บททั้งหมดของ BloodBound Crown : บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

The rain had turned the road to mud three miles back, but Kael Dravenhart didn't slow his horse. He'd ridden through worse—through blizzards that could freeze a man's lungs, through summer storms that turned the earth to soup. A little autumn rain was nothing. Nothing but an annoyance that kept honest travelers off the roads and left the darkness to creatures like him.Like the ones he hunted.The inn appeared through the mist like a rotting tooth jutting from diseased gums. *The Broken Cask*, according to the intelligence report folded inside his coat. A roadside establishment of ill repute, the kind of place where coin bought silence and silver bought absolutely anything else. The building sagged against itself, timber beams warped by time and neglect, windows dark except for the sickly yellow glow leaking from cracks in the shutters.Kael dismounted in one fluid motion, his boots hitting the mud with barely a sound despite his size. He was built like the warriors of old Dravenhart

Kael had been wrong.He hadn't found her at the auction. Not really. What stood on that platform, held upright by guards who gripped her arms like she might collapse without their support, was a ghost. A shell. The *her* he needed to see was still locked somewhere deeper, and his wolf—gods, his wolf—*demanded* he find her.But first, he had to survive the next few minutes without ripping every throat in this chamber.The golden collar gleamed obscenely against her pale skin, catching the torchlight like a promise. Or a threat. Kael's eyes tracked lower, and his rage crystallized into something cold and surgical.Silver manacles circled both wrists, the metal biting deep enough that he could see the raw, weeping wounds beneath. The chains connecting them were short, forcing her arms into an unnatural position that would have been agonizing for a human. For a wolf—even a latent one—silver was liquid fire against the skin, a constant burn that never healed properly, never stopped *hurtin

The word echoed through Kael's soul like a bell tolling the end of the world.*Mate.*Not a whisper. Not a suggestion. A *roar* that originated somewhere deeper than bone, older than blood, rising from the very foundation of what he was. Every cell in his body recognized her. Every instinct demanded he close the distance between them, claim her, *protect* her with a ferocity that made his previous understanding of violence seem like a child's game.The mate bond wasn't gentle. It didn't ask permission. It simply *was*—absolute, inevitable, undeniable as gravity.And it was destroying every carefully constructed wall Kael had built around himself since birth.He'd been taught control before he could walk. Discipline before he could shift. Duty before desire, always, *always* duty before desire. The crown came first. The kingdom came first. His own wants were irrelevant compared to the weight of responsibility he'd been born to carry.But the bond didn't care about duty.The bond cared

The night air hit Kael's face like a slap, cold and clean after the suffocating darkness of the inn. He gulped it down, trying to clear the scent of blood and death from his lungs, but it was useless. The carnage clung to him like a second skin.None of it mattered.Because Lyra had stopped breathing.Not completely—her chest still rose and fell in shallow, irregular gasps—but each breath was weaker than the last, each gap between them longer. Her heartbeat stuttered against his chest, a dying bird trapped behind her ribs.*No.*Kael's own heart seized with terror so pure it whited out thought. The bond between them thrummed with distress, sending waves of her agony straight into his chest. He could *feel* her slipping away, feel the life draining from her body moment by moment.Ten minutes, his battlefield training supplied with cold clarity. Maybe less. That's how long she had before the damage became irreversible.He ran.His horse was tied at the treeline where he'd left it—a mass

The world *burned*.Not with flame, not with heat, but with *power*—raw and ancient and utterly overwhelming. It roared through Kael's veins like molten gold, like lightning given form, remaking him from the inside out.The mate bond wasn't a gentle thing. It was *cataclysmic*.Kael had thought he understood what claiming a mate meant. He'd studied the histories, heard the stories, knew the theory. Two souls joining. A magical connection forming. Strength shared between partners.The reality made those descriptions laughable in their inadequacy.This wasn't just a connection. This was *fusion*. Two separate beings becoming something new, something *more*, while still remaining themselves. He could feel Lyra inside his chest, not as an intrusion but as if she'd always been there, a missing piece he hadn't known was absent until it clicked into place.*Her.*Her fear, sharp as broken glass. Her pain, a symphony of suffering years in the making. Her exhaustion, bone-deep and soul-crushin