Chapter 3

Elara's POV

I walked quickly toward the tent at the far end of the camp, the bottle of deer blood tucked safely against my side.

The guards who usually stood watch outside were nowhere to be seen, likely still enjoying the feast nearby. I reached the tent and pushed the flap open without knocking.

What I saw made me stop cold.

A female wolf, one I did not recognize, was leaning over Lucian on the narrow bed, her hands pressed against his bare chest.

Lucian's own hands were wrapped tightly around the woman's throat as they struggled against each other. The fresh wounds on his shoulders had torn open again, and blood dripped onto the furs beneath him.

"Get off him!" I shouted, rushing forward.

The woman turned, startled, her grip loosening just enough for Lucian to shove her sideways. She landed hard against the stone floor and scrambled up, glaring at me with open hostility.

"This is none of your business," the woman spat. "The King sent me here."

"The King sent me too," I said, stepping between them. "Kane's orders. Leave now, before I call the guards and tell them you attacked the prisoner without permission."

The woman's eyes flicked between me and Lucian, weighing her chances. Finally, with a hiss of frustration, she snatched her cloak from the floor and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

I turned to Lucian, who was pressing a hand against his bleeding shoulder, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Are you trying to die?" I snapped, kneeling beside him. "You are still injured. Fighting her like that could have killed you."

"Better to die fighting," Lucian said through gritted teeth, "than to let some Northern whore paw at me while I am wounded."

"That is not fair," I said. "She did not choose to be sent either."

"Fair?" He let out a harsh laugh, wincing as it pulled at his wounds. "Do not speak to me of fair, Northern girl. Your King tortures me for a month, and when torture fails, he sends women to finish the job in a different way. What is the difference between Northern females and cheap prostitutes, given to whichever man the King points them toward?"

My jaw tightened. "Careful what you say."

"Why should I be careful? What more can you people do to me?" His eyes narrowed, sharp despite the blood on his face. "Tell me, is that why you have come tonight as well? Did your King send you for the same purpose as her?"

I did not answer right away, and my silence was answer enough. Lucian's expression darkened.

"I see," he said quietly. Then, after a pause, "I will not kill you, at least. Not after the month you spent keeping me alive with your broth and your bandages. You have earned that much."

"How generous," I muttered, though my heart was pounding.

I sat back on my heels and studied him for a long moment. He was badly hurt, weak from blood loss, and trapped deep within Northern territory with no way to escape. Even if he wanted to hurt me, he would not get far. And Kane would tear him apart the instant he tried.

"Even if I did not come tonight," I said slowly, "the King would only send someone else. Someone far worse than that woman who was just here. You saw how she was. There are others fiercer still."

Lucian said nothing. He stared at me, his jaw working, his breathing gradually slowing.

For a moment, guilt filled my chest. Was I really about to force myself on a wounded man who had already suffered enough?

But what choice did I have?

While he sat there, lost in whatever thoughts churned behind his sharp eyes, I moved quickly.

I grabbed the chain still hanging from the wall and looped it around his wrists before he could react, pulling it tight with the same practiced motion I used when helping Kane bind a struggling deer for slaughter.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, jerking against the chain, but it held firm. "Untie me immediately."

I did not answer. I pulled the small bottle from my dress, popped the cork free, and caught his jaw before he could turn away.

I poured half the contents into his mouth. He sputtered, coughing, the dark liquid spilling over his lips.

"What is this?" he snarled. "What did you give me? Poison?"

"It is not poison," I said, lifting the bottle to my own lips and swallowing the rest in one quick motion, grimacing at the sharp, metallic taste. "I promise. I will be gentle with you."

Lucian's eyes widened, disbelief and fury flashing across his face. "Gentle. You tie me like an animal and force something down my throat, and you call that gentle?"

"It is not poison," I repeated, moving closer. "It only makes things easier."

I pushed his bound hands behind his back and climbed onto the bed, settling beside him. Lucian's whole body went rigid as he realized what I intended to do.

"Get away from me," he snapped. "You filthy Northern..."

"Promiscuous," I finished for him, my voice steadier than I felt. "Dirty prostitute. I have heard it already tonight."

Despite his words and the fury still burning in his eyes, I noticed the faint flush spreading across his face. The strange mixture I had given him was already beginning to take effect, though I could not tell what he was feeling or how much of it he could control.

What followed was far harder than I had expected. I had seen couples together countless times from a distance, heard them through thin walls, and watched animals in the breeding pens without a second thought.

I had assumed my body would simply know what to do.

It did not.

I had never been this close to a man before, and every uncertain movement reminded me how little I understood about what I was about to do.

I forced myself to breathe slowly, trying to calm my nerves as I would a frightened deer before the killing blow.

Sable lied to me, I thought, gritting my teeth. Where is the pleasure she promised?

"You force yourself on me," Lucian ground out, his voice strained, "when you clearly know nothing of what you are doing. Pathetic. Is this truly the best the Northern Pack could send?"

I ignored him. I closed my eyes and tried to remember the warriors I had watched from a distance. I remembered how they moved together, how they held each other close. I tried to follow those distant memories, awkward and uncertain, hoping I would somehow figure things out.

A low groan escaped Lucian before he quickly swallowed it.

I opened my eyes and studied his face. I wanted to know whether I was hurting him, whether he was suffering more than he already had. But his expression gave little away, and his anger made it impossible to tell what he was thinking.

Lucian swallowed hard. His breathing changed as he struggled with the situation, and his bound hands pulled against the chains.

I had expected him to keep shouting at me, but the insults gradually stopped. The silence that followed was somehow worse. I could hear the fire crackling outside and the faint sounds of the feast beyond the tent.

I placed my hands against the bed to steady myself, painfully aware of how wrong everything felt. I had imagined this moment would be simple, something my body would understand even if my mind did not. Instead, I felt frightened, confused, and burdened by the knowledge that neither of us had chosen this.

Lucian's breathing remained uneven. His eyes closed briefly before opening again, and his jaw tightened as though he were fighting against something he could not explain.

The angry frown on his face remained, but he no longer had the strength to throw insults at me. He leaned his head back against the furs, looking exhausted.

I found myself watching him, searching his face for some sign that he was no longer in pain. Yet the sight of his bound wrists and the blood staining his shoulders only made the guilt inside me grow heavier.

A strange warmth spread through my body. I had never experienced anything like it before, and I did not know whether it came from the mixture or my own nervousness. I tried to ignore it, focusing instead on getting through the moment.

Time seemed to disappear. I did not know how long we remained together in the dim torchlight. The chains rattled softly whenever Lucian moved, and the silence between us grew heavier with every passing moment.

Eventually, I felt overwhelmed by everything that had happened. I stopped and drew a shaky breath, waiting for my racing heart to slow.

Lucian shifted beneath me, then turned his face away. His expression was difficult to read, but I could see the exhaustion in his eyes and the tension in his shoulders.

I sat still for a moment, catching my breath. Then, when I was sure that I could move, I slowly climbed off the bed with shaky legs.

I smoothed down my skirt, glancing at Lucian, who lay against the bed with his chest still rising and falling quickly. He looked away from me when he saw me watching him.

This should be enough, I thought, reaching for the chain to loosen it slightly around his wrists. This must be how a child is made.