His voice is a whip-crack of alpha command. Not directed at me, but at the guards lining the walls.
They scatter immediately. I hear them practically running from the throne room, the heavy doors slamming shut behind them.
I’m on my feet before I can think, fury overriding my omega response. “How DARE you?”
He moves.
One second he’s ten feet away. The next he’s in front of me, grabbing me, pulling me down from the dais.
Then he sits on my throne,my throne, and drags me into his lap.
“What the fuck do you think you’re…”
He cuts me off with his mouth on mine.
The kiss is brutal. Claiming. His hand fists in my hair, holding me in place while his tongue forces its way past my lips. He tastes like wild things and dominance and mine mine mine. Good… so good! Like coming home. Like clear, fresh water. Like the sweetest, ripe fruit. Like happiness and freedom, and every fucking thing good in the whole wide world.
So instead of biting him, fighting, scratching, making him bleed… I moan into his mouth, my body melting against hismassive chest, my omega absolutely losing her mind with pure fucking bliss.
When he finally pulls back, I’m panting. Dizzy. Slick soaking through my undergarments.
He looks at me with those pale, predatory eyes and growls: “You’re mine, omega. And you know it.”
My mouth opens to deny it. To snap something cold and cutting. To reclaim my control.
But the words won’t come.
Because he’s right. I do know it.
I’m fucked.
Two
Callum
I’ve tracked rogue shifters across three kingdoms. Hunted creatures that would give seasoned warriors nightmares. Survived battles that left me with more scars than unmarked skin.
But nothing…nothing…has ever hit me as hard as the scent that floods my lungs the second I walk into Queen Hilda’s throne room.
Omega.
Not just any omega. My omega. Our omega.
The mate bond slams into me like a boulder, and I have to lock my knees to keep from dropping right there on the marble floor. My wolf surges, howling MINE MINE MINE so loud I can barely hear anything else.
She’s sitting on her throne, all icy beauty and regal power.Wearing a gown that shows off curves that make my mouth water and my cock instantly hard. I want to mark her skin with my teeth… Her full lips are moving, saying something I can’t process because all my blood has rushed south.
She’s fucking gorgeous.
And she’s mine.
I force myself to focus, to listen to what she’s saying.
“…task for you, huntsman.”
Her voice is cold. Dismissive. She’s a woman of few words. Her tone is direct and lethal. The kind that’s probably made lesser men piss themselves.
It just makes me harder.
