Little wolf

Raiden’s POV

I paced my chamber like a caged beast, arms folded tight across my chest. My claws itched, digging crescents into my palms as though pain might silence the storm inside me. It didn’t. Nothing did.

Another sigh left me—low, sharp, frustrated. My fangs grazed my lip, and I caught myself biting down on my own finger, like I needed the sting to keep me grounded. Pathetic. Me, the Lycan King, pacing and gnawing at myself like some restless pup.

Lucian leaned against the stone wall, calm as ever, though his sharp gaze betrayed the weight of what he saw. He knew. He always knew.

From the latest report, my little wolf still slept. Hours had passed, yet she hadn’t stirred. Part of me hoped she’d sleep through the night. Maybe into the dawn. Maybe forever. Because the moment she woke, I’d have no choice but to face what was already gnawing at me.

The bond.

The gods-damned, cursed mate bond.

I clenched my jaw. Who was she? This fragile, trembling girl who stumbled into my territory and in a single heartbeat dragged me into hell? She was nothing compared to me—small, weak, breakable. And yet… she wasn’t nothing. Because my wolf, the beast I had spent centuries chaining, whispered only one word every time I thought of her: Mine.

I couldn’t stop seeing her. The way her body shivered under my gaze, the way her lips trembled as she begged. Even her fear stirred something primal, dark, protective in me. A need to shield her, to claim her, to tear apart anything that so much as breathed wrong in her direction.

It was madness. It was poison. And it was real.

Lucian’s voice finally broke the silence, smooth but edged with steel.

“Keeping her is dangerous, my king. You know this. The bond won’t change what you are. What your claws do. If you let her stay, you will doom her.”

His words slashed through me, but I didn’t flinch. Doom her? Maybe. But letting her go? That would doom me.

I turned to him slowly, silver burning in my eyes. “You think I don’t know what I am?” My voice was rough, guttural. “Every breath I take near her is a risk. Every glance, every step closer could be the one that kills her. I know this.”

“Then send her away,” Lucian pressed, though quieter now, like he was testing the weight of his own courage.

Send her away. Pretend the bond didn’t exist. Pretend she wasn’t mine.

I laughed, a low, bitter thing that echoed off the stone. “And live without her? Impossible.”

Lucian stiffened at the finality in my tone, but I didn’t care. My decision had already been made. Logic, curse, danger—it didn’t matter. The mate bond was a chain, and I had no will to break it.

I wanted her. Weak or not. Doomed or not. I wanted my little wolf.

And gods help the world if anyone tried to take her from me.

Aria’s POV

I woke to warmth.

For a moment, I thought I was dreaming—no, dead. The sheets beneath me were soft, far softer than the scratchy cot I had always curled up on in Bloodfang. A strange, soothing scent clung to me: herbs, smoke, something sharp and dark, but over it all… me. Clean. Fresh.

Someone had bathed me.

I shot upright, clutching at the sheets like they were a shield. My hair was brushed, my skin smooth, no dirt or dried blood. Even the bruises from the rogues were faint now, like they’d been tended with care.

But none of it mattered.

Where the hell was I?

My eyes darted across the room. Ancient stone walls carved with symbols that seemed to pulse faintly in the dim candlelight. Heavy curtains, furs draped over chairs, iron sconces flickering with fire that looked too alive. And the air—it was thicker here. Heavy, charged. Like the fortress itself had a heartbeat.

No. I couldn’t stay here. Whoever had brought me …him, that terrifying Lycan—this was his den. His cage.

I stumbled off the bed, nearly tripping on the rug as I headed for the door. My fingers wrapped around the handle, yanked—

Nothing.

I tried again, harder. Still nothing. The damn thing didn’t even rattle. It was like the wood and iron weren’t a door at all, but part of the wall.

Panic rose in me, hot and sharp. I spun and darted toward the tall windows, but the guards below lifted their heads immediately. Massive. Not wolves, not men, but something in between. Their glowing eyes followed me, as if they knew what I was thinking. A warning vibrated through the bond I didn’t want to admit was there: Try it. Just try.

I swallowed hard and stepped back from the glass.

Everywhere I turned, it was like the this building was mocking me. Doors wouldn’t open. Shadows shifted. Footsteps echoed in hallways I hadn’t even entered. Each time I thought I’d found a way out, a figure appeared, silently waiting, as if they’d known where I’d be.

It was impossible. It was suffocating.

“Fine,” I muttered under my breath, pressing my palms into my eyes. “Fine, Aria. You’re not escaping tonight. You’re not even escaping yourself.”

Because there it was—the faintest flicker inside me. A rumble. A growl.

Kaida.

My wolf. Silent since the rejection. Broken. Dead, I thought. But now—she was stirring. Snarling faintly, restless in my chest.

“What are you trying to tell me?” I whispered, clutching at my shirt as if I could hold her closer. “That I’m safe? Or that I’m trapped?”

No answer. Just the echo of her unease, pacing inside me like a caged beast.

Exhaustion dragged me backward, deeper into the halls until I stopped fighting it. My legs carried me without thought, down corridors lit with fire that danced strangely in the corners of my eyes. I didn’t know where I was going. Didn’t care.

I only knew one thing: I was walking deeper into the heart of this place.

And something inside me whispered that there was no turning back.

Raiden’s POV

Dinner. A simple word, but in my fortress, nothing was ever simple.

The hall was alive with low conversation, the scrape of cutlery, the weight of warriors who had followed me into blood and fire. Yet all of it dimmed the moment she entered.

My mate.

She walked as though every step was reluctant, her chin lifted just enough to hide the exhaustion still clinging to her. Cleaned, dressed in clothes that actually fit her, she should have looked fragile. Instead, she looked… defiant. Her eyes flicked over the food laid out before her—meats roasted to perfection, spiced vegetables, goblets of wine—and then she sat stiffly at my side, untouched, unbothered.

Lucian’s gaze darted between us, tension flickering in his jaw, but he said nothing. He knew better.

“Eat,” I said at last, my voice low, firm. A command more than a request.

She laughed. Not sweetly. Not nervously. But sharp, bitter—like broken glass dragged across stone.

“And why should I?” she asked, tilting her head toward me. Her voice carried farther than she realized, and the table stilled, every warrior’s attention snapping to her.

“So you can deal with me later? Finish me off after I’ve had a good last meal?”

My fingers curled against the table. The wood creaked beneath the force, splintering just enough to silence the hall completely.

Her eyes, gods, her eyes were on me, steady and unflinching. She knew who I was. What I could do. What I would do if provoked. And still… she pushed.

“If you’re going to kill me,” she said, her voice ringing clear in the silence, “then do it now.”

A ripple of shock moved through the room. One of the younger Lycans inhaled sharply, his fork slipping from his grip.

I felt it then—the bond thrumming like wildfire in my veins, the pull that demanded I break her, claim her, consume her until she had no words left but mine. My claws ached to rip through my skin, to show her just how close she was to waking the beast in me.

I leaned forward just enough that she could see the fire building in my eyes. The hall seemed to bend with it, shadows crawling along the walls.

But instead of tearing into her, I forced myself to rise. My chair scraped loudly against the stone floor, the sound like thunder in the silence.

I said nothing.

I didn’t need to.

The warriors bowed their heads as I strode past them, my body trembling with the effort of restraint. Every step was a war. Every breath, a battle.

Behind me, the great doors slammed shut, the sound echoing through the hall like the growl I refused to unleash.

Better they tremble from my silence than watch me destroy the only thing I cannot lose.