Chapter 21

POV: Theron

Kazzar stood at the cliff’s edge, hands outstretched, his fingers dancing through the thick morning air like he was painting something invisible.

Illusion spells weren’t perfect.

They shimmered around the edges if you looked too close. But in the fog rolling down from the valley, they’d be just real enough.

Ten figures—soldiers on horseback—rode silently into the clearing below. All of them false. All of them born from Kazzar’s magic.

They were our distraction.

The bait.

The entire coven would see them charging toward the southern gates and think it was our full assault. They’d pour their power into that fight. Into defending what they thought was the front.

And that would be our opening.

Kazzar’s hands dropped slowly. His breathing steadied.

“It’s done,” he said. “They’ll see the ghosts.”

My heart thudded in my chest.

This was the moment.

The moment everything we believed, everything we studied, everything I felt—either proved true or led us into a trap.

Because this wasn’t just a hunch.

This was me.

My instincts.

My bond.

My wolf’s aching cry in the night that told me she’s here.

She had to be.

We moved in silence—me, my parents, and the ten elite warriors we’d handpicked for this.

Caelum led the first stretch, blade drawn, eyes sharp, every step calculated like a predator in perfect control.

Gavriel flanked us, steady and quiet, already watching the terrain for weaknesses, threats, cover.

And me?

I walked with fire in my lungs and lightning crawling just beneath my skin.

Every inch we moved closer, my wolf clawed harder inside me. Restless. Angry. Awake.

It wasn’t full yet. It wasn’t ready.

But gods, it was close.

The deeper we moved into the western side of the mountain, the more I could feel it.

Magic.

Dark and twisted.

Thick in the air like the smoke of burning bone.

And beneath that—

Her.

Her scent.

Her pain.

Her magic—flickering, but still alive.

We reached the edge of the ceremonial chamber just as the first shockwave of magic burst in the far clearing—Kazzar’s illusions clashing with their wards.

The witches screamed.

An alarm rose through the air.

They’d taken the bait.

Caelum nodded once, signaling the warriors behind us. “Go.”

And we moved.

Fast. Silent. Straight into the heart of the coven.

Every step through the stone tunnels felt like wading through something thick and ancient. I could hear chanting echoing through the walls, taste the metallic sting of blood in the air.

And then—

I saw her.

Gods.

Mireya.

The world stopped.

The battle faded.

The rage. The fear. The noise.

It all disappeared.

Because she was there—at the center of a circle of blood and fire and ancient death magic. Naked and bruised and glowing, even under the layers of pain and rune-burned skin.

Chains bound her wrists.

Blood trickled from her collarbone.

Her head was bowed—but the second I stepped into the chamber, her eyes lifted.

And she saw me.

For the first time in days.

And gods help me—

She smiled.

Just a flicker.

Just a breath.

But it was enough to level me.

“Mireya,” I breathed.

My voice cracked like something inside me was splitting.

I didn’t wait for orders. I didn’t wait for tactics.

I moved.

Straight for her.

Straight into the circle.

Straight into the storm.

The moment I stepped into the circle, the world exploded.

A blast of silver heat erupted from the runes surrounding Mireya—pushing me back like a punch to the chest.

Wards.

Spells.

A ritual in its final breath.

And at its center—

Her.

Mireya’s body shook, every muscle taut as energy surged through the runes carved into her skin. Her blood fed the circle. Her magic burned in the stone.

Albaneya stood just beyond her, arms raised high, eyes glowing with black flame.

“She’s mine,” she hissed. “She was always mine.”

And the witches—

They came screaming.

Spells flew. Fire burst. The scent of blood turned metallic and thick. Wolves shifted mid-air, landing with bone-crushing fury. Magic clashed with claws. Screams echoed down the stone halls.

The illusions Kazzar had sent to the southern gate had vanished—and the witches had realized they’d been tricked.

They were furious.

I didn’t care.

All I saw was her.

Mireya’s face twisted in pain, but her eyes—gods, her eyes—never left mine. Wide and wild, filled with agony, and something brighter than rage. Conviction.

Then—she moved.

One of the fallen warriors had dropped a dagger near the edge of the circle.

