sofia is not the only one who grows impatient with distance.
The Training Grounds
An hour later, the sun stood high. The Morning Sun Pack's training field seethed with movement. The clash of wooden swords and the growls of wolves in human form filled the air.
At the center of it all, Theodor sparred against three warriors at once. His movements were fluid and brutal, a display of raw power meant to impress. Yet upon a wooden bench near the arena, one figure contrasted sharply with the warriors' strength.
Dandara was there. She wore a light dress, her ankle wrapped in conspicuously exaggerated bandages, leaning upon a pale wooden cane. Her expression was one of restrained pain, tearful eyes fixed upon Theodor. Each time he executed a harsher movement, she released a faint gasp, drawing sympathetic glances from younger wolves moved by her "fragility."
The moment Elizabeth appeared at the top of the viewing gallery stairs, the field seemed to freeze. She was immaculate, clad in a midnight-blue gown that deepened the silver of her eyes, walking with the serenity of one who governs her own fate.
Sensing her rival's arrival, Dandara forced herself to rise and, with a soft groan, let the cane fall, hoping someone — preferably Theodor — would rush to her aid.
— Oh! Elizabeth! — Dandara exclaimed, her voice trembling, sweet as sugared poison. — I tried to come apologize to you personally, but my ankle… I fear yesterday's fall was worse than I thought. Will you forgive me for being such a burden?
Theodor halted his sparring, wiping sweat from his brow with his forearm, his gaze shifting between his sovereign fiancée and his fallen friend.
— Oh…
Elizabeth's voice carried mild surprise at the sight of Dandara.
— You truly seem unwell, Dandara… I had not realized it struck you so harshly.
She gestured for her "secretary," her lady Astrid, to retrieve the cane.
— Here, miss.
Astrid placed it back into Dandara's hands before returning to Elizabeth's side.
— I will send herbs for your ankle. It may grow worse if you do not tend it properly.
Elizabeth took the blonde's hands gently.
— It was an accident. You are no burden, Dandara. How could you be? You are Theo's dearest friend. That makes you important to me as well. Do not be so sensitive — I did not take it poorly.
She smiled kindly before catching Theodor's gaze and blowing him a soft kiss.
— Do not injure yourself, Theo.
She paused at the edge of the divider, her dual-toned hair lifting in the breeze.
— Or I shall have to tend your wounds with a thousand kisses.
The training field fell into reverent silence before erupting into whispers of admiration. The younger she-wolves exchanged glances; Elizabeth's posture was not merely that of a Luna, but of a queen unmoved by dust.
Dandara, still gripping the cane Astrid had returned, felt her expression stiffen. Elizabeth's strike had been surgical. By calling her "sensitive" and treating her as a patient in need of herbs, she had reduced Dandara from romantic threat to charitable obligation. The blonde she-wolf felt the weight of Elizabeth's benevolence like an iron collar.
Theodor, meanwhile, felt his blood ignite for an entirely different reason. The promise of "a thousand kisses," spoken before his warriors and allies, was the final blow to his composure.
— For such a reward, Elizabeth, I would face an army alone, — he replied, his voice resonating with possessiveness enough to drain the color from Dandara's face.
He tossed his training blade to one of his betas and vaulted over the arena barrier with predatory grace, heading straight toward the gallery where Elizabeth stood. He ignored Dandara's ankle. Ignored the sheen of tears in her eyes. His focus remained solely upon the woman with dual-toned hair who ruled him with a smile.
Desperate not to lose the stage, Dandara attempted one final move. She released an audible sigh, nearly a lament.
— Truly… the herbs will be helpful. It is only that Theodor always tended to me personally when I was injured as a child. He knows my weak points… but I understand that now he has greater duties.
She looked at him with calculated vulnerability, hoping guilt would anchor him in place.
Theodor hesitated for no more than a fraction of a second, the old instinct to protect the "fragile" Dandara murmuring faintly within him. But the scent of snow and sandalwood drifted toward him, and the memory of Elizabeth's bare skin beneath the morning sun proved stronger.
— Astrid will ensure the herbs reach you, Dandara, — he said, without taking his eyes off Elizabeth. — Elizabeth is correct. You require rest, not sun and the sight of brutal training.
He stopped before Elizabeth and took her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles with an intensity bordering on reverence.
— You distract me, Luna. How am I to maintain discipline among my men when you promise paradise in public?