Chapter 11

Malric’s Pov

Today’s hunt was a disaster. I’ve never hunted this badly in my entire existence. Every strike, every chase, every snap of the bone — all of it off. My body was here, but my mind… gods, my mind was somewhere else.

No.

My mind was on her.

Delilah.

It has been three days since that night. Three days since her lips wrapped around me, since her scent clung to my skin like a curse. Three days of pretending we were avoiding each other when every inch of me screamed for her. I told myself I was in control. That I was above this. But the truth?

I’m not.

Even the thought of her sends my blood pounding, heat rushing through me like wildfire. And now, walking back to my chambers, I can already feel myself hardening just from remembering her mouth, soft, wet, and perfect taking me like she was born to.

I curse under my breath and force my stride to remain steady, my golden aura shimmering faintly as my wolf stirs restlessly beneath my skin. I’m losing control, and that has never happened before.

Then her scent hits me.

Faint but lingering, clinging to the walls, the air, the shadows. Her room is right there. My jaw tightens, claws itching to tear through the thin door, drag her out, and bury myself inside her until there’s no part of her that doesn’t belong to me.

But I can’t.

Because the moment I take her, I won’t stop. I know myself too well. She’ll break beneath me, and I… gods, I’ll ruin her.

That’s why I’ve been holding back. That’s why I brought them here.

Two wolves. Strong, beautiful, experienced. They were supposed to help me forget her.

When I open my door, they’re already waiting — sprawled across my bed in thin silk robes that barely cover anything. One’s robe has slipped enough to expose the curve of her breast, soft and pale, tempting. They giggle when they see me, slinking closer with practiced grace.

Their hands are on me immediately, roaming over my chest, down my stomach, bold and eager. One leans in, lips parting, but I growl low in my throat.

“No kissing.”

They exchange quick glances and nod, murmuring apologies, but their hands never stop moving. They guide me to the bed, robes falling away, skin pressed against mine. Fingers graze over my abs, lower, lower, until one of them hooks into the waistband of my undergarments and pulls them down.

Both gasp.

I ignore them.

Because even as their hands wrap around me, even as their mouths hover close, none of it touches me. None of it feels.

All I can think about is Delilah.

Delilah on her knees. Delilah’s soft lips. Delilah’s breath hitching when I called her pet. Delilah’s stubborn eyes daring me even as she obeyed.

It’s her image that finally drags a groan from my throat, her name that burns on the edge of my tongue.

And then—

A knock.

Sharp. Sudden. Too late to sense it before it came.

The door opens.

And there she is.

Delilah.

She freezes in the doorway, her gaze sweeping over me, over the two women draped across my body. No emotion shows on her face. None. That somehow makes it worse.

For a heartbeat, I think she’ll storm off, slam the door, scream. But she doesn’t.

Instead, she steps inside. Graceful. Controlled. Deadly. There’s something clenched in her hand, a small vial of shimmering liquid, her potion, her medicine and she sets it on the table without a word.

Then she turns to me.

“This is your medicine ,” she says flatly. “This is the last day I’m going to take it. You’ll feel much better now. Thanks. It was nice working with you.”

She looks at the wolves still touching me. Her lips twitch slightly…not a smile, not anger, something colder.

Then she says, quiet but sharp, “I’ll be on my way now.”

My chest tightens. “Be on your way… to where?”

She meets my gaze for the first time, unflinching. “To where I came from, Malric.”

And before I can speak again, she bows her head slightly, turns, and walks out.

The door clicks shut behind her.

And for the first time in centuries, I’m left sitting on my bed, naked, hard, furious — with two women at my sides who mean nothing.

I laid there, breathing hard, my claws digging into my palms as the two wolves dared to get back to their filthy business as if I wasn’t even there. My vision blurred red.

“Leave.” My voice came out low, deadly.

They froze.

When no one moved, I snapped my gaze up and let my power seep into my tone, darker, sharper. “I said, leave.”

They scrambled like frightened pups, dragging their robes over bare skin, practically tripping over themselves as they ran out of the room. Cowards.

I exhaled slowly, trying to pull myself back together, but my chest was tight, my skin burning from the inside out. I dressed quickly, fingers pulling at the clasps of my tunic with more force than necessary. My mind wasn’t on them anymore.

It was on her.

Why the hell had she left like that?

She wasn’t supposed to go anywhere. Not after what happened. Not after… that.

I strode down the hall, each step heavier, faster, sharper. My body already knew where I was going before my mind caught up. By the time I reached her room, my breath came ragged. I shoved the door open.

Empty.

My gaze darted around wildly, the bed was untouched, her scent faint but lingering, haunting me. My chest constricted when I noticed the wardrobe doors slightly ajar. I stepped closer.

Her clothes were gone.

No.

I tore through the room, yanking open drawers, checking every corner, every inch, but it was useless. She had packed. She had already decided. She’d planned this.

A sound outside caught my attention, the restless neighing of horses, the crunch of carriage wheels over gravel.

I moved to the window, my heartbeat a thunderstorm in my ears.

And there she was.

Delilah stood by the carriage, her back half-turned, her hair catching the sunlight like fire. She hesitated for just a second, and then—she turned.

Our eyes locked.

And in that one silent moment, the world stilled.

She knew.

I knew.

Neither of us moved.

Then she turned away, stepping into the carriage without a word.

I could’ve stopped her. I could’ve stormed down there, grabbed her wrist, dragged her back where she belonged—

But… belonged?

To me?

No.

No, she didn’t. She wasn’t mine. She wasn’t anyone’s.

I should let her go.

…Or maybe not.