Chapter 13: Amelia

His hand wrapped around my throat before I could process what was happening. Not tight enough to restrict my breathing, just firm enough to establish control, to remind me of my position—prey caught in the grasp of the apex predator. My pulse hammered against his palm as he leaned close, his breath hot against my ear, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through my body like distant thunder.

"I, Alpha King Lukas Volkov, claim you, Amelia Blackwood, as my mate and Queen."

The formal words of the claiming ritual fell from his lips with casual ownership, as if my consent were irrelevant, a mere formality in this transaction. His thumb traced small circles against my carotid artery, a deceptively gentle gesture from hands I'd watched tear men apart less than an hour ago.

"You don't even know me," I whispered, the words escaping before I could stop them. The mate bond pulsed between us, new and insistent, trying to override my fear with a chemical compulsion to submit, to accept, to yield to the inevitable.

His lips curved in a smile I felt rather than saw, his face too close to mine for proper vision. "I know enough," he replied, tightening his grip fractionally. "Say it back, little luna."

Athena stirred within me, her presence strengthening as the wolfsbane continued to fade from my system. She didn't fight the claiming—if anything, she leaned into it, recognizing Lukas and his wolf Ares as our destined partners despite the horrific circumstances of our meeting. Her acceptance of what was happening only heightened my terror.

"I can't," I managed, though the words felt like glass in my throat.

His grip tightened just enough to make my breath hitch. "You can and you will. The words, Amelia. Now."

I closed my eyes, tears burning behind my lids. From servant to claimed mate of the Alpha King in the space of three days—or nine, if I believed him about the date. Either way, my fate was being decided for me yet again, my agency an illusion offered only to be stripped away.

"I, Amelia Blackwood..." My voice emerged low and trembling, terror making each syllable waver. "Claim you, Alpha King Lukas Volkov, as my mate."

Something shifted in the air between us as I spoke the ritual words, the mate bond solidifying, taking root deeper within me. I gasped at the sensation, a warmth spreading outward from my chest even as my mind recoiled in horror at what I'd just done, what I'd just committed to.

"Good girl, little luna," he murmured, his approval sending an unwanted shiver down my spine.

Before I could process what was happening, he moved with inhuman speed. One moment I was sitting in the chair; the next, I was pressed face-first against the cold stone wall of his office, his body a wall of heat against my back. His hand still circled my throat from behind, the other gripping my hip with bruising force. I could feel every inch of him, the hard planes of his chest, the powerful thighs boxing me in, the unmistakable evidence of his arousal pressed against me.

"You're mine, Amelia," he growled, his mouth hot against the sensitive juncture where my neck met my shoulder. My marking spot—the place where his bite would create a permanent bond, more binding than the verbal claiming, impossible to break or reject.

I tried to twist away, panic giving me strength I didn't know I had, but he simply pressed harder against me, immobilizing me with his superior strength. "Please," I gasped, though I wasn't sure what I was begging for—mercy? Gentleness? A reprieve from the inevitable?

He answered by sinking his canines into my flesh, breaking skin with brutal efficiency. Pain exploded through me, so intense that my vision went white at the edges. I cried out, the sound echoing in the stone room as his teeth broke through muscle, marking me to the bone.

Then the pain transformed, alchemizing into something else entirely—a pleasure so acute it bordered on agony. The marking bond flared to life, intertwining with the mate bond, creating a connection that bypassed reason and resistance. I felt him in my blood, in my bones, in places no physical touch could reach. My wolf howled in triumph, while my human side trembled in terror.

He held the bite for what felt like eternity, his tongue laving over the wound as he finally withdrew his teeth. Blood—my blood—stained his lips when he turned me to face him, his blue eyes now dominated by Ares's gold. His arousal pressed hard against me, impossible to ignore.

He chuckled at my wide-eyed fear, one hand coming up to stroke my cheek with incongruous gentleness. "Don't worry, little luna. I won't mate you here," he said, the words offering cold comfort. "That's for after the ball."

My heart stuttered. "Ball?"

"The mating ball, scheduled for this very evening. Ironic, isn't it?" His smile held no humour. "They arranged it hoping I would find a suitable mate among the eligible wolves of the realm. Little did they know fate had already chosen for me."

His mouth moved to my ear, his breath sending unwelcome shivers through me. "I know you're a virgin," he whispered, the words like ice down my spine. "I can smell your fear... your innocence." His teeth grazed my earlobe. "I'll be gentle. But believe me when I say that tonight, the kingdom will hear their Queen submit to her King."

The crude promise made me flinch, but I had nowhere to retreat with the wall at my back and his body caging me in. Whatever gentle mating fantasy I might have harbored as a girl died in that moment, replaced by the cold reality of what awaited me—ownership, not partnership.

Lukas stepped back suddenly, leaving me cold and shaking against the wall. He moved to the door, opening it with a casual authority that assumed immediate compliance.

"Elder Nora," he called, his voice perfectly composed as if he hadn't just forced a life-altering bond on an unwilling woman. "Take Amelia to a guest room. See that she receives food, medical attention, a bath, and preparation for tonight's ball."

The ancient woman appeared in the doorway, her eyes quickly taking in my trembling form, the fresh mark on my neck, the tears I couldn't seem to stop. One silver eyebrow rose slightly, but a single look from Lukas silenced whatever objection she might have voiced.

"Of course, my King," she said with a bow, her expression carefully neutral.

Lukas strode back to me, grasping my chin between his thumb and forefinger. "I'll see you at the ball, little luna," he murmured, his lips brushing mine in a mockery of tenderness. "Don't disappoint me."

Then he released me, turning away as if dismissing something inconsequential. Elder Nora took my arm, her grip surprisingly gentle as she led me from the room that had witnessed my claiming—and the death of whatever freedom I might have briefly tasted.