CHAPTER SIX

Lyra’s pov

Mate?

I was half-asleep when it happened.

Warmth surrounded me as strong, comfortable arms liftes me effortlessly. My body was sore and sluggish, instinctively nestling closer to the heat, drawn to the soft, sweet scent filling my nose. It wasn’t like anything I’d smelled before—earthy, dark, with a hint of spice and something wild. Something… mine.

The tingles came next, flowing over my skin like soft sparks. My breath caught even in sleep. Every soul felt awake, but I didn’t open my eyes. I couldn’t. I felt too safe. Too tired.

Too good.

Then I was lowered onto something soft. Sheets. The plush mountain of fur blankets.

A voice, deep and low, whispered close to my ear.

“Beautiful… sleep well… mate.”

My heart skipped.

But the comfort pulled me under before I could make sense of anything.

****

I woke with a start.

The sun filtered in through the high windows, bathing the room in gold. My eyes adjusted slowly, blinking away the heaviness of sleep until I realized where I was.

This wasn’t the floor.

I was in a bed.

A large bed.

Soft, warm, clearly expensive and reeking of him.

I shot upright and immediately regretted it.

Pain struck through my torso like lightning. My ribs, my ankle, my back—everything protested violently. I clutched my side with a sharp gasp, curling forward as I tried not to cry out.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Once the pain dulled to a miserable throb, I slowly peeled the blanket off and sat on the edge, breath shaking.

How did I get here?

The floor. I’d fallen asleep on the floor.

I remembered the fire, the warmth. My body refusing to move.

So how—?

And then…

The dream.

Being picked up. That scent. The tingles. His voice…

“Mate.”

I blinked. My hand went to my lips.

No. No way.

It had to be a dream. A weird, pain-induced hallucination. Why would the Rogue King carry me to bed? Why would he whisper something so… intimate?

Why would he call me mate?

I shook the thought away, forcing my feet to the floor with a grimace. I needed to get out of his bed. Out of his space before he came back and—

A knock.

I jumped, eyes wide, heart leaping to my throat.

Again.

No voice. Just another sharp, firm knock.

Panic coiled in my chest.

Why would he knock?

Isn’t this his room?

…Or was it someone else?

I crept toward the door, every step a careful negotiation with the pain that threatened to drop me back onto the bed. I hesitated, then slowly pulled the door open.

And froze.

It was him.

Not the King.

But him. The man from the woods. The one who stopped the others from killing me.

“Your Majesty—” he started, then stopped short as his eyes landed on me.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and had a face carved from stone and shadows. His hand was raised, mid-knock, and his icy-blue eyes widened the second he saw me.

Shock flickered across his features.

I stumbled back instinctively, heart racing, throat dry. I didn’t know why I was afraid of him. He’d saved me. But still…

His eyes scanned me, gaze narrowing.

After a moment of heavy silence, he asked, calm but firm, “What are you doing in the king’s chambers?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it.

I had no answer.

At least, not one that made any sense.

But before I could stutter something stupid, another voice filled the hall.

“Because I brought her here,” the King said from down the corridor, his tone cold as ever.

I looked past the man—Beta Garrick, I remembered now—and saw him approaching.

His hair was damp, as if he’d just washed, and a few leaves clung to his shoulder. He’d gone for a run.

The King looked impossibly calm. Like he hadn’t just thrown me into another emotional spiral with one sentence.

Garrick straightened instantly. “Apologies, my King. I was looking for you. I came to inform you of—” his gaze flicked briefly to me, then back again, “—something important.”

King Ronan’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I’ll attend to it later.”

He stepped into the room, brushing past me, and I scrambled out of his way. He didn’t touch me, didn’t say a word, but his presence was overwhelming.

I’d just gotten out of his bed.

And now I was shuffling past him like a mouse.

He stopped once inside, standing at the center of the room. Then turned to Garrick with his usual expressionless face.

“Have her cleaned,” he said simply.

I blinked.

Garrick lifted a brow. “My King?”

“Then take her around the kingdom,” he continued, eyes still locked on his Beta. “Teach her our ways. Our people.”

My stomach twisted.

“Because it seems…” his gaze slid to me, eyes dark and unreadable, “she’ll be staying for a while.”

He didn’t wait for a response.

Just turned away.

And I stood there, frozen on the door of his territory, trying to understand what the hell was happening to me.