Cash's POV
A palpable unease clung to the fortress, thick and cloying like grave dust. My boots echoed Cash's heavy tread against the ancient stone as I stalked through the corridors, a storm barely leashed. The bond between Lilian and me thrummed under my skin, a restless, sharp ache.
She was too far. I could feel it in the marrow of my bones. No danger yet, but a tautness stretched so thin it threatened to snap. Something dark was rising, a tide of malice I could taste in the air. I wanted to find her, to haul her close and tuck her against my side where nothing, no blade, no betrayal could ever touch her. But she wouldn't allow it. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
I scrubbed a hand through my hair, jaw clenched until it throbbed. The council's simmering anger was like a viper coiled in the grass, ready to strike. Elizabeth's spite was a blade pressed against my kingdom's throat, a constant, grating threat. And now, somewhere in the fortress's twisting guts, enemies moved like shadows, patient and predatory, waiting.
A low growl rumbled in my chest, sharp and feral. They thought they could touch her? They thought wrong. They would learn the meaning of pain.
Then, a faint scream shattered the night; a fragile sound ripped through the suffocating tension. I was already running before I consciously registered it. The west wing. Where the rogues slept. Where Lilian
My wolf surged, snapping its chains, demanding release. I rounded a corner just in time to see the first traitor a cloaked figure with a blade drawn charging down the hall toward a half-open door. Lilian's door.
Rage exploded inside me, blinding and brutal. It was a physical thing, a roaring inferno that threatened to consume me whole. I hit the man like a freight train, slamming him into the stone wall hard enough to crack it. Bone crunched under my fists, a satisfying, sickening sound. The assassin sagged, unconscious or dead. I didn't care. He dared threaten what was mine.
I wrenched the door open
.
And found Lilian already fighting. She moved like a storm, a blur of fists and fury, her blade flashing in the dim light. There were three of them. Too many. Not for her, but still… my heart clenched.
She ducked a wild swing, drove her elbow into one attacker's gut with a grunt, spun, and slashed a second across the face. Blood sprayed the walls, painting the ancient stone with crimson. My heart nearly tore itself out of my chest with pride. Mine.
But even warriors fall. One of the cloaked figures grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms. She struggled, snarling, her wolf flashing in her eyes a wild, untamed creature mirroring my own.
I moved without thought, driven by instinct alone. I crossed the room in a blink, tearing the man off her with a roar that shook the stones. The traitor hit the floor hard – but not hard enough. My wolf surged, ripping free, snapping bones, and stretching muscles. A partial shift – claws, teeth, strength, barely contained. Not full. Not yet. Not unless Lilian was threatened again. Then, I would unleash the beast entirely.
The last attacker hesitated, eyes wide with terror. I bared my teeth, a silent promise of agonizing pain. Run. Please. I want to chase you.
The man bolted, disappearing into the shadows. Smart. Cash would deal with him later.
I turned back to Lilian. She stood braced against the far wall, blood dripping from a cut on her cheek, her breathing ragged. Fierce. Proud. Wounded. A snarl tore from my throat.
She sagged slightly against the wall, swaying. Not badly hurt but hurt enough.
I crossed the space between us in two long strides. She tried to straighten, to push me away, but I caught her gently, carefully my arms wrapping around her more petite frame.
She stiffened against me, trembling with adrenaline. "I'm fine," she rasped against my chest, her voice a rough whisper.
"Bullshit," I growled, tightening my hold.
She shoved at me weakly, her strength failing. I didn't let go. Not yet. Her hands fisted in my shirt, pulling and pushing all at once. Her body was soft and warm against mine, her scent a living thing wrapping around me, seeping into my skin a heady mix of wildflowers and steel.
I buried my face in her hair for half a second, breathing her in, grounding myself that she was alive. Safe. For now. I pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at her.
Our faces were inches apart. Her green eyes blazed up at me, defiant, furious, terrified, not of me, not of herself, not of what she was feeling, the undeniable pull that resonated between us.
I cupped her cheek, thumb brushing the blood away. The touch burned us both, a spark igniting a wildfire. Lilian's lips parted on a shaky inhale.
I leaned in not kissing, not quite. My forehead touched hers, light and trembling with restraint. "I told you," I whispered, voice low and wrecked. "You don't fight alone anymore."
A shudder tore through her. Her fingers tightened in my shirt, clinging. The world narrowed to just us the blood cooling on the floor, the smell of steel, and fear and fire fading away. Only this. Only her. Only us.
I could feel her heartbeat pounding against my chest a frantic drumbeat echoing my own. I wanted to close the distance, to taste her, to claim her, to brand her as mine for all the world to see. But I didn't. Not yet.
Instead, I stayed still offering. Waiting.
Lilian pulled back slowly; her green eyes dark with things she didn't have words for yet. "You make it very hard to keep hating you," she muttered, her voice barely audible.
I smiled – slow, dangerous. "Good."
The faintest flicker of a smile tugged at her mouth before she killed it; that small sign of affection was enough to send my wolf purring. "You're impossible."
"And you're mine."
Her eyes snapped to mine, fury and heat flaring. "I'm not—"
"You are," I said simply, my voice leaving no room for argument. "You just haven't accepted it yet."
Her breath hitched, caught in her throat. Then before either of us could say something we'd regret footsteps pounded down the hall. Backup. Late, as usual.
I stepped back reluctantly, my body screaming in protest at the loss of contact. I caught her hand before she could retreat, pressing something cold and hard into her palm.
She looked down. A silver dagger the one I'd always kept strapped to my thigh. The one I never gave to anyone.
"You fight with me now," I said, my gaze unwavering. "Not behind me. Beside me."
Her fingers curled around the hilt instinctively as if it belonged there. For a heartbeat, just one – she looked at me like she could see me. Not the king. Not the wolf. Just the man.
Then she tucked the dagger against her hip and squared her shoulders, her expression hardening into a mask of determination. "Beside you," she said quietly, her voice filled with a newfound resolve.
My chest tightened almost painfully. It was the closest thing to a promise I'd ever been given.
I would fight for it. I would fight for her. For us. No matter what it costs. No matter how many bodies I had to put in the ground to make it happen.
And gods help anyone who thought they could take her from me. Because I would burn this whole fucking world to ash first. The thought was a vow etched in blood, a promise I would keep if it was the last thing I did.