Lucian didn't speak as he dragged me from the tower.
Not one word.
His fingers wrapped around my wrist like iron shackles, pulling me down stone corridors lit by roaring torches, the scent of blood and smoke choking the air.
The entire rogue kingdom gathered outside — a sea of wild, snarling wolves in human form, chanting, pounding fists against the earth.
Queen! Queen! Queen!
But it wasn't a celebration.
It was a warning.
Lucian threw me to my knees before the ancient stone altar at the heart of the square.
I looked up at him — at the man I had once dreamed would save me.
There was no savior left in him.
Only a king — savage, crowned in blood.
"You belong to no other," Lucian growled, his voice carrying over the howling crowd. "You belong to me."
He tore open his palm with a claw, dark blood dripping down his wrist.
Then he grabbed my hand — and sliced mine open too.
I gasped as our blood mingled, sizzling on the ancient stone, a violent, primal bond forming between us.
Not the gentle mate bond I'd once imagined.
This was war.
This was slavery.
This was love, twisted until it bled.
Lucian yanked me to my feet and crushed his mouth to mine in front of them all — a brutal, claiming kiss that ripped the air from my lungs.
He kissed me like he needed my soul to breathe.
Like he needed my destruction to survive.
I fought him — pounding fists against his chest, shoving, biting — and he growled with pleasure, deep and broken, gripping my hips so tight I swore I'd bruise.
"You hate me," he rasped against my mouth. "Good. Hate keeps you alive."
I slapped him across the face.
The crowd roared.
Lucian only smiled — blood staining his teeth — before hauling me against him again, devouring me.
He tasted like war.
He tasted like ruin.
He tasted like home.
Later, in the darkness of his chambers, Lucian didn't touch me like a man.
He touched me like a wolf claiming his mate by force of will alone.
He stripped the crimson dress from my body with slow, ruthless hands — tearing the fabric so it fluttered like blood in the candlelight.
"You think you can deny this," he whispered, lips tracing the hollow of my throat. "You think you can fight fate."
I gasped, trembling beneath him, fury and need and terror tearing me apart.
"You are my fate," he snarled. "You are my fucking curse."
His mouth slammed into mine again — deeper, hungrier, desperate.
He kissed me like a punishment.
Like a prayer.
Like an execution.
When he finally pulled back, his golden eyes burned into mine — wild, shattered, desperate.
"Run," Lucian whispered.
I blinked.
"What?"
He brushed his knuckles over my cheek, so gently it broke me.
"Run from me, Seraphina," he said. "Before I destroy what little of you is left."
Tears blurred my vision.
"I'm already ruined," I whispered.
Lucian closed his eyes like my words had killed him.
When he opened them again, there was no mercy left.
Only hunger.
Only fire.
Only us.
And when he kissed me again, it was the beginning of the end.