Chapter 5: The Spark of the Bond

Thalia’s POV

​The water in the copper tub was scalding hot, but it did nothing to wash away the phantom feeling of Lysander’s hands on my skin.

​I sat submerged up to my shoulders, scrubbing the dried mud and Vance's scent off my arms until the skin turned raw and bright pink. Two Lycan maids had brought me the water and a simple, emerald-green silk tunic, but they hadn't spoken a single word. They had looked at me with wide, terrified eyes before scurrying out of the room, locking the heavy oak door behind them.

​I was a prisoner. A luxury prisoner, but a prisoner nonetheless.

​I leaned my head against the rim of the tub, staring at the flickering fire in the hearth. My mind raced through the timeline of my past life. In that timeline, right about now, Vance would be comforting me after a grueling pack meeting, pretending he was fighting the elders for our love. He would be feeding me sweet promises while Elena sneaked into his bed.

​A bitter, cold laugh escaped my lips. Let them celebrate my escape. Let Vance think I ran away because I was a weak, heartbroken human. The longer he underestimated me, the easier it would be to slit his throat when the time came.

​Suddenly, the lock on the door clicked.

​I snapped out of my thoughts, my muscles instantly tensing as I submerged myself deeper into the water. The heavy door swung open, and Lysander stepped into the room.

​He had changed into a simple black tunic, V-necked and loose, revealing the hard planes of his collarbones and the dark hair dusting his upper chest. He didn't look like a king right now; he looked like a beautiful, lethal predator invading my private sanctuary.

​"Get out," I said, my voice sharp as I glared at him through the steam. "I am in the bath."

​Lysander didn't stop. He walked over to the edge of the tub, his heavy boots clicking rhythmically against the stone floor. He held a small, silver tray containing a glass of dark red wine and a plate of roasted meat. He placed the tray on a small table nearby, then knelt down by the side of the tub, bringing himself to my eye level.

​"This is my castle, Thalia," he said, his voice a smooth, dangerous purr. "There is not a single corner of this stone that does not belong to me. Including you."

​"I am an ally, not your property," I snapped, splashing the water slightly as I shifted away from him.

​"An ally has to prove her worth first," Lysander replied. He reached out, his large, calloused hand dipping into the warm water.

​The moment his fingers brushed against the bare skin of my shoulder, a violent jolt of electricity tore through the water. I gasped, my back arching instinctively as a wave of intense, blinding heat shot straight down to my core. The mate bond flared like a wildfire, turning the water around us suffocatingly hot.

​Lysander let out a low, guttural grunt, his silver eyes instantly blowing wide, the pupils swallowing the silver until they were pitch-black with primal lust. His hand locked onto my shoulder, gripping me firmly as he pulled me closer to the edge of the tub.

​"Look at what you do to me," Lysander growled, his breath hot against my damp face. "My wolf is clawing at the surface, Thalia. He wants to tear this tub apart and pin you to the floor. He wants to mark you until you smell of nothing but me."

​"Then fight your wolf, King Lysander," I whispered, my heart hammering like a trapped bird as I stared back into his dark, obsessed gaze. The pull was intoxicating. Every molecule of my body wanted to surrender to him, to let his large hands explore every inch of my wet skin. "I am not a prize to be claimed. I am a weapon. If you break me before we get to Vance, you lose your war."

​Lysander’s gaze dropped to my wet lips, his chest heaving with a heavy, ragged breath. The sexual tension in the room was so thick it felt like a physical weight crushing us both. He was a king, a god-like Lycan who had never been denied anything in his life. Yet, here he was, trembling with restraint under the gaze of a packless human girl.

​Slowly, deliberately, Lysander leaned down, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin just below my ear. A fierce shiver ran through my entire body as his sharp fangs grazed my skin, teasing the pulse point that throbbed wildly beneath his touch.

​"You think you're safe because you're a weapon?" Lysander murmured, his voice sending a wave of delicious terror straight to my womb. "A weapon belongs to the hand that wields it, Thalia. And I have no intention of letting anyone else touch you."

​He pulled back, his eyes slowly returning to their piercing silver color. He stood up, looking down at me with a dark, satisfied smirk that told me he knew exactly how much power he held over my body.

​"Eat the food," he commanded, stepping back toward the door. "My commanders are ready. We march to the eastern ridge at dawn. If your information is correct, Vance will lose his first supply line tomorrow. And you will take your first step into my world."

​The door slammed shut behind him, the heavy lock clicking back into place.

​I collapsed against the side of the tub, my body trembling, my skin still burning from the electrical sparks of his touch. I looked at the red wine on the table, my breathing slowly turning steady as the cold rage returned to my mind.

​The game had officially begun. Vance was about to bleed, and Lysander... Lysander was becoming a beautiful, terrifying addiction I wasn't sure I could survive.