“I didn’t know it could feel like this,” he says, voice low. “So ... absolute.”
“The fae have stories about true pairings, but I never ...” I trail off, my fingertips tracing the line of his jaw. “This changes everything.”
“And makes everything more dangerous.” His eyes darken. “Nyxiana’s warning—“
“I know.” The political reality crashes back with crushing weight. My father, the courts, the marriage expectations—all now infinitely more threatening to what we’ve just recognized.
Callum’s hands frame my face, his palms warm against my cheeks, fingers curving along my jaw with such tenderness that my breath catches. “I don’t care what your father or the fae courts want. I don’t care about politics or traditions or whatever marriage they’ve planned for you. You’re my mate.”
The fierce certainty in his voice sends my pulse skittering. Heat blooms beneath his touch, spreading down my neck. “The surveillance is real. If the courts discover this—“
“Then we’ll be careful.” His thumbs stroke across my cheekbones, leaving trails of sensation that make my skin tingle. “But I’m not giving you up.”
“Nor I you.” The words emerge barely above a whisper, my voice unsteady. “No matter what comes.”
His gaze drops to my lips, and the intensity in those wolf-gold eyes steals the air from my lungs. My body sways forward without conscious thought, drawn by the invisible thread humming between us. His scent wraps around me, making my head swim.
The distance between us evaporates. His breath ghosts across my mouth for one suspended heartbeat.
Then his lips touch mine.
The contact jolts through me like lightning finding ground. Soft pressure, warm and sure, that makes every nerve endingflare to life. My eyes flutter closed as the mate bond ignites—a golden thread that was always there suddenly blazing white-hot, searing through my chest and radiating outward until my fingertips burn with it.
His mouth moves against mine, coaxing, and I part my lips on a gasp. The taste of him floods my senses—dark and wild and perfect. My hands slide up his chest, feeling his heart thundering beneath my palms, then tangle in his hair. The strands are softer than I imagined, thick between my fingers.
His arms band around my waist, pulling me flush against the solid wall of his body. Heat radiates through our clothes everywhere we touch—chest to chest, hip to hip. The kiss deepens, grows hungrier. His tongue sweeps against mine, and pleasure cascades down my spine, pooling low in my belly.
The bond pulses with each heartbeat, weaving tighter, pulling us closer. I can feel him through it—his desire, his wonder, his absolute certainty that I belong to him as surely as he belongs to me. It’s overwhelming, perfect, and terrifying all at once.
His wolf stirs beneath his skin—I sense it through the bond, powerful and primal, pressing against my awareness. The beast recognizes his mate, satisfied and possessive in a way that should frighten me, but instead sends a thrill racing through my veins.
A whimper escapes my throat. His grip tightens, one hand sliding up my back to cradle the nape of my neck, angling my head to take the kiss deeper still. My knees go weak. If he weren’t holding me, I’d melt into the floor.
When we finally break apart, I’m gasping for air. My lips feel swollen, tingling. His forehead drops to mine, and I feel his chest heaving, hear the ragged pull of his breathing mixing with my own.
“Holy shit,” he breathes, the words rough and wondering.
His eyes are molten gold, pupils blown wide, and I wonder if mine look just as dazed. The bond hums between us—not complete, not yet, but acknowledged now. Waiting. Like a door standing open, inviting us to step through together when we’re ready.
“We need to be smart about this.” The words scrape out of me, reluctant. My fingers are still twisted in his shirt, unwilling to let go. “If anyone saw—“
“We keep this between us.” His voice is rough, gravelly in a way that sends a shiver through me. His hand curves around the back of my neck, thumb stroking the sensitive skin just below my ear. “For now. But know that I’m yours, Lyanna Silverthorne. No matter what comes next.”
The promise in his words settles into my bones, warm and unshakeable.
Chapter 15
Lyanna
The Lodge hums with late-afternoon activity. Half the pack has gathered in the common room—some playing cards by the window, others reading or talking in small clusters. I’ve claimed a corner table near the hearth with Evie, who’s helping me inventory what I need restocked at the infirmary.
“I think that covers everything,” I tell her, closing my notebook with a satisfied snap. “I’ll get this list to Harper in the morning, and then—“
The temperature drops ten degrees in an instant.
My pen rolls off the table, clattering to the floor. The fire in the massive stone hearth gutters and dims as though something is sucking the warmth from the air itself. Evie’s head snaps up, herentire body going still in that predatory way dragons have when sensing a threat.
The space near the entrance begins to shimmer—not like heat haze, but like reality itself is bending, warping, folding in on itself. The shimmer splits open with a sound like tearing silk, revealing a vertical slash of brilliant silver light that makes my eyes water. Through it, I glimpse another place—soaring crystal spires, eternal twilight, the unmistakable architecture of the High Court of Doria.
