The rival lion’s roar of pain and surprise gave Leander the opening he needed. Pride in his mate’s courage warred with fury at the danger she’d placed herself in, but there was no time for either emotion. Damian was wounded, off-balance, and Leander had waited twelve years for this moment.
With brutal efficiency, he pinned Damian to the cabin floor, his massive weight crushing down as his jaws found their target. Damian’s struggles grew weaker, his ambitions finally meeting their end in the place where he’d thought to claim his victory.
When it was over, when Damian’s body had shifted back to human form in death, Leander stood on four paws over his fallen rival, breathing hard.
Justice finally served. The threat to his mate permanently removed.
Camille approached slowly, her eyes bright with tears of relief. When she wrapped her arms around his massive lion neck, burying her face in his mane, Leander felt the last of his rage drain away.
She was safe. And they were finally, truly free.
NINETEEN
CAMILLE
The warmth of Leander’s mane against her cheek felt like coming home. Camille pressed her face deeper into the golden-brown fur, breathing in the wild scent that was uniquely his—spice and pine and something indefinably masculine that made her lion shifter mate hers in ways no words could express. Her arms tightened around his massive neck as tears of relief slipped down her cheeks.
She hadn’t been afraid when she watched him kill Damian. The realization should have shocked her, but it didn’t. What she’d witnessed wasn’t mindless violence—it was love made manifest in its most primal form. Her mate protecting what was his, ensuring she would never again face the kind of control and manipulation that had defined too much of her life.
“Take me home,” she whispered against his fur, and felt rather than heard the rumble of acknowledgement that vibrated through his powerful frame.
Without hesitation, Leander lowered himself enough for her to climb onto his back. The moment she settled between his shoulder blades, her legs finding their natural position against his sides, something clicked into place that felt as ancient as it was right.
The cabin door hung crooked on its hinges as they emerged into the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy. Travis appeared beside them in his own lion form, darker-coated and slightly smaller but no less impressive. He fell into step as Leander began the journey back toward the estate, his powerful stride eating up ground with fluid grace.
Wind whipped through Camille’s blonde hair as they moved through the forest, but she felt no fear of falling. Leander’s gait was so smooth she might have been riding in the finest carriage, and the mate bond pulsed between them with contentment that felt like sunshine in her veins. She couldn’t believe this magnificent creature was hers—would be her husband, her partner, her everything.
The estate soon appeared through the trees, all weathered stone and ivy-covered walls that spoke of generations of Drakes who had called this place home. As they emerged from the forest onto the manicured grounds, Camille spotted his mother Helena waiting on the wraparound porch, her elegant form tense with worry.
Leander came to a stop near the front steps, and Camille slid from his back with reluctant grace. The moment her feet touched solid ground, her mate began the shift back to human form—bones reforming, muscles contracting, golden fur receding to reveal the man she loved. But the transformation revealed the cost of their rescue. Blood streaked his torso from claw marks, and exhaustion lined his face in ways that made her chest ache.
Helena was already moving, a thick terry cloth robe in her hands as she rushed down the steps. Her green eyes—so like her son’s—took in his injuries with a mother’s practiced assessment as she wrapped the robe around his shoulders.
“What happened?” she demanded, her voice carrying the authority of a woman who had been pride matriarch for decades. “I felt the disturbance through our bond, but?—”
“Damian kidnapped Camille,” Leander said simply, his arm coming around his mate’s waist in a gesture that was both protective and grounding. “And I killed him.”
Helena’s face went still, though Camille caught something that looked almost like relief flickering in her expression. “I wondered if this day would come,” she murmured. “The challenge between you two was never truly settled, was it?”
“My parents arranged it,” Camille said, the words bitter on her tongue. “They told Damian to convince me by any means necessary to choose him over Leander. To live the life they wanted instead of the one I’d chosen for myself.”
The older woman’s composure cracked, genuine shock replacing her careful control. “Your own parents orchestrated your kidnapping?”
“They saw it as intervention,” Camille replied, surprised by how steady her voice sounded. “One final attempt to make me compliant.”
Helena’s expression hardened in ways that reminded Camille exactly whose son Leander was. “You shouldn’t speak to them again. They’re deeply unhealthy people who see you as property rather than a person.”
“I don’t plan to,” Camille admitted. The decision felt lighter than she’d expected, like setting down a burden she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying. “After today, I’m done with people who think love comes with conditions.”
Helena’s face softened, and she reached out to cup Camille’s cheek with maternal gentleness. “Good. You deserve so much better than what they gave you.”
“Both of you need to rest,” Helena continued, shifting back into caretaker mode as she guided them toward the front door. “Get cleaned up, tend those wounds properly. I’ll make dinner later, but right now recovery is the priority.”
“Thank you,” Camille said, meaning it more than the simple words could convey. “For everything.”
The guest room felt different when they entered it—less like a temporary refuge and more like a sanctuary they’d fought to reach. Camille hadn’t expected to return so soon, and certainly not under such circumstances, but being here with Leander felt like the only place in the world she wanted to be.
He sat heavily on the edge of the four-poster bed, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion that went beyond physical fatigue. The mate bond carried echoes of his emotional state—relief tangled with residual fury, love layered over protective instincts that still hadn’t fully settled.
