His lips touch mine with unexpected gentleness. Warm, slightly chapped from the forest air, they move against mine with care. The familiar taste of him, pine and something spicy like cinnamon, floods my senses. His hand slides from my chin to cup my cheek.
"Sera," he whispers against my mouth, my name a prayer and a plea. His hands slide beneath my tunic, calloused palms warm against my skin. "We don't have much time."
"Then don't waste it talking," I murmur, pulling him down to the soft moss beside the stream. At this moment, I don't care about my mission or my duty. I need to feel something real, something that belongs just to me, before I surrender to a life bound to a man I despise. Before another Alpha's bite marks my throat and his knot locks inside me.
Asher's mouth trails down my neck as I arch beneath him, carefully avoiding my scent glands. We undress each other with desperation and need. His skin is golden in the filtered light, marked with scars I know the stories behind. I trace them with my fingertips, each one a mission survived, a moment when death came close but failed to claim him.
When he enters me, I gasp, clutching his shoulders. Our bodies move together in a harmony we've perfected over years of stolen moments like this. I lose myself in the sensation, in the weight of him above me, in the sound of his breath catching when I move just so. His Alpha scent mixes with my Omega pheromones in a way that's pleasant but not overwhelming. Compatible but not fated.
A branch cracks somewhere in the darkness, but I'm too focused on Asher to care. The shadows pool strangely around the clearing's edge, but the boundary has always done odd things to light.
"Look at me," he whispers, and I open my eyes to meet his gaze. The raw emotion I find there makes my chest ache. We're not just lovers seeking release; we're two people clinging to something precious before the tide of duty and politics tears us apart. Before I become another Alpha's mate.
"Stay with me," I breathe, though I know it's impossible. "Just for now, stay with me."
"Always," he promises, his movements growing more urgent. I wrap my legs around him, pulling him deeper, trying to memorize the feel of him, the scent of him, the taste of his skin against my lips. My body responds to his familiar touch, pleasure building steadily. Safe. Controlled. Nothing like the overwhelming, biological imperative I fear will consume me with Malakai.
This is the last time I'll touch someone who doesn't terrify me. The last time I'll feel desire without the overwhelming weight of a mate bond forcing my surrender. Tonight, Malakai's claiming bite will rewrite my biology, and Asher will become just a memory—a road not taken, a life I'll never live.
For a moment, I sense eyes on us, but Asher's touch drives the paranoia away.
The clearing around us fades away, the boundary between Shadow and Light irrelevant as we create our own world in this moment. Nothing exists beyond his touch, his breath mingling with mine, the building tension coiling tighter with each movement.
Asher thrusts into me, and I'm so close to climax, my body trembling on the edge, but a deep voice shatters everything.
"Don't stop on my account."
I freeze beneath Asher, every muscle locking. That voice—dark cedar and winter smoke made audible. An Alpha voice that makes my Omega biology scream in recognition even as my mind screams in terror.
Malakai.
The shadows beneath the nearest tree pulse once—a heartbeat of darkness—and then he steps out of the shadow itself, his form solidifying from the darkness like a nightmare taking shape. How long has he been here? How much has he seen?
The shadowstone pendant against my throat burns suddenly, painfully hot.
But I'm still locked together with Asher, still full of another Alpha's cock while my mate watches.
There is no recovery from this. No explanation that will save us.
The wedding might still happen today—but I've just guaranteed my wedding night will be a horror show.
CHAPTER 5
MINE
MALAKAI
I don't run. Shadow Lords don't fucking run.
But as I move through the forest with uncharacteristic urgency, my strides are longer and more purposeful than I've ever permitted anyone to witness. The shadows around me writhe and twist, responding to the rage that burns cold in my chest. Black tendrils lash out at passing trees, leaving deep scars in ancient bark. Wildlife scatters before me, sensing the predator in their midst.
My bride. On her wedding day. With another man.
The guards who reported her missing are already dead. Their screams were brief—I didn't have time for creativity. Just enough to satisfy the initial surge of fury that threatened to consume the entire east wing of the palace. My rut, barely controlled even with magical suppression, had surged at the news, making the kill messy and brutal.
My shadows found her quickly. They always find what I seek. They whispered her location to me, painting images in my mind of a border clearing where light and shadow meet. But they showed me more—showed me she wasn't alone. Showed me a man's scent mingling with hers.
And they found evidence of her treachery—word she'd sent to her prince, begging him to meet her one last time at the old border markers. The fool came running, as if a treaty-marked clearing would protect them from me. As if anything could.