She saw it.

So did I.

But she was faster.

Her fingers trembled as she reached for it, still chained, still bleeding, and with a cry that shattered something inside me—she carved straight through the rune on her thigh.

Her scream echoed like thunder.

The rune hissed.

The circle cracked.

And something snapped in the air.

“No!” Albaneya shrieked, lunging forward.

But the moment Mireya’s blood splashed onto the wrong part of the circle, the spell faltered.

The link—

The channeling—

It stuttered.

Albaneya staggered, holding her chest like something had been ripped from it.

“You stupid, broken girl,” she spat. “You don’t know what you’ve done.”

But she did.

Mireya’s head fell back for a second, blood running in rivers down her legs—from the new wound and the ones they’d already opened.

But her voice—gods—her voice didn’t waver.

“I’m not yours,” she whispered. “I never was.”

Then—chaos.

Another witch, one who had stayed hidden, rose from the outer edge of the circle. I saw the twist of her fingers, the sharp green gleam of a curse forming—aimed not at Mireya.

At Eve.

“Mother—!” I shouted, moving—

But Mireya saw it too.

With no hesitation, no thought of herself, she lunged.

Still chained, still weak, she threw herself toward the witch. Her fingers caught the length of chain that bound her wrists—twisted it—and looped it hard around the witch’s throat.

The spell never landed.

The witch gasped, magic crackling and dying in her hands. Mireya twisted the chain tighter, her whole body shaking with the effort.

“Don’t you dare touch her,” she snarled. “She’s my family.”

The witch crumpled beneath her weight, sputtering as the chain crushed deeper.

“I’m not one of you,” Mireya spat, every word like a blade. “I’ll never be one of you again.”

The circle collapsed.

The spell broke.

The witches scattered—screaming, panicked, retreating into the shadows.

The witches surged forward, driven by rage and broken magic.

I moved like lightning.

Blade in one hand, dagger in the other, my wolf howling just beneath my skin.

The first witch came at me with a spell crackling like electricity—I ducked under it, slashed through her throat with clean precision, spun, and kept moving.

Another raised her hand—fire spell.

I threw my dagger. It hit her between the eyes.

I didn’t stop.

I moved through them like a storm.

Like fire with a heartbeat.

They tried to flank me, two on either side—one casting, the other with a silver blade.

I caught the caster with a gut-level strike and turned to block the blade with mine.

Sparks flew.

My arms ached. My lungs burned. But nothing would keep me from her.

I felt her pain like it was my own. Her blood on the stone. Her magic unraveling.

And I was going to reach her—or die trying.

“Theron!” Gavriel’s voice echoed over the chaos.

I turned in time to see him strike down a witch lunging for my back, his movements fluid and lethal, eyes blazing with that steady warrior calm.

To my right, Caelum fought like a force of nature—barely shifted, but powerful enough to knock witches off their feet with sheer presence. Magic slid off his skin like water. He was a wall. A weapon.

And behind him—Eve.

My mother burned gold.

Her magic wrapped around her like flame, her wolf half-shifted, her claws glowing. Every spell thrown at her turned to ash. She moved like fury given shape.

They weren’t just fighting.

They were protecting her.

Protecting Mireya.

I finally reached her.

I got to Mireya before she fell.\

Dropped to my knees beside her.

She was shaking, barely conscious. Her skin was ghost-pale, her pulse fluttering under her jaw.

She sagged into my arms, blood soaking her dress, her skin pale and shining with sweat.

But her eyes still held that fire.

And when I whispered, “You saved her,”

She looked at me—eyes glassy, voice thin—and said, “I saved us.”

“Mireya,” I whispered. “Stay with me.”

Her lips parted.

A small, broken sound escaped.

“You came,” she said.

“I always will.”

Her chains clattered to the floor as I shattered them with a spell I didn’t even know I knew. My magic pulsed—gold, green, and blue—and the runes recoiled from me.

She fell forward into my arms.

And I held her like she was the only thing left in the world.

Because to me—she was.

“Behind you!”

I turned—too slow.

A witch lunged.

And then—

Boom.

A wave of raw, unnatural force knocked the witch mid-air. Her body hit the far wall.

