I want you

DAPHNE

The velvet drapes of the four-poster bed were the color of freshly spilled blood, blocking out the pathetic Northern winter. I sat up, the heavy silk sheet slipping down my skin. the jagged remnants of the shredded mate bond. Tristan’s rejection felt like an anchor dragging in my chest, but the vomiting had finally stopped.

I looked at the bedside table. A heavy, dark emerald-green velvet dress had been left for me. It was aggressively tailored with a low, square neckline and a thick leather corset belt designed to frame a full figure rather than compress it.

I pulled it on, the plush fabric instantly clinging to my wide hips and full thighs. In the Crescent Dawn pack, the elders had spent three years trying to starve me into the template of an agile frontline runner. Tristan used to look at my waist with an exhausting, silent disappointment every time I reached for a meal.

I left the chambers, my boots clicking sharply against the cold obsidian floors. The air grew warmer the closer I got to the grand hall, thick with the scent of roasted meat, sharp spices, and the heavy, intoxicating undercurrent of cedar and rain.

Malakai was already there. He sat at the head of a massive, dark wood table, entirely alone. The high-backed chair looked small behind his seven-foot frame. He wore a black sleeveless top that showed off his massive, hyper-muscular shoulders and the dense tribal ink covering his arms and wrapping up the column of his throat.

The table before him was loaded with enough food to feed an entire vanguard—roasted game, thick bread, and decanters of rich wine.

His eyes locked onto me the exact microsecond my boot crossed the threshold. The pitch-black obsidian of his gaze didn't just look; it anchored straight to my face, heavy, unblinking, and dangerously territorial.

"Sit," Malakai said. The word was a low, gravelly command that skipped straight down my spine. He didn't rise, but the predatory tilt of his jaw completely dominated the space.

I walked over, purposefully choosing a seat three chairs down to keep a safe perimeter between us.

Malakai’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing a dangerous, volatile amber. "I said sit." He reached out, gripped the heavy wooden chair directly next to his, and ripped it back. The wood scraped violently against the stone floor. "Right here, Daphne. My wolf doesn't tolerate you being out of arm's reach."

I didn't argue. The closer I got to him, the less my chest ached from the broken bond. The moment I sat, the heat radiating off his massive frame completely cut through the chill of the Northern air.

He picked up a silver carving knife, sliced off a thick piece of roasted meat, and dropped it onto a gold-rimmed plate. He didn't just push it toward me; he placed it so close our knuckles brushed. The friction sent a jolt of raw heat straight up my arm.

"Eat," he commanded, his eyes tracking the line of my collarbone, then dropping to the full, heavy curve of my chest beneath the green velvet.

I looked at the portion, then up at him, one eyebrow arched. "Is this a test, Malakai? Or are you just incapable of speaking without barking orders?"

"It's a mandate," he said, his voice dropping an octave, thick and possessive. "Your ex-mate is a pathetic boy who wanted a ghost for a Luna. I don't rule over ghosts, and I don't let what belongs to me wither away. Eat until you are full. Every single inch of you belongs to the North now. Which means every inch of you belongs to me."

"I managed the entire global infrastructure of the south," I countered, cutting a piece of the meat with deliberate precision. "I don't need a tyrant's permission to feed myself."

"Then do it. I want to see you take what you need." His massive, heavily inked hand slid across the table, his fingers sprawling wide right next to my thigh. He wasn't touching me yet, but the intent was suffocating. "I want you fueled, Daphne. Because when we break Tristan, I want you standing high enough to watch him realize exactly what he lost."

Before I could reply, the heavy iron doors groaned open. High Elder Garrow strode in, his graying hair pulled back, his face a sour mask of traditionalist pride. Two commanders followed a step behind him.

Garrow stopped ten feet from the table, his eyes raking over my low-cut dress, my wide hips, and the plate of food. A sneer curled his upper lip. "Alpha. The border reports are ready. But I see you are still letting the southern stray occupy the high table. A woman of her… excessive proportions belongs in the logistics sector, not sitting next to the King during a war council. She doesn't have the build of a Northern warrior."

The silence that followed was instantaneous and absolute. The air in the room grew heavy, the atmospheric pressure dropping so fast my ears popped.

I didn't move. I slowly set my fork down, ready to tear Garrow’s operational authority apart with a single sentence about his failing sector budgets.

But I didn't get the chance.

Malakai didn't stand up. He didn't shout. With a casual, terrifyingly lazy movement, his hand shot out, grabbed the silver carving knife from the table, and flicked his wrist.

A sharp, sickening thunk echoed through the hall.

Garrow let out a sudden, strangled shriek. The silver knife was vibrating, driven straight through the palm of Garrow’s right hand, pinning his flesh securely to the heavy wooden pillar behind him. Dark blood began to pool rapidly down the grain of the wood.

The two commanders instantly reached for their hilts, but Malakai subtly bared his fangs, a low, lethal rattle starting in his chest. The commanders froze, their faces turning translucent as they slowly dropped their hands away from their weapons.

Malakai never even looked at Garrow. His eyes remained locked entirely on me, tracking my reaction.

"I believe I gave an explicit order yesterday," Malakai said, his tone terrifyingly level, almost conversational. "Anyone who looks at her with anything less than absolute worship bleeds. You're lucky I aimed for your hand, Garrow. Next time, I take the tongue that dared speak about her body."

Garrow gripped his own pinned wrist, his face twisted in agony. "Alpha… she is a liability—"

"She is the absolute law of this territory," Malakai growled, the dark amber completely bleeding into his black irises, his wolf pushing hard against the surface. "Get out of my sight before I change my mind about letting you breathe my air."

The two commanders quickly stepped forward, carefully working the knife out of the wood to free Garrow's bleeding hand, and dragged the old elder out of the hall. The heavy iron doors slammed shut behind them.

I leaned back in my chair, looking at the blood smear left on the pillar, then turned to look at the monster sitting next to me. The raw, violent display should have horrified me. Instead, a dark, pulsing heat flared deep in the pit of my stomach.

"You're completely unhinged," I whispered, my voice dropping. "He's your high elder."

"He's a dead man if he ever looks at you like that again," Malakai said, turning his massive body fully toward me. He leaned in so close his scent of wet pine and cedar completely enveloped my senses.

He didn't ask for permission. His large, rough hand shot out, his fingers wrapping firmly around my wrist, his thumb pressing directly against my frantic pulse point. His skin was scorching hot.

"Did Tristan let them talk to you like that?" he demanded, his eyes burning into mine.

I swallowed, the intense physical friction making my breath hitch. "Tristan agreed with them. He told me it was a public relations issue. He wanted me to look like the women on the billboards."

Malakai let out a dark, savage growl, his grip tightening just enough to let me feel the terrifying depth of his strength. He pulled my wrist forward, forcing my hand onto his chest, right over his beating heart.

"Tristan is a pathetic coward who wanted a doll he could control," Malakai whispered, his face inches from mine, his breath hot against my lips. "I don't want a doll. I want you. Every voluptuous, soft, lethal inch of you. You are mine now, Daphne. Your mind, your body, your vengeance I own all of it. Eat your food. Then we go to the war room, and you tell me exactly how you want me to tear him apart."