The kings Tithe

"Take that dress off before I rip it off you."

Killian didn’t even turn around to look at me. He was standing by the window, his chest heaving as though he’d just run a marathon. The room felt like a pressure cooker, the air so thick I could almost taste blood.

My fingers were shaking as I reached for the zipper. "I’m trying. It’s stuck."

He was behind me in a flash. He grabbed the fabric at the top of my spine and hauled. The sound of that expensive silk tearing down the middle was loud as a gunshot in the quiet suite. I scrambled to hold the front of the dress against my chest as it fell away, leaving me standing there in just my underwear, exposed and shivering.

"You think I’m the one you should be afraid of?" Killian hissed, his voice dropping into a low, terrifying growl. He stepped around me, his eyes glowing like two gold coins in the dark. "Look at your stomach, Vespera. Look at what you’re carrying."

I looked down. My skin was pulsing. Underneath my navel, a silver light was throbbed in time with my heartbeat, but faster. It wasn't a gentle glow; it was jagged. Then, the baby moved. It wasn't a kick. It was a violent, heavy shove that made me gasp and grab the edge of the dresser to stay upright.

"It's only five weeks," I whispered, the terror finally hitting my throat. "It shouldn't be moving like this. It’s not human."

"It’s a Blackwood," Killian shot back. He closed the distance between us, his hands grabbing my waist. The second his palms touched me, the silver light flared bright enough to blind me for a second, and then everything went quiet. The pressure in the room eased. Killian let out a long, ragged breath, his forehead dropping onto my shoulder.

"You're the only one," he muttered into my skin. "Every other woman they sent... they died before the first month was over. Their bodies couldn't handle the heat. But you... You're just standing here."

"Because I'm a dud," I said, my voice cracking. "I don't have a wolf for your son to fight with."

He pulled back, his grip tightening until it hurt. "Is that what they told you? That you're a failure? Your father is a fool. He sold me the only woman in the world who can keep my mind from snapping. You’re not a surrogate, Vespera. You’re a shield."

He reached up, his thumb tracing the raw, red line on my neck where Jax’s collar had been. His eyes went dark, the gold burning hotter. "The Alphas saw what happened in that ballroom. They saw the glasses break. They heard the howl. By tomorrow morning, the Council will be at my gates. They’ll tell me I’m too dangerous to have an heir. They’ll try to take you away for your own safety.

"And what will you do?" I asked.

"I'll kill every single one of them," he said, and I knew he wasn't joking. "But don't get it twisted. You're here for ninety-nine days. You give me my son. But if you try to leave before that? If you try to take my heir back to that pathetic pack of yours? I’ll burn the Silver-Moon forest until there’s nothing left but ash and bones."

He pushed me toward the bed. "Sleep. You’re going to need your strength."

"Where are you going?"

"To make sure Jax knows I wasn't bluffing," Killian said, walking toward the balcony. He didn't look back. He stepped out into the dark, and a second later, I heard the sound of heavy paws hitting the stone.

I lay there in the dark, my hand pressed against the silver pulse in my gut. I thought I was safe, but the shadows in the corner of the room seemed to be moving.

I sat up, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Killian?"

No answer. Just the sound of the rain.

Then, a floorboard creaked. Not by the door, but right next to the bed. A man stepped out of the darkness, his face covered by a black mask, a silver dagger gripped in his hand. He didn't say a word. He just lunged, the blade aimed straight for my stomach.

"The King doesn't get an heir," he hissed.

I dove to the floor, the blade slicing through the mattress where my torso had been a second ago. I tried to scream, but a heavy hand slammed over my mouth, pinning me to the carpet.

"Quiet, little dud," the assassin whispered, his eyes cold and empty. "This will be over before the King even smells the blood."