My magic. Still wild. Still building.

But it wasn’t enough.

They weren’t stopping.

And Mireya—she was fading.

Chapter 22

POV: Theron

Her breathing was too slow.

Too shallow.

I pressed my hands against her wounds, magic burning through my palms as I tried to stop the blood.

“Mireya,” I whispered, again and again like a prayer, like her name was the only thing holding the sky up.

Her eyes fluttered. Her lips were dry. She looked like she was already leaving me.

“No,” I said, my voice cracking. “No, you don’t get to leave. I’m here. I’m here, I’ve got you—just breathe, baby, please breathe—”

A flicker of movement caught my eye.

Across the circle—Albaneya.

Her arms were raised. A spell took shape around her like a storm. Red and black lightning cracked from her fingertips, curling into a column above her head.

It pulsed once.

Twice.

She was going to end this. All of it.

And I saw my parents, Kazzar, the remaining warriors—they were moving in. Ready to stop her. Their bodies tensed. Magic building.

But then—

It happened.

A flash of silver behind Gavriel. A shadow lunging. A witch I hadn’t seen, hidden by the smoke.

I watched it unfold in slow motion.

Gavriel turned a second too late.

The blade went in deep—under his ribs.

His body jerked.

The sound he made—gods, that sound.

But it wasn’t his voice I heard.

It was—

“GAVRIEL!”

My mother’s scream shattered through the battlefield like thunder.

I turned just in time to see him fall.

I saw his eyes first.

Hazel, bright and steady even now. Gavriel’s eyes found mine—just for a breath—then flicked to Caelum, then Eve.

And then… they closed.

His body crumpled.

Like a warrior unstrung.

Like a soul pulled from the battlefield.

My father—my father—hit the ground.

And something inside me… broke.

I couldn’t hear anything.

The battle fell away.

My vision tunneled.

All I could see was him, his chest still, his sword clattering beside him, the shimmer of his magic flickering like a dying star.

My mother dropped beside him, screaming.

Caelum was already shielding them both, tearing into the witch who struck the blow with a roar so deep it shook the walls.

And I—

I couldn’t move.

Because all I saw was my father.

Lying still.

The man who had been my anchor in every storm, the calm in every fire, the steady hands that taught me how to hold a blade without trembling.

Gone.

Gone.

A sound tore from my throat, but I didn’t recognize it.

It was grief.

It was panic.

It was rage.

It was the moment I feared most, swallowing me whole.

I looked down at Mireya, unconscious, bleeding, her body limp in my arms—and it was too much. Too much.

My mate bleeding.

My father dying.

Hope crushed like ash between my hands.

I felt it crack inside me.

The pressure. The magic. The storm.

My wolf opened his eyes.

I don’t remember standing.

I don’t remember letting her go—only that I laid her down gently, like she was made of glass and everything inside me was shattering.

My hands trembled.

My chest split.

My lungs couldn’t hold breath. My heart couldn’t hold grief.

Something snapped—loud and final—and I fell to my knees.

My scream shook the stone.

It wasn’t a word.

It wasn’t even human.

It was rage given sound.

It was grief with fangs.

And then it happened.

The thing I’d feared.

The thing I’d longed for.

My shift.

I had seen wolves shift my entire life—my mother’s graceful flash of gold, my father’s lightning-fast transformations, my other father’s terrifying, perfect control.

But nothing—nothing—could have prepared me for what it felt like to shift for the first time.

It wasn’t natural. It wasn’t easy.

It was birth through fire.

My body wasn’t just changing. It was becoming.

Becoming something ancient.

Something that had always been me and yet so far beyond what I thought I was.

He wasn’t just waking.

He was being forged.

My spine arched.

Bones cracked.

Muscles stretched.

Magic poured from my skin like molten light—gold, green, and blue—merging, pulsing, roaring to life.

My vision blurred. My senses ignited.

Pain exploded across my ribs, my limbs—then was gone, replaced by something stronger.

Something more.

My fingers became claws.

My scream became a howl.

And I understood.

I was never broken.

Never cursed.

Never weak.

I was becoming.

I was born for this.

