chapter eight

My throat locked up. I stared at High King Malakor, my heart hammering like a trapped bird in my ribcage.

"Again ?" I choked out, trying to pull my hand back from his warm grip. "Your Majesty, I can't! I'm scared. I don't know anything about being a Queen, or a Luna, or... or anything in this palace!"

"What are you afraid of, Vaelira?" Malakor asked softly. He didn't let go of my hand. His hold was gentle, but completely unyielding.

"Everything!" Tears of overwhelming fear burned the back of my eyes. "What about my old pack? What about Torren? He rejected me in front of everyone. He made me the laughingstock of the territory. If he finds out—"

"Torren is a pathetic boy who threw away a treasure because he was too blind to see its worth," Malakor cut in, his voice dropping into a low, deadly rumble. "He chose your sister, he cast you out into the dark. You owe him nothing, you owe that wretched pack nothing."

He took a step closer, towering over me. The heat radiating from his broad body was suffocating in the best way possible.

"You have no family left to hurt you," Malakor whispered, looking straight into my soul. "You have no home to return to. You have nothing left to lose, Vaelira... but with me, you have everything to gain. You have my protection, you have my army, you have me."

His words settled heavy in my chest.

He's right, a quiet, aching voice inside me realized, I have nothing left.

My mother hated me, my sister mocked me, my pack wanted me to freeze to death in the dirt. If I walked out of these grand palace doors right now, I would just be a lonely, nameless stray wandering the freezing mountains until I starved.

I looked up into his intense, glowing eyes. I didn't love him yet, my heart was too battered and bruised to love anyone. But standing here in his warm study, wrapped in velvet and held by the most powerful male in the kingdom, I thought: Why not give it a try?

I took a deep, shaky breath. "If I say yes... how do we do this?"

A dark, primal spark flared deep within Malakor’s amber eyes.

"A sacred mark," he murmured softly. "A claim before the ancestors. No court, no silk robes, and nothing can ever undo it, you'll be mine forever."

Before I could ask what he meant, Malakor raised his large, calloused hand. His long fingers gently reached up to the side of my neck, sweeping my long, dark hair over my opposite shoulder. The cool air of the study hit my bare skin, making a shiver run down my spine.

"Trust me," he whispered against my temple.

Suddenly, the warm temperature in the room plummeted.

Malakor’s posture shifted. A low, vibrating rumble hummed deep within his broad chest, not the sound of a man, but the guttural, dominant growl of his inner beast. I gasped as his eyes flashed, changing from amber to a brilliant, blinding, luminous gold that illuminated the dimly lit study.

Two sharp fangs slid down over his lower lip.

Panic flared in my chest, but before I could pull away, Malakor leaned down. His hot breath brushed against the sensitive skin right where my neck met my shoulder.

Then, he sank his fangs deep into my flesh.

Pain sharp, hot, and electric—shot straight through my neck! I let out a sharp cry, my hands instantly flying up to grip the heavy leather of his tunic.

In that exact split second, a deep, booming voice echoed directly inside my mind, raw and possessive

MATE.

Malakor’s inner wolf roared the claim straight into my soul.

His large hands slid down my back and locked firmly around my waist. He pulled my thick frame flush against his broad, muscular body, anchoring me to him as his fangs held the mark, pouring his golden royal aura straight into my bloodstream.

And then, something extraordinary happened inside me.

My own inner wolf , a small, battered, quiet creature that had been hidden and suppressed by years of abuse suddenly snapped its eyes open.

A wave of blinding, golden heat exploded from the bite mark, rushing through my veins like liquid fire. My vision flickered, my own brown eyes flashing with a sudden, bright golden light. The suffocating weight of my isolation shattered into a million pieces.

I can feel him, I realized in complete, breathless shock.

Through the brand new bond, I felt Malakor’s thunderous heartbeat. I felt his overwhelming protectiveness, his fierce territorial urge, and a deep, intrigue wrapping around my fragile soul like an impenetrable shield of steel.

The pain of the bite faded in seconds, replaced by a soothing, thrumming warmth that made my knees go entirely weak. I sagged against his chest, clinging to his shoulders just to stay upright.

Slowly, reluctantly, Malakor retracted his fangs. He licked the tiny drop of blood from the fresh, golden glowing mark on my neck, his hot breath lingering against my skin.

He didn't let go of my waist. He kept me pinned securely against his broad chest, his bright golden eyes scanning my stunned face.

I stared up at him, gasping for air, my hand rising to touch the throbbing, warm mark on my neck.

I was no longer just a discarded kitchen maid. The royal bond was forged.

I am officially bound to the Lycan King, I am the Luna of Volca-Crest .