Chapter Four

Dylan caught Liliene effortlessly as her consciousness slipped away, pulling her limp, fragile body flush against his chest. The bite on her neck gleamed under the dim amber light of the chamber, the fresh crimson mark pulsing with the supernatural energy of their bond. She was his. The profound sense of accomplishment settled deep into his bones, soothing the restless, predatory beast beneath his skin.

He lifted her gently, carrying her over to the velvet-draped bed. Laying her down with the utmost care, he sat on the edge of the mattress near her head, his large hand rhythmically smoothing back her damp, chestnut hair.

"I’ve waited three years to finally claim you, Liliene," he murmured into the quiet room, his deep voice thick with a vulnerability he would never dare show her while she was awake. "I don't know what lies ahead for us in the days and years to come. My father and the Seer believe you are the key to saving me from the Grotesques, but I swear to you—even if that prophecy didn't exist, you would still be mine. The moment I saw you, I knew you were right for me."

Three years ago, his world had been upended by a dark prophecy. His pack's Seer had foreseen a catastrophic war against the soul-eating Grotesques, culminating in his own death—unless he was saved by the daughter of Irithel Albrecht, a legendary wolf blessed with rare mind-control abilities. His investigation had led him to a dead mother and a grieving girl trapped in a house of tyrants. When her father refused his marriage proposal, Dylan had waited, watching from the shadows like a hawk guarding its prize. And when death finally claimed the father, Dylan had seized the opening, orchestrating her stepmother's greed to bring her straight to his door.

In those three years of watching her from afar, his obsession had bloomed into a deep, genuine fascination. She was the only woman who had ever truly mattered to him.

A soft rustling pulled him from his thoughts. Liliene’s eyelids fluttered, her dark eyes blinking open. Instantly, her hand flew to her neck, fingers brushing over the tender, burning mark of his bite.

"Does it still hurt?" Dylan asked, his voice softening with immediate concern. "I am sorry for rushing you into this."

At the sound of his deep voice, Liliene jolted upright, scrambling back against the headboard. Her body trembled, the residual fear of a captive trapped in a new cage. When he reached out to comfort her, she instinctively flinched, pulling her hands into her lap and dropping her gaze, unable to meet his eyes.

Dylan’s chest tightened with a heavy sigh. He stood up, taking a few paces away and turning his back to her to give her space. He hated the invisible wall of fear between them.

"You can leave if you wish," he said, his shoulders slumping, heavy-hearted. "We can resume this when you are truly ready. The marking is done; you are safe here." Even though every instinct in his body screamed to claim her completely, he forced himself to respect her boundaries. He wanted her choice, not her terror.

"M-Mr. Walton," she whispered, her voice shaking violently.

He didn't turn around, squeezing his eyes shut. "Please. I am releasing you from the pressure of tonight. Do not make this harder than it already is."

"I am choosing to stay."

Dylan froze. He turned back around slowly.

Liliene was looking at him, her hands still tightly clasped in her lap, but her voice carried a quiet, undeniable resolve. "You already marked me as your Luna. I am not afraid to see this through. You purchased me, and I have nowhere else to go. I might as well be obedient to your plans."

Dylan frowned, stunned by her sudden shift from timid captive to a soldier offering up her life. "Are you really sure about that?" he asked, stepping closer. "You speak to me like a warrior preparing for sacrifice. Do you feel so threatened in my presence?"

She didn't answer right away, staring down at her fingers. The silence stretched between them, heavy with years of conditioning from a life that had taught her to expect punishment for existing.

Dylan exhaled heavily, running a hand over his face. "I forced this on you tonight. The full moon, my own impatience... I clouded your choices, Liliene. I shouldn't have—"

Before he could finish, Liliene stopped playing with her fingers. She lifted her head, rising from the bed and stepping a meter away from him.

Then, the unpredictable happened.

With shaking, desperate hands, she grabbed the delicate petal sleeves of her white dress and pulled. With a sharp rip of tearing silk, the entire bodice gave way. The expensive gown pooled at her feet in a heap, leaving her completely exposed beneath the moonlight.

Dylan’s breath caught violently in his throat. His heart slammed against his ribs like a war drum.

"Y-You were naked underneath?" the words tumbled out of his mouth before his brain could intercept them. Smooth, Alpha. He cursed inwardly, trying to recover. "I mean... you continue to surprise me, Liliene."