When I stood—on four massive paws—I towered over them all.

Even Caelum.

Even Gavriel.

The chamber stilled.

The witches turned.

And they saw not just a wolf.

They saw the wolf.

The heir to three bloodlines.

The prophecy in flesh.

Magic incarnate.

I wasn’t a beast.

I wasn’t even a prince.

I was the storm.

And I was done being afraid.

Now they would learn what happens when you hurt what I love.

Albaneya turned to me.

And for the first time since I’d seen her—she looked afraid.

Not calculating. Not cruel. Not gleaming with power.

Just afraid.

She staggered back, her black robes whipping around her, red and silver magic sparking wildly from her fingertips.

“No,” she rasped. “No—this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

She looked at me like she was seeing something ancient. Something that didn’t belong in this world.

Something the witches tried to erase from history.

Me.

“You were never meant to live,” she spat, voice shaking. “The bloodlines were never supposed to merge—”

But they did.

I am the prophecy.

And now?

She couldn’t contain it.

Not my wolf.

Not my magic.

Not me.

And then it happened again.

It started in my chest—

a deep, burning pulse—

and I felt it reach out, like my very soul stretched across the battlefield, ripped from my ribs and flung toward the one thing that mattered.

It wasn’t just magic.

It was her.

It was everything inside me that had been boiling, choking, begging to break free since the moment I first saw her—

now unleashed in one unstoppable, explosive burst.

Like I’d opened a door I didn’t know existed—

and behind it was instinct, and need, and love so raw it hurt.

If I had loved her before, this was something more.

Ten thousand times more.

It was overwhelming.

It consumed every inch of my soul.

And it went straight to her.

To Mireya.

She gasped.

Her body curled inward, blood still wet between her thighs, her breath a ragged choke—

And then her eyes snapped open.

Red.

Glowing.

Wild.

Her magic flared like lightning.

And I knew—

I knew she was feeling it too.

The bond.

Real.

Raw.

Unbreakable.

Her wolf surged forward, woken from the prison the witches had buried her in.

And mine—my wolf—he moved without asking.

He reached through me and gave her everything.

Magic leapt from my body to hers—

gold, green, blue—

pouring into her like a storm into a broken dam.

Her body cracked.

Glowed.

And then—transformed.

Her wolf burst from her skin in a wave of burning red fire, sleek and wild and furious.

She leapt to my side, growling. Her flank pressed to mine.

Our noses touched—

and a shock of magic ricocheted between us, so powerful she staggered.

Mate.

My wolf howled for her.

And hers howled back.

She’d been dying.

And the mate bond saved her.

Her wolf was free. She was free.

She was finally whole.

But it wasn’t over.

Not yet.

Because Albaneya—bleeding, desperate, furious—lifted her arms one last time, and screamed a spell that tore through the air like thunder.

It came for me like a storm.

I felt my mother cry out.

Caelum growl.

Mireya stiffen beside me.

I thought it was over.

I thought the final spell would take me.

But when it struck me—

it fizzled into smoke.

Didn’t even scratch me.

Because my magic—my very existence—was a shield now.

She couldn’t touch me.

Not anymore.

We locked eyes.

And I ran.

My paws hit stone—

fast, steady, deadly.

She cast again. And again.

But every curse shattered against me like water on steel.

She turned to run.

She tried to scream one last word—

But I was already there.

I sank my fangs into her throat.

Her scream became a gurgle.

And I tore her head clean from her shoulders.

Her body dropped, limp.

And when it did—

so did the last of the witches’ power.

The circle shattered.

The runes burned away.

The darkness cracked and vanished.

Only a few witches remained—and our warriors tore through them.

When it ended…

I stood in the middle of it all.

Covered in blood.

My mate beside me.

The coven gone.

But not everyone was safe.

Because then—

I remembered him.

Gavriel.

The battlefield stank of blood and fire, but I could smell him through it.

And gods—

I could smell his blood.

My wolf turned, slowly, every step heavy like iron.

And I saw him.

Lying there.

Still.

Mireya’s wolf pressed to my side—my anchor when my world shattered.

But all reason drained from me.

Gavriel was dying.

