Chapter 010. Claiming Her

Saeris wasn’t frightened of playing the role of his mate. Not until now.

That thought changed the moment she walked into the hall. Banquet tables set against walls were laden with fat, succulent fruits and wreaths of golden bread, interrupted with roast meats, casks of crimson wine and ember-berry brandy, and pies and tarts and little cakes of every size and variety.

But no one ate.

Hundreds of Lycans, dressed in midnight and obsidian, steel-threaded coats and silk-lined gowns, some flashy. Eyes like moons and wolveshine. All of them silent, poised, and waiting.

It was unnatural. Like the whole court had inhaled and refused to exhale until the play was over.

Until she played her part.

And Vaelen—of course—hadn’t warned her. Not of this. Not of them. Not of the gauntlet he’d just thrown her into, dressed in sensual silk and walking straight into a den of lycans who would love nothing more than to see a wolf stripped, snarling, bleeding at their feet.

Her knees wanted to shake. But she didn’t let them.

She lifted her chin and walked like the girl she would never be. Like a mate to a king, not a girl alone and wolfless and fractured.

She didn’t look at anyone until she saw him.

Vaelen stood across the hall, shadowed by a cluster of highborn Lycans. Tall, glittering things in structured black coats and polished boots.

That smile on his face. Prick. That wicked curl of his lips was smug enough to earn a slap and then another. Something had clearly been said before she arrived.

Saeris watched his gaze flick lazily over her, that smirk deepening like he’d just won a bet with himself. Then he turned and crossed the room, walking—no, stalking. And not a single sound echoed.

When Vaelen reached her, his head dipped slightly, like he might kiss her shoulder, except he inhaled instead. “Your heartbeats are a bit frantic.”

His fingers found hers, brushing over her knuckles lightly.

“Is it nerves,” he went on, “or is it me?”

Heat licked up her arm, traitorous and wild. She bit it down.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Saeris hissed, lips frozen in a polite, deadly smile. “I’m just wondering how many of them are imagining ripping my throat out right now.”

Vaelen chuckled good-naturedly. “All of them, I’d wager.”

He was insufferable. That tone alone made her want to gouge out her own ears. And yet … he placed a hand at the small of her back. And it burned. Her spine stiffened, but she didn’t move away. Couldn't. Every Lycan's eye was on them now. On her.

“I wasn’t aware I’d be presented to the entire Lycan court tonight,” Saeris said through clenched teeth.

“Call it strategy,” he answered, “Sometimes it’s better to drop a stone in the pond than test the waters inch by inch.” Saeris could practically hear the smile in his voice.

They walked through the center of the hall. She didn’t stumble, not once, but she felt the weight of every step like a chain around her ankles.

Her mouth was dry.

“Try to relax.”

“I’d feel far more relaxed if you weren’t touching me,” she muttered.

He was close enough to smell— “Liar.”

She couldn't bring herself to care.

Kaan stood at the top of the dais, shadowed to the left. She hadn’t seen him until now, but the moment she did, Saeris knew he’d expected this.

At the foot of the dais, four ravishing women stood. Two on each side, dressed in deep garnet and pearl, hands folded, eyes down. A tradition? Except, her breath stilled and spine hooked straight when Vaelen’s fingers jumped to stroking her just above her hip.

He faced the crowd, and she felt the shift in his demeanor, a king about to address his subjects.

"At last. Tonight," his voice boomed through the hall without effort, "I present to you my mate, Saeris Windemere of Greenvale Pack."

Her heart stuttered violently, knocking into her ribs like it wanted to escape her. And maybe it should.

She didn’t look at him.

Not when the entire court had gone still—too still.

Frost edged along her spine. Her throat dried as the cold settled in her bones. She could practically taste the collective shock and outrage and bloodlust on her tongue. And through the sea of perfect, polished lycans, her gaze caught on a woman. Her hair was black as pitch, twisted into something soft and regal, too precise to be gentle. But her eyes… her eyes were the color of ice water.

No sneer or glare.

