Chapter 11 - Ours

Veyron

Veyron entered his chambers. Eryx restlessly pacing his mind.

"Finally," Eryx growled. "The stench of fools lingers. Strip it away."

Veyron ignored the beast’s impatience, focusing on removing his pauldrons. The gilded metal, scuffed with marks of combat, clattered onto the nearby table. Piece by piece, the rest of his armor followed, revealing the taut, scarred flesh beneath.

From a side chamber, the Mistress of Shadows entered without announcement. She swayed up to Veyron with unspoken authority, her dark eyes gleaming with cunning. A sly smile carved on her face.

“Veyron,” she spoke, low and silky, a secret meant only for him.

“Mistress,” he greeted.

She loosened straps and untangled layers of his attire with practiced ease. His flesh was hot beneath her wandering fingertips.

Her touch was feather light, circling his throat to fasten his silver torque around his neck. Her fingers lingered, trailing down to adjust the folds of his cloak. There was no affection—only possession. A game they both played.

"You carry the scent of battle like a cloak,” she murmured, smoothing the fur over his shoulders. “But it is not only blood that stains you tonight."

Veyron’s eyes darkened, though he gave no response. She knew his past. It was one reason he kept her close. She had no fear of his power, and guided him in the use of the Crescent Gate.

"She's missed being in our bed," Eryx snarled with grudging approval.  “She will give us what we need. But not what we crave… A will to capture, throat bare, knees bent.”

She pulled off his dark, sleeveless tunic embroidered with silver threads. Leaning in closer, her breath warm against his ear, she wrapped a fur-lined robe of dark fabric embroidered with the silver and deep crimson of his dominion. His cock hardened, a demanding pressure filling his loins.

“You’ll need to address the border patrols first,” she murmured. “Their numbers are...” She paused, drawing a finger along his chin. “Diminished after battle.”

He turned to pull her against him, her breasts pressing against his muscular chest. It had been a while since he had the time to satisfy such desires. 

“Just take her now.”   Eryx growled.  

Veyron pressed his hardness into her black robes, his hands finding the small of her back. “I’ll show you nothing has diminished after battle.” He groaned.

Her smile grew amused. “I am sure you are ready to impress, Alpha. But there is business to attend to.” 

He didn’t respond, only tightened his hold against her.

“The scouts have found ruins worth scavenging. And—” she continued, letting her fingers linger at the knot she tied at his waist, “there is a new maid in the household.”

“Hmm…?” Veyron questioned

  “A little mouse, Kyline found in the fields. Young, resourceful, and... promising.” The Mistress explained. “She’ll need your approval.”

“She’ll go last.” He dismissed, “There is more important business than a shiny, new distraction.”

She stepped back. “There are indeed. Things in the dark stir. You feel it. The same way you feel the gate.”

Memory flickered across his face so quickly only his Mistress would notice. A sharp ache he quickly smothered. Her smile conveyed the intimacy of shared secrets. 

Veyron’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. She had been there when it all began, when the Crescent Gate chose him. When his family had been taken from him.

“Enough with the riddles. Speak plainly." He commanded.

Her voice dropped to a more conspiratorial pitch. “The Crescent Gate’s path is opening. The Luna Stone is close and we must be ready."

Without another word, they moved in sync, walking side by side to the throne room. Chatter filled the vaulted space. Advisors and attendants lined the hall. But when the Mistress of Shadows stepped into the room, all activity ceased.

Her voice echoed off the vaulted ceilings, “Alpha Veyron returns to his den, bearing the scars of battle and the strength of his conquests. You owe your lives to his victories—stand in reverence.”

Eryx growled faintly in approval. Veyron took his place on his throne, noting the council members, and patrol leaders standing around the room. They all sought his favor and feared his wrath.

His focus narrowed to a single woman, standing near the edge of the room. Her submissive posture and meek expression sang through the gathering like a forgotten melody. Her presence struck his chest with a visceral pull that sent Eryx into a frenzy. 

"Claim her," Eryx snarled, voice dark with hunger.

The faint light from the high windows caught in her hair, illuminating the curves of her face. The mating bond threaded its way through his senses, wrapping around his will. His claws pierced the wood of his throne. Rising would be a mistake, she should be last. 

But when her gaze flickered upward toward him, everything faded, leaving only the pounding of his heart. Her eyes ignited a raging fire within him.

"She’s ours."  Eryx growled affirmation.

Veyron stood, closing the distance expeditiously. 

Lyra

The moment he looked at her, the air left Lyra’s lungs. His attention was on her and it was all-consuming.

Her heart pounded as he stalked toward her. Her instincts screamed to make herself small; invisible. But it didn’t matter. He had already set his sight on her.

Does he recognize me? The thought jarred her panic. Her throat tightened as memories surged—her ruined village, Aunt Maris’s final words, the fires. Fear coiled in her chest . Will he kill me as a spy? What about Aunt Kyline?

Her blood surged with an inexplicable heat, her senses sharpening as he drew closer. The magnetism was impossible to fight. The world brightened, growing louder, more vivid. His boots echoed like thunder.

Molten fire twisted through her, awakening sensations she couldn’t understand and leaving her trembling with confusion and longing.

His hands slammed into the wall on either side of her head, towering over her trembling form. His musk filled her lungs. Her knees weakened, and she let out a small squeak. 

His molten ochre eyes burned into her as heat radiated from the sheer power in his hold. His body was so close, intensity locking solely on her.

“Who are you?” his rough growl vibrated through her.

He was going to kill her. He had to know she was here for her father.