Chapter 23

POV: Theron

Gavriel was dying.

The man who taught me how to fight.

Who taught me what honor was.

Who never let go of my hand as a boy—

Was dying.

My father—was dying.

I reached him.

His body was pale. Still.

But his chest… moved.

Just enough.

Barely.

“Dad,” I whispered in my mind still in my wolf form. “No. Please—no…”

Panic hit like a blade to the chest.

Eve sobbed beside him, clutching his hand. Caelum was kneeling, face cracked open with grief and rage.

“No,” I said, over and over in my thoughts.

“No, no, no—he can’t—he can’t be gone—”

My wolf pressed his nose to Gavriel’s chest, desperate.

And I did the only thing I could do.

I gave him everything.

I forced every ounce of power I had into him—

all of it.

I didn’t know what I was doing. I just felt.

The magic—my magic—rushed from me, gold and green and blue, wrapping around his body, reaching into every broken place and restoring.

His magic—blue, soft and still—lit faintly beneath mine.

And I realized—

I was part of him.

And he was part of me.

I begged the Moon Goddess in my mind. Pleaded. Prayed.

Please… please… don’t take him from us.

And then— A flash of light, of power leave me, and went straight to him, my magic filling him.

He breathed.

Deep.

Full.

His chest rose again.

And again.

Then—

His eyes opened.

It was over.

The air still smelled like blood and smoke and fire, but the screams had stopped. The ground wasn’t shaking anymore. And the silence that settled over the battlefield wasn’t peace—it was shock.

My father.

Alive.

I could feel his breathing. Feel his heartbeat through my hands.

I looked up—eyes burning, breath wrecked—and I saw them.

Caelum and Eve dropping down to his side. My mother let out a sob that shattered something inside me all over again as she touched his face with both hands. Caelum pressed a kiss to his forehead.

My parents held him like a prayer answered.

And I—

I let myself collapse back.

The strength left my limbs.

My wolf, still massive and wild, stood a moment longer, then let out a slow, exhausted breath… and shifted.

The shift wasn’t violent this time.

It was like the storm had passed, and now the sun could rise.

I blinked through the haze of it, breath fogging in the cooling air.

I shifted back, gasping. My body cracked, bloodied, bones snapping as I landed beside him in human form.

I pressed my hands to his chest.

I laughed.

A broken, breathless laugh full of tears.

“You scared the shit out of me,” I choked out.

He smiled—weak, blood on his teeth—but alive.

“You finally shifted.”

I nodded, brushing at the tears that wouldn’t stop.

He reached up with shaking fingers and touched my cheek.

“And you saved us all.”

And then—

Her.

Mireya.

Still in her wolf form, she turned to me. Red fur glowing in the dim light, her body strong and whole. Her eyes found mine, and there it was again—that electric pull, that soul-deep knowing.

She walked to me, slowly.

And shifted.

Right there in front of me.

And gods—

She was beautiful.

She knelt on the stone floor, naked and glowing. Her red hair fell over her shoulders in waves, and her skin—clean.Smooth. Not a scar on her. The runes that had once tortured her body were gone.

Her wolf had healed her.

Not just the skin.

All of her.

I stared.

I couldn’t move.

I felt the mate bond like it had wrapped around my ribs and tugged—tight and relentless and whole. It was raw now. Unmasked. Complete.

Desire hit me like a punch to the chest.

But it wasn’t just that.

It was love.

It was need.

I stood, legs trembling from everything we’d just lived through.

And I walked to her.

We didn’t speak.

Not yet.

Because her eyes were already filling with tears. Because my hand lifted on instinct, and I brushed a red curl from her face. And when my fingers touched her skin—

She leaned into it.

Like she’d been waiting for that one touch all her life.

I cupped her face, my thumb sweeping across her cheek.

“You’re okay,” I breathed.

She nodded.

“You saved me.”

“No,” I said softly. “We saved each other.”

And then—

We kissed.

There was no urgency in it. No hunger.

Not yet.

It was slow. Gentle.

Our lips met like the end of a long ache. Like a coming home. Like everything inside me that had been sharp and wounded had just… settled.

Her hands slid up my chest, and my arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close.

