Chapter 5

Malric’s Pov

Lying lifeless is not as peaceful as one might imagine.

There was pain which was a dull and relentless pain but no means to show it. I existed in a limbo of suffering, somewhere between life and death, until a voice shattered the silence. A touch broke the stillness. A woman.

Delilah.

The same woman I watched walk straight into a trap without hesitation. The same woman who looked at me as if I were something more than a cursed, broken beast. She pulled me out. Not with brute strength, but with her stubbornness. Her fire. Her scent.

I felt it before I saw her.

And when I did see her stumbling around my chambers with bowls of strange herbs and infusions—I found myself staring. Staring in ways I hadn’t in over a century.

She was dangerous.

Beautiful things always are.

I had never been captivated by anyone. I was not built for captivation. I was built for war, for command, for silence. I would not be the one to fall. Not for her. Especially not for her.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Seraphine’s voice pulled me from the dark spiral of thoughts.

I blinked and turned toward her, the Moon Goddess sitting across from me like she owned the world and maybe she did.

“Yes,” I said coolly.

“Then what was the last thing I said?” she challenged.

“The same thing you always say,” I murmured, folding my arms. “That I should come out more. Talk to the boy.”

Seraphine’s gaze didn’t waver. “Because he’s not just some boy. He’s your son now, whether by birth or blood bond. You’ve both been marked. You share the same blood. He may not have come from you, but he's yours now.”

“I didn’t ask for that,” I replied, voice like ice. “And when I’m ready to act like he matters, I will.”

She exhaled slowly, then stood. Her long silver gown brushed the floor as she made her way toward the door.

“I’ll see you later,” she said over her shoulder.

But before the door could close behind her, it opened again.

Talk of the devil.

Delilah stepped in with another bowl of herbs. Her timing was as irritating as it was perfect. She had a habit of walking in just when my walls were beginning to crack.

She looked… dangerous.

The dress she wore clung to her like a sin. Whoever made it clearly didn’t believe in modesty. The neckline plunged, revealing the curve of her breasts—plump, soft, enticing. Her scent drifted into the room before she spoke, floral and wild, like she had bathed in temptation itself.

Seraphine shot her a look. Delilah only smiled and nodded in greeting, then waited for her to leave.

The door shut.

Delilah turned to me, her voice light. “Time for your medicine.”

She walked toward me slowly, hips swaying like she knew the effect she had and maybe she did. The bowl was warm in her hands as she knelt beside me, close enough for her scent to sink into my skin.

I didn’t even bother to hide the way my eyes dropped.

Her breasts were right there.

Full. Tempting. Forbidden.

What the hell was wrong with me?

She sat opposite me, waiting for me to take the bowl. I did, swallowing the bitter liquid without complaint. I was starting to feel better and stronger. Whatever concoction she kept feeding me was working. She was working.

I should’ve thanked her.

Instead, I asked, “What’s your purpose here?”

Delilah blinked, caught off guard. “To help you feel better,” she answered cautiously.

“And what else?”

Her lips curved. “Do you want there to be something else?”

I leaned forward, letting my eyes linger where they shouldn’t. Her breath hitched.

“Looks like it.”

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” she whispered, her voice low and soft. Even dangerous.

Or maybe it was just the way my name sounded on her tongue, the way her lips curved with each word. I stared at them, unable to tear my eyes away. My wolf Drekkar wasn’t helping either he was still, attentive, watching her just as much as I was. We were both caught, like prey in her trap.

“I want you to know one thing,” she added, stepping just a little closer.

I didn’t move.

Her voice dipped again, a ghost of a sound. “I’ll do anything to make you feel better… because that’s what I was paid to do.”

Anything.

I echoed that word in my mind. Over and over. It wrapped around my thoughts, strangled reason.

“Anything?” I asked, my voice suddenly rough.

She nodded, barely a whisper. “Anything.”

Then she stood.

“I’ll see you later, Malric.”

She turned to leave.

“Delilah.”

Her name slipped past my lips before I could stop it.

She paused, turned halfway, eyes catching mine.

My wolf clawed inside me, warning me to back off, to stop whatever was about to happen. But I didn’t listen.

I couldn’t.

Something stronger than instinct moved through me, need? Obsession? Madness?

I stood. Walked toward her. The scent of her hit me like a drug. It was intoxicating, sweet and wild, with a hidden bite beneath it.

She didn't move as I stepped into her space.

“What are you doing, Malric?” she asked, her voice feather-light, teasing.

“What did you do to me?” I growled, not truly angry—just confused. Ravaged. Shaken.

“You said you’d do anything to make me feel better,” I said.

“Yes,” she replied, holding my gaze, calm and unreadable.

“Then will you do what I ask of you?”

She tilted her head. “Depends on what you want, Malric.”

I didn’t blink. “Kneel for me.”

The words left my mouth like a curse. I couldn’t believe I said them. Who was I becoming?

I wanted to drag my words back. My wolf was howling now, raging, demanding I stop.

But I didn’t.

And she didn’t say a word.

Instead…

She got on her knees.