Just a look that stripped Saeris bare. As if she could see every flaw. Every secret. Every heartbeat Saeris thought she’d buried.

Saeris tore her gaze away.

“I—Your Majesty,” came a voice. “May I speak?”

“Chancellor Vexar,” Vaelen said to the man nearing the front, tone polite but distant. The hand at Saeris’s waist never stopped stroking. “You may speak.”

“Forgive me, but how are we to be certain she is truly your mate?” He looked like a decent subject. “You never mentioned it. And unless I’ve gone blind to bloodlines… the lady is no Lycan.”

A ripple passed through the court.

Saeris’ heart picked up speed. She'd known this would happen, but Vaelen was proving to be a radical, breaking traditions as easily as breathing.

“Are you questioning the mate bond, Chancellor Vexar?” His voice was lower now. And deadly.

“I—of course not, my King. I would never—”

“Then perhaps it is your senses that have dulled.” A pause. “Or perhaps you require more... persuasive evidence.”

No.

“Should I kiss her here?” Vaelen went on smoothly. “Would that be enough for you?”

No—

Saeris’s body tensed, shock rendering her motionless as one hand slid to the nape of her neck, pulled her in, and then his lips were crushing into hers. His tongue pried her mouth open, forcing himself into her, into the space that she’d believed belonged only to Flynn. Saeris’ mind flared and she was about to push, but he held firm, his tongue sweeping over the roof of her mouth, against her teeth, claiming her mouth, and—

And he was watching her. Even now. Through lowered lashes.

“Oi!”

The court gasped.

Someone choked out an oath.

And when Vaelen finally pulled back, leaving her lips tingling and raw and marked, he smiled.

“Does that satisfy the court’s curiosity?” he asked, voice lined with iron and pride. “Or shall I mark her in front of you all, Chancellor? Would that ease your suspicions?” He tilted his head. “Or is that too… primitive for your delicate sensibilities?”

The Chancellor paled so fast Saeris thought he might drop dead on the marble. “That—that won’t be necessary, Your Majesty.”

Saeris bit her tongue until she tasted blood.

She could’ve killed Vaelen. Right there. Could’ve clawed her way out of the dress, out of this court, and disappeared before the heat in her cheeks betrayed her. But she kept her mouth shut, even as she could have died from shame. And guilt.

Another, a curly ginger-haired man with more beards said, as if his own self-control slipped the leash, “Still, Your Majesty. The Luna Selection stands, as tradition dictates. I assume she’s only meant to… satisfy you.”

Those words.

That tone.

Saeris wanted to burn him. Vaelen probably felt it, because he said, with the kind of stillness that meant death was a breath away, “She is not here to satisfy me. She is my mate. She will be your Queen. Your traditions only hold when a mate is not found.” A pause, deliberate. “And I seem to recall ending the Luna Selection. Was my command ignored?”

The man faltered. His mouth opened then snapped shut like he’d just seen the gallows built with his name etched in gold.

“Good.”

Vaelen’s fingers resumed.

“Enjoy the feast,” he said. “All of you.”

They did.

And at the far end of the hall, by the towering entryway, a red-haired male leaned casually against the wall. Full-blooded Lycan, definitely. Mischief carved into every line of his grin.

“Was the kiss truly that unbearable?” Vaelen asked.

Saeris bit back the acidic retort forming on her tongue, forcing her face into a serene mask. “Get me out of here.”

His only response was a slow, wicked twitch of his lips..

“Grennar," Vaelen drawled, and that was all it took.

An older male approached, an eye patch covering his left eye. “Greetings, My King,” he said, his deep voice polished smooth. “And greetings to your mate.”

People were watching. Still. Even now. Their hands full of wine and meat and jewels, but their eyes… all on them.

“She is perfect, isn’t she?”

Grennar’s remaining eye landed on Saeris, and for one terrible moment, she wondered if he saw past the lie. But then he only dipped his head and said, “Indeed.”

Vaelen hummed lazily.

“Tell me,” he purred. “Has there ever been a wolf mated to a Lycan King?” A cat batting at its prey.