Gods, she fit against me. Like we’d been carved from the same soul.

When we finally pulled apart, she rested her forehead against mine.

“I didn’t think I’d get to see you again,” she whispered.

“You’re never losing me,” I murmured. “Not in this life. Not in the next.”

She smiled, soft and broken and real.

Behind us, I heard my parents rising. Gavriel’s voice, faint but steady. My mother’s laughter, watery with tears. Caelum giving orders to secure the ground.

But all I could see—

all I could feel—

was her.

My mate.

My miracle.

My Mireya.

And this?

This was just the beginning.

I didn’t know how to feel.

Stepping back into the packhouse felt like stepping into a dream I wasn’t sure I’d wake from. My body ached in places I didn’t even know I had muscles. My magic still buzzed under my skin like lightning without a storm. I had shifted. I had killed. I had saved my father.

And Mireya…

My mate was alive.

She was whole.

She was mine.

I held her hand like I would never let go. Like letting go might send us both spinning back into that hell.

Eve and Caelum flanked Gavriel, holding him upright even though he kept swearing he was fine. My mother didn’t even pretend to believe him—she marched him straight to Kazzar and the magical healers, her hands cradling his face like she still didn’t believe he was breathing.

They left us in the entry hall, and for the first time since the battlefield, it was just us.

Mireya and me.

She still had the blanket around her shoulders, loose from the shift. Her skin glowed in the golden light filtering through the window—hair damp from sweat and magic, cheeks flushed, eyes so deep and dark they swallowed me whole.

Gods.

I wanted her.

But not just her body.

Her laugh I hadn’t really heard yet.

Her sleepy face in the morning light.

The way she looked at me now, like I was her home.

“Come on,” I said softly, squeezing her hand. “Let’s get out of this blanket before someone else sees us naked again.”

She huffed a quiet laugh—small, still shaky—but it was real. And she followed me up the stairs to my room.

Our room now.

The moment the door closed behind us, everything shifted.

The air.

The gravity.

It was just us. Naked. Raw. Mate bond alive between us, pulsing.

I turned to face her slowly.

She looked so unsure suddenly, like she wasn’t sure what came next.

So I crossed the space between us and gently cupped her face with both hands. My thumb brushed across her cheek, sweeping a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You’re real,” I whispered.

“So are you,” she said, her voice trembling.

I leaned in and pressed my forehead to hers. Her breath hitched.

“You’re safe now. You’re mine,” I whispered. “And you’re free.”

Chapter 24

POV: Theron

Tears burned the back of my throat. She nodded, and I felt the tremble in her chest.

“And you are mine,” she said—her voice full of the emotion I felt echoing in my own chest.

I kissed her.

Gods, I kissed her.

And everything stopped.

The rest of the world dropped away, burned away, bled away.

There was only her.

Our lips moved slow—mine starting, hers following—then deeper. Hungrier. She tilted her head back and I drank her in, with all the hunger, the love, the fear that I could lose her again.

My hands found her waist.

Hers, my chest.

The blanket slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her feet like it had never belonged on something so sacred. Mine followed. We stood there, bare to each other.

She was glowing.

Her skin warmed beneath my palms as I touched her—shoulders, waist, the curve of her hip. Every brush of my fingers made her gasp, arch, tremble. My cock hardened instantly, my body screaming for her, needing her in a way that felt older than time itself.

I couldn’t stop touching her. Like if I let go, she’d vanish again.

Her fingers tangled in my hair. Her chest pressed to mine. And her scent—gods, her scent—wrapped around me.

Sweet.

Strong.

Mine.

I wanted her right there. My instincts screamed to take her, to mark her, to sink into her and never let go.

And still—still—there was gentleness. That instinct to go slow. To worship.

I lifted her.

Carried her to the bed like she was made of moonlight and magic.

Laid her down. And when she smiled up at me, I kissed her again. Deeper this time. Possessive. My hand slid down her side, and she shivered under my touch. My cock pressed against her thigh, hard and aching.

At the same time, I wanted her more than anything I wasn’t certain If I would do this right, good for her.