"Yes, I was naked, Mr. Walton," she replied steadily, her chin lifting as she took a slow, deliberate step toward him. "I wanted to be prepared. Didn't your staff brief me on what this night required? I am not a fool; I know what is expected of me."

Dylan swallowed hard. Beads of sweat formed at his temples. Every single muscle in his body locked tight. How is a man supposed to resist this?

"L-Liliene, stop," he breathed, stepping forward and extending his hands to halt her advance.

Instead, she walked right into his reach. His large palms accidentally brushed directly against her round, heavy bre*sts.

"F*ck," Dylan groaned aloud, a jolt of pure lightning shooting through his groin. Her skin was satin-smooth, the plump mounds fitting perfectly into his hands, the taut pink peaks hardening instantly against his palms. The sheer, intoxicating reality of her sent a violent shockwave of desire straight to his core.

Liliene looked up at him, her expression hauntingly innocent. "Are you just going to stand there, Mr. Walton? I thought we were going to mate." She tilted her head, her voice carrying a naive, breathtaking sincerity. "I know this will be my first time, but... you are going to make it quick, right? I can endure—"

He cut her off, his control finally snapping.

Dropping his hands from her chest, he cupped her face, pulling her up onto her tiptoes. His lips crashed down onto hers with a hungry, desperate urgency.

It wasn't gentle at first, but it was electric. Liliene gasped softly into the kiss, her hands coming up to grip his wrists, anchoring herself to him. As he deepened it, his tongue sweeping past her parted lips to taste the sweet heat within, she melted. The initial hesitation dissolved, replaced by a raw, instinctive hunger as she clumsily, beautifully tried to follow his lead.

Dylan’s hand slid down to the back of her neck, tangling in her hair to tilt her head further, while his other hand dropped to cup and shape the fullness of her bre*st, his thumb sweeping over her sensitive peak. A soft, breathless moan slipped from Liliene’s lips, and she pressed her entire body flush against his hard frame, surrendering every inch of herself to him.

When they finally broke apart for air, their chests heaving, Dylan stared down into her wide, yearning eyes.

"You only met me tonight," he rasped, his voice rough with need. "I never expected you to offer yourself to me with such absolute faith."

Liliene closed her eyes for a fraction of a second, leaning her cheek deeper into his palm. "The way your staff spoke of you... the way they respect you. That is what I am holding onto. Giving this a chance... with you... it isn't difficult."

Dylan smiled, a rare, tender expression crossing his harsh features. "You are remarkably vocal for someone who spent her whole life silenced. Thank you for trusting me, Liliene."

"I am your Luna now," she whispered, opening her eyes to lock them with his. "We have all the time in the world."

"I want your first time to be pure bliss, Liliene," he warned, his voice dropping to a dark, velvet register. "Even so... I cannot promise it won't hurt."

She nodded, a brave, calm smile gracing her lips. "I know. I will be good. I'll endure the pain for you."

Hearing her speak of endurance like a dutiful servant grated against his soul, but before he could dwell on it, a dark, playful smirk curved his lips. He slid his hands down, gripping the backs of her thighs and effortlessly lifting her into the air.

Liliene squealed in surprise, a bright, genuine giggle escaping her as her legs automatically wrapped around his waist and her arms locked tightly around his neck.

"You should get used to this, my Luna," Dylan growled softly, brushing the tip of his nose against hers. Then, his brow furrowed playfully. "And you need to realize just how utterly wicked you are. Do you have any idea how hard you've made this for me, standing there completely naked?"

Her eyes widened in sudden, adorable panic. "Oh no. I-I am sorry, Mr. Walton! Please forgive me, I had no decency—" She tried to wiggle out of his grip, but his hold on her thighs only tightened, locking her securely against his hips. "I won't do it again if it makes you angry!"

Dylan let out a low chuckle that rumbled straight through his chest. "Liliene, look at me. I am not angry. Not in the least." He pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, guiding her chin up so she had to look into his blazing eyes. "I am a man, and you are my woman. I intend to spend the rest of my life watching you undress for me."

Her flushed cheeks burned a deeper crimson, her breath hitching as his lips descended once more. This time, the kiss was a slow burn, a decadent dance of tongues and velvet heat that drove every coherent thought from their minds. Her soft, breathless whimpers echoed in the dark chamber, acting as the sweetest symphony to his soul as he carried her toward the velvet bed, ready to claim what was entirely, eternally his.