chapter 11

Lucia POV

“Me too, Your Majesty.”

The words tore past my lips, laced with a raw, blistering heat I didn't know I possessed. My hands shook violently as I forced my fingers to sign in sharp, jagged motions, pairing every gesture with the breathy, agonized rasp of my broken voice.

“I regret that day too! I regret every single second I spent breathing the same air as you in that hotel room! I regret it so much!”

My chest heaved with ragged, hysterical gasps. The dam inside my soul had shattered, spilling over with weeks of accumulated humiliation, heartbreak, and despair. I didn't care anymore about the terrifying power of the Lycan King standing before me. I didn't care if he struck me again. The pain inside my heart burned so intensely that no physical blow could ever hurt me more.

I spun on my heel, turning my back on the grand dining table, desperate to put distance between myself and the man who tore my soul to shreds every time he opened his mouth. I took two frantic, hurried steps toward the heavy double doors, tears blinding my vision.

“Where do you think you are going?” King Damian’s deep baritone cut through the hall like a razor blade.

Before I could reach the threshold, his ruthless command boomed across the marble floor.

“Get her!”

Instantly, two massive royal guards clad in dark leather and iron armor stepped out from the shadows of the doorway. Their large, heavy hands clamped down around my shoulders and arms with brutal, unyielding strength, dragging my small frame backward like a common thief caught stealing from the royal vaults.

I gasped, my feet dragging uselessly across the slick floorboards as they dragged me back to the center of the hall, dropping me unceremoniously before the shattered mess of glass and blood-red wine.

King Damian stood over me, his broad chest expanding with heavy, dangerous breaths, his glowing silver eyes fixed on my trembling, tear-streaked face.

“Clean what is on the floor,” he commanded, his voice cold, flat, and absolute.

Remo slammed his hands onto the table, stepping between us, his amber eyes blazing with uncontrollable fury.

“There are dozens of servants in this palace, Damian!” Remo shouted, his voice echoing off the high vaulted ceilings of the hall. “Why are you forcing your wife to crawl on her hands and knees to clean up a broken bottle you knocked over? Have you completely lost your mind?!”

King Damian didn't even blink. He slowly turned his head toward his younger brother, his aura flaring with a suffocating, lethal dark energy that made the guards in the room instantly bow their heads in terror.

“I am not talking to you, Remo,” Damian rasped, his voice dropping an octave into a low, terrifying growl that rattled the glass panes in the tall windows. “Do not speak while I am speaking. This is your last warning, brother. Step back, or face the consequences.”

Remo clenched his jaw so tightly his teeth ground together, his fists trembling at his sides. He looked down at me—at my bruised cheek, my swollen lip, and my terrified, weeping form—before casting a look of utter disgust at his older brother.

“You are a monster,” Remo spat through his teeth.

With a dark, angry scoff, Remo turned on his heel and stormed out of the grand dining hall, the heavy oak doors slamming shut behind him with a deafening thud that echoed like a gunshot.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

All the servants and guards quickly backed away into the far alcoves of the vast room, leaving only King Damian hovering over me like an apex predator towering above its wounded prey.

Hot tears poured continuously down my cheeks, blurring my sight, but I knew I had no choice. I was completely at his mercy. Slowly, painfully, I dropped to my knees amidst the pool of spilled crimson wine and sharp, glinting shards of crystal.

I reached out my trembling hands, bowing my head low as I began picking up the sharp pieces of broken glass one by one. The crimson liquid stained my pale fingers and soaked into the knees of my velvet trousers, but I kept my head down, stacking the sharp fragments into the palm of my left hand.

My vision swam with tears, my body shaking so violently that my grip slipped.

Slice.

A deep, jagged piece of glass drove straight into the meat of my index finger. A sharp gasp tore from my throat as hot, bright red blood welled from the wound, spilling over my hand and mixing with the dark wine pooling on the stone floor.

I froze, cradling my bleeding hand against my chest, a small, pathetic whimper escaping my locked throat.

Above me, King Damian suddenly stiffened.

His eyes blew wide open. The cold, impenetrable mask of ice on his face shattered into a thousand pieces, replaced by a look of raw, unadulterated shock. He took a heavy, erratic step toward me, his massive frame trembling as if hit by a physical shockwave.

“What… what did you do to me?” Damian asked, his voice shaking, sounding completely disoriented and breathless as he stared down at the drops of blood falling from my fingertip.

He didn't understand. But I did.

The moment my blood spilled, the divine connection flared through the mate bond like a wave of pure, white-hot fire, surging straight into the King’s soul.

Inside the deepest, darkest chambers of his mind, a deafening, monstrous roar erupted—a sound so powerful it reverberated directly into my own skull through our shared bond.

‘MATE!’ Damian’s giant golden-eyed wolf screamed in pure, feral anguish, thrashing savagely against its mental chains, its roar dripping with raw rage and protective fury. ‘OUR MATE IS HURTING! HER BLOOD IS ON THE STONES! LET ME OUT! LET ME TEAR DOWN THIS FORTRESS TO PROTECT HER!’

I sat there on the cold, blood-stained floor, clutching my bleeding hand to my chest, staring up through my tears into the wide, panicked silver eyes of the Lycan King.

His wolf had called me his mate again.

And as Damian stood frozen before me, clutching his own chest as if his heart were tearing apart, the terrifying sovereign looked like a man who was finally beginning to drown in his own lies.