I kissed down her neck, her collarbone. My hands cupped her breasts, and when I dragged my tongue across one nipple, she arched into me like she couldn’t help herself.

She moaned my name, and I almost lost my mind.

I sucked, licked, teased until her body writhed beneath mine—and I was starving for her. My mouth traveled lower, over her ribs, her stomach, her hips. I wanted to make her scream. I wanted her to fall apart for me.

And just as my lips brushed her—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Theron!” my mother’s voice rang through the door. “Kazzar needs to see you both. Something about the magic. He says it can’t wait!”

We froze.

Mireya let out a breathy, half-laugh, half-growl, and flopped back on the bed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I groaned, burying my face in her neck. “She has the worst timing.”

“You think she knows?”

“She absolutely knows.”

Mireya bit her lip, flushed and glowing, eyes still dark with want. “We should go…”

“In a second,” I murmured, kissing her jaw. “Just give me one more minute of you.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

I stayed there, holding her, breathing her in. I kissed her again—slowly, reverently, like a promise.

And I knew.

Nothing—not even ancient magic—was stronger than this.

Than us.

I didn’t want to let go of Mireya’s hand.

Not after everything.

We walked through the quiet halls of the magic headquarters—her fingers in mine, both of us freshly dressed in soft linen clothes one of the healers had brought. Simple. Clean. But it felt like armor. A second skin. Because we were walking into a new chapter of our lives, and I could still feel the mate bond pulsing between us like a second heartbeat.

Kazzar stood near the runic circle, hands glowing faint with residual power as he checked over my father. Gavriel was sitting now, Eve tucked protectively at his side, Caelum standing behind them like a wall of strength.

My father was alive.

That truth still hadn’t fully sunk in. I had brought him back. My wolf. My magic. Us.

Kazzar looked up as we entered.

His eyes landed on us—on the bond that tied us—and for the first time since the battle, I saw him truly smile.

“There you are,” he said softly. “Come closer. I want to see something.”

Mireya’s fingers tightened around mine. She was nervous. I could feel it.

“It’s okay,” I whispered, brushing her knuckles with my thumb. “I’ve got you.”

Kazzar moved toward us, lifting his hand. Magic bloomed in his palm, a warm shimmer of gold that pulsed as it neared us.

And then—

It exploded.

Not violently, but like a rush of light pouring outward. The glow from our bond hit his spell like water to fire, engulfing it and flaring bright.

Kazzar’s breath caught.

“Ancient power…” he whispered. “Alive and awake.”

He circled slowly around us, muttering spells under his breath, studying the way our magic danced. “I’ve only read of this. Only dreamed of it. But I never thought I’d see it—not in my lifetime.”

He looked at me, his eyes glassy with reverence.

“You are not just your parents’ son, Theron. You are their heir. But more than that—you are the convergence. You are what magic has been waiting for. And gods above, I’m so damn glad it’s you.”

I didn’t know what to say.

I just stood there, chest tight, jaw clenched, staring at this man who had known me since I was a boy—who had never treated me like less, even when I couldn’t shift.

And now he looked at me like I was a legend.

“Shift,” he said quietly. “Let me see him.”

I swallowed hard and nodded.

Mireya stepped back, and I pulled off the simple tunic I wore. My skin already shimmered with traces of gold and green and blue, the magic never quite fading anymore.

And then—I let go.

The shift hit hard, but this time I welcomed it.

My body stretched, cracked, transformed. My wolf burst free with a roar that shook the floor.

I stood tall—towering. Bigger than anything in that room. My fur shimmered like a thousand stars—green and gold and blue, my heritage alive in every strand.

Kazzar stared up at me, awestruck.

“Gods,” he breathed. “The first time I’ve ever stood in the presence of a First Wolf in the flesh.”

I bowed my head slightly, unsure why, but it felt… right.

Kazzar turned to Mireya. “Now you, girl. I need to be sure the curse is truly gone.”

She hesitated. I felt her anxiety through the bond—what if something went wrong? What if the witches had hidden something deeper?

But I nuzzled her with my snout, gently, and she looked up at me with a breathless kind of smile. “Okay,” she whispered. “I trust you.”

She stepped back.

Removed the linen tunic.

And shifted.

