The bond, the pull.

Aria’s POV

It has been a few hours since I did the unthinkable—

since I settled myself onto King Raiden’s lap and claimed him before my former mate, before the warriors, courtiers, and every pair of eyes gathered in that hall.

And even now, my chest still feels tight.

Like I haven’t taken a real breath since.

What had gotten into me?

What possessed me to move like that, to speak like that, to touch him like that?

I, Aria—who could barely lift her head in Bloodfang—had looked Darius in the eye and told him he would one day beg for me… then walked straight into the arms of the Lycan King. I told Darius that as well before leaving the pack.

Before everyone.

Before him.

Do I regret it?

No.

Not even a little.

I didn’t expect this day to ever come, but I’m glad it finally did.

For once, Darius saw something he never imagined:

me choosing someone else.

Choosing myself.

I have no idea what my life will look like here in the Lycan Kingdom. I don’t know their customs, their expectations, or what place I’m supposed to fill by King Raiden’s side. But if it means I am no longer under Darius’s rule—

no longer stepped on, dismissed, silenced, or treated like nothing—

Then I will take this life.

I will take this chance.

King Raiden…

he doesn’t seem like he would treat me the way Darius did.

He’s been gentle with me since the moment he found me. Soft-spoken, patient, unexpectedly careful—

no one has spoken to me like that in years.

I’d forgotten what softness felt like.

But what if he changes?

Sooner or later… everyone does.

What if today was an exception?

What if I embarrassed him?

He hasn’t said a word to me since Darius stormed out of the throne room.

Not a single glance.

Not a single question.

Did I do too much?

He didn’t push me off.

He didn’t look offended.

If anything, he looked… pleased. Like he enjoyed the way I clung to him, the way I claimed him.

So why the silence now?

Why is he ignoring me?

My mind keeps circling the same questions, tightening like a noose around my thoughts.

Did I cross a line I shouldn’t have?

Or is he simply giving me space?

Either way…

I can’t shake the fear twisting in my stomach.

What if I misread everything?

What if I made a mistake?

And why—

why does part of me worry so much about what he thinks?

I sat alone in my room, knees pulled close, staring at nothing and everything all at once. The silence pressed around me like a heavy blanket, smothering, restless. The events of today kept replaying in my head—over and over until I didn’t know which thought hurt, thrilled, or scared me the most.

What was my next move?

Stay?

Run?

Pretend nothing happened?

Pretend everything happened?

I didn’t know. I had never had choices before.

A soft, quiet breath escaped me. My fingers twisted in the sheets. My heart wouldn’t slow down—not since I left the throne room. Not since he looked at me like I had become something… important. Something more.

I pressed my palm to my chest, trying to calm the wild thrum—

—and then I felt it.

Not a sound.

Not a knock.

Just… him.

A presence.

A pull.

Like the air thickened, warmed, darkened around the edges.

King Raiden.

He was close.

Too close.

My head snapped up. My breath caught. My wolf pushed forward, lifting her head as if startled awake. My pulse stuttered and then raced, pounding against my ribs.

He was right outside my room.

Not knocking.

Not announcing himself.

Just… there.

Watching?

Thinking?

Hesitating?

I swallowed hard. Slowly, carefully, I pushed myself to my feet. It felt like wading through invisible heat—through him. The closer I got to the door, the stronger the pull became. A tug deep inside my chest, low and persistent, like a cord tightening.

The bond.

Was this what it truly felt like?

“Is this real?” I whispered under my breath. “Am I really… his mate?”

My fingers hovered over the door handle, trembling. My breath shook out of me, soft and unsteady. The bond didn’t whisper—it demanded. A fierce, desperate yearning that wasn’t just his or mine, but both.

He moved.

Just one slow step outside the door, but it sent a shiver through me. I felt him—every inch of his presence, every ounce of his restraint. It washed through me like a wave, stealing the ground from under me.

My palm pressed to the wood, helpless to stop myself.

I shouldn’t open this door.

I should open it.

I shouldn’t want him this close.

I want him closer.

I closed my eyes, chest rising and falling in a shaky rhythm. The bond pulled tighter, drawing me toward him like gravity.

He was on the other side.

Waiting.

For me.

And I…

I couldn’t keep pretending I didn’t feel it too.

The bond tugged—insistent, breathless, impossible to ignore.

Before I even realized what I was doing, my fingers curled around the handle, and I opened the door.

Raiden stood there.

Tall, composed, terrifying… and yet strangely breathtaking in the low lantern light. His silver eyes locked onto mine the moment the door cracked open—as if he had been staring at that exact spot, waiting for the moment I appeared.

He didn’t speak.

He just looked at me.

As if I were something he’d found after a lifetime of searching.

As if he didn’t quite know whether to worship me or devour me.

My breath hitched.

Slowly—slow like he feared startling me—he stepped inside, closing the door with a soft click behind him. The sound echoed through me, settling low in my stomach.

No escape.

Not from him.

Not from this pull.

He stopped inches before me, his presence swallowing the room whole. The air thickened, warm with his scent—dark forest, winter wind, and something wild beneath it.

“Aria…” he murmured, barely above a whisper.

My name in his voice felt like a caress.

His gaze dragged down my face, along my neck, lingering at the pulse that betrayed me with its frantic rhythm.

Then his hand lifted.

Goddess.

His fingers brushed my waist first—slow, deliberate, firm enough that I felt the claim in it. Warmth pooled through me instantly, lighting my skin on fire in the gentlest, sweetest way.

He shifted closer, and his thumb slid along the curve of my hip, as if memorizing the shape of me.

My breath tangled in my throat.

His other hand rose, calloused fingers grazing the side of my throat so carefully it made my knees weaken. I felt the tremble in his touch—control, restraint, and something far more dangerous tightly locked behind it.

“Look at me,” he murmured.

I did.

His fingertips traced up to my jaw, then to my cheek, his palm cupping my face with a tenderness I hadn’t felt in my entire life. His thumb brushed lightly along my cheekbone, almost reverent.

His eyes softened… and darkened at the same time.

Possessive.

Hungry.

Claiming.

“Little wolf,” he whispered, voice roughening, “you have no idea what you do to me.”

My heartbeat tripped violently.

His thumb slid to my lower lip.

I didn’t mean to lean into his touch—but I did. Just a fraction. Just enough to betray myself.

His breath stuttered.

And suddenly—

He froze.

Every muscle in his body went rigid. His jaw clenched hard. His eyes flickered, the silver deepening into something primal, something that wanted, needed, demanded—

Then he stepped back.

Abruptly.

Breathing harshly, like the air inside the room had become too dangerous for him to inhale.

I stood there trembling, heat swirling inside me, my lips parted, the ghost of his touch burning along my skin.

He dragged a hand through his hair, pacing back once as if a war raged inside him.

“If I stay another minute…” His voice was low, strained, intimate, like a confession pulled straight from his soul.

“…I’ll take you.”

My legs nearly gave out.

He looked at me—hungry, tortured, wanting in a way that made my breath vanish.

And then he turned.

Opened the door.

And left.

Just like that.

Leaving me standing in the middle of the room—

shaking, confused, aching…

and furious at myself for wanting him back in that doorway the moment he walked away.