CHAPTER 3: The King Who Wouldn’t Let Go

Lyra woke to the sound of thunder. Not from the sky, but from the snarl shaking the walls.

Her eyes snapped open. What she saw made her frowned. Stone ceiling, velvet canopy. Embers glowing in a massive hearth. She sat upright, pulse racing.

She wasn’t in her village.

She wasn’t in the forest.

She was not home. 

This room was too grand, too cold, too dark.

Black stone. Silver banners. A bed big enough to swallow her whole.

A castle.

His castle.

Fear spiked, cold and sharp.

Before she could move, the snarl came again, closer this time, right outside the door. Heavy footsteps echoed like war drums.

The door slammed open and Ares filled the doorway.

Not dressed like a king.

Not armored.

Bare-chested, still half-shifted, muscles flexing as black fur streaked his arms and shoulders. His eyes, gods, his eyes were pure gold, no human warmth left.

He was breathing hard. As if he’d been running, as if he’d lost control, as if something had pushed him beyond the edge.

And then she realized. It was her waking that triggered it.

The mate bond snapped tight between them, pulling, dragging, demanding. Lyra felt it hit her chest like a fist. Her breath hitched.

Ares growled. He took one step inside, then another, feet silent despite his size. The door slammed shut behind him without him touching it.

“Lyra,” he said, voice ragged.

Lyra froze.

He stalked toward the bed, stopping only when his knees touched the mattress. He was shaking. Actually shaking. His claws half-formed at his fingertips.

He knew her name. He said it like he owned it.

Her voice came out small. “H-how… how do you know my name?”

Ares didn’t move for a moment, “I heard it,” he said simply, his voice rough, low.

“When the rogue tore you open, the villagers screamed your name into the forest.”

He leaned in, gold eyes catching the dim light. “And once I heard it…the bond carved it into me.”

A shiver ran through her, not from cold.

“You woke up,” he said, wacthing slowly as the expression on her pale beautiful face got even scared. 

“I-y-yes, I...” She stopped when he sat right before her. The bed sunk because of his weight. His eyes darkened further.

“You should have called for me.”

Lyra blinked. “I-I just woke up and I didn’t know where I was...”

“You’re in my keep,” Ares said, voice low and dangerous. “My territory. My den. There is no safer place for you.”

“It doesn’t feel safe,” she whispered.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, nostrils flaring. His eyes dropped to her exposed shoulder, where fresh bandages wrapped her wound.

Then something snapped inside him.

The mattress dipped violently as he leaned forward, hands braced on either side of her hips. His face inches from hers. His breath hot, shaking.

“You bled,” he growled, chest rising hard. “You bled, and I wasn’t there.”

Lyra swallowed. “I’m fine now.”

“No,” Ares snarled, teeth lengthening. “You are not fine. The scent of your pain is still on you.”

His hand lifted, hesitating a rare show of restraint before one claw gently brushed her bandaged shoulder. Lyra gasped.

His hands were hot. Burning. He shuddered at her reaction.

“Do you have any idea what it did to me,” he whispered harshly, “to feel your pulse flicker? To hear your breath weaken? To imagine...”

He cut himself off, jaw clenching hard enough that bone cracked.

“I almost shifted. Fully. In front of my generals. I almost lost myself because of you.”

Lyra’s breath trembled.

“I didn’t ask for this bond.”

His head snapped up, eyes blazing.

“Neither did I.”

A heavy silence fell.

Ares’s voice dropped to a low, deadly rumble.

“I didn’t want a mate. I didn’t want someone who could control me without trying. Someone whose pain could break me. Someone the Goddess forced into my life.”

Lyra flinched, but his hand cupped her jaw before she could look away.

Firm. Controlling. Hot.

“But here you are.”

His thumb traced her cheekbone.

A soft touch that contradicted the wild storm in his eyes.

“And now,” he breathed, “fate laughs at me.”

Lyra forced her voice steady. “Ares… let me go.”

His jaw flexed. His other hand slid to her waist, gripping it possessively.

“No.”

The word vibrated through her bones.

Lyra’s heart pounded. “You don’t even want a mate...”

He leaned closer, foreheads almost touching.

“You think that matters now?” he whispered, breath shaking. “You think wanting has anything to do with what I am?”

His voice cracked, deep and feral.

“When the Moon binds a Lycan, intention dies. Choice dies. There is only instinct.”

His fingers tightened at her waist.

“And mine says you stay.”

Her breath hitched when his nose brushed against her throat. Slow, reverent, tortured.

A low sound escaped him, half-growl, half-groan.

“Goddess…” he murmured, voice breaking. “Your scent is driving me insane.”

Lyra’s fingers twisted in the sheets.

“Ares...”

“Don’t say my name like that.”

His hand slid behind her waist, dragging her closer.

“You don’t know what it does to me.”

His lips hovered over her pulse point, close enough to burn.

He wasn’t kissing her, he wasn’t marking her. But the threat of both lingered like a blade’s edge.

“Tell me you’re not afraid,” he whispered, voice shaking with restraint he barely had.

Lyra hesitated first, but then, “I am,” she whispered honestly.

Ares’ breathing stopped.

Then, he exhaled softly, brushing his forehead against hers, closing his eyes.

“Good,” he said. “You should be.”

But his hand…

His hand at her waist softened, thumb stroking her side with gentle, protective, aching. But when she shifted, barely, just enough that her body brushed his, a sound escaped him.

Low. Feral.

Something he couldn’t swallow fast enough.

His hand slid to her hip, fingers spreading, anchoring her, drawing her closer by an inch he pretended he didn’t take.

"Don’t move like that," he breathed. "Not when I’m trying to behave."

Lyra closed her eyes, breath shaking, tried to hold herself as the mate bond pulling her also into him as strong as it is to him. 

She shook her head. 

“I will not hurt you,” he said quietly. “But I won’t let you go.”

Their breaths tangled.

“And if the world tries to take you…”

His eyes opened, molten and terrifying.

“I will burn it down.”

The door outside echoed with dist

ant footsteps. It could be guards, servants, perhaps a healer.

Ares didn’t look away from her.

“Let them knock,” he murmured, voice dark silk. “I’m not finished with you yet.”