Her wolf was crimson flame—smaller than mine, but radiant. Alive. Free.

She padded over to my side, her body brushing mine, and Kazzar’s spell shimmered to life.

He muttered something under his breath, runes forming in the air around her.

Then he stopped. Silent.

“What is it?” I growled, voice rough even in my wolf’s mind.

Kazzar looked up, and his eyes were wet.

“It’s gone,” he whispered. “Every trace of it. Every damn mark. All those runes the witches carved into her… they’re burned out. The potions? Purged.”

He reached out with shaking fingers and pressed a hand to Mireya’s fur.

“You saved her,” he said softly. “Not just her wolf. Her soul.”

My chest swelled with something I couldn’t name. Relief. Gratitude. Love.

Mireya pressed her snout against mine and I closed my eyes.

We were whole.

Finally, whole.

Chapter 25

POV: Theron

I’d fought a war.

I’d killed witches.

I’d shifted for the first time and nearly died saving my father.

But nothing—nothing—prepared me for this.

Standing outside my parents’ office door with my hand frozen mid-knock, wondering if I was actually about to do this.

Gods, Theron. Just go in.

I took a deep breath, knocked once, and pushed open the door.

Caelum and Gavriel were at the table, reviewing maps, discussing border placements and future guard shifts. They both looked up when I entered.

“Hey, son,” Gavriel said with that calm warmth he always carried. “Need something?”

“Yeah,” I said, then immediately regretted it. My throat felt dry. “Um. Can we talk? Privately.”

They exchanged a look.

Caelum raised an eyebrow, leaned back in his chair. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I mean, no. I mean—” I scratched the back of my neck. “This is going to sound stupid.”

Gavriel stood, already moving toward me with concern on his face. “Nothing you ask is stupid, Theron.”

I exhaled hard. “It’s about Mireya.”

Caelum tilted his head, interested now. “Go on.”

“I… we almost…” I cleared my throat. “I mean, we haven’t yet. Fully. And I just—” I groaned. “I have no idea what I’m doing, and I don’t want to screw it up. And I know I could’ve gone to my mom, but I figured she’d cry or give me a ceremonial robe or something, so—”

Caelum snorted.

Gavriel choked on a laugh and turned it into a cough.

“Oh gods,” I muttered. “This was a mistake.”

“Sit,” Caelum said, trying to compose himself.

I sat.

Gavriel sat across from me, folding his arms. “So… you want the sex talk?”

“No, we already had that one, but” I groaned. “I mean, yes. I guess. Just—what if I hurt her? What if I do it wrong? What if she’s scared or I—”

“Theron,” Gavriel said gently, placing a hand on my shoulder. “You won’t hurt her. Do you know why?”

I looked at him.

“Because you care,” he said. “You already love her. You’ve been patient. You’ve been gentle. You’ve put her comfort above your desire. That’s everything.”

Caelum leaned forward. “And trust me—being ‘good’ at sex isn’t about technique. It’s about instinct. Connection. Presence. You listen to her. You watch her. You feel her. The rest takes care of itself.”

“I fumbled the first time I touched your mother,” Gavriel added with a wry smile. “She nearly kicked me off the bed.”

“And I did fall off the bed,” Caelum said, smirking.

I blinked. “Wait. You both—?”

“The mate bond was screaming through me, but I was so damn nervous.” Gavriel said.

“And she’d already had sex with Caelum,” he added, shooting my other father a look. “So I felt like I was going to be compared.”

Caelum smirked, not even pretending to be humble. “And I was terrified she’d never want to sleep with me again after Gavriel.”

“But nothing—nothing—compared to the first time we were all together,” Gavriel said, and I swear his ears turned a little red.

My eyes widened. “Wait. You mean—?”

“Oh yeah,” Caelum said with a wicked grin. “How you think happened to have two fathers?”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” I muttered.

“You started it,” Gavriel said, raising an eyebrow. “You walked in here asking for advice, son. This is what that gets you.”

I buried my face in my hands, but… gods, I couldn’t help but laugh.

“I was nervous too,” Caelum added, his tone softening. “Even with all the dominance, all the instinct. We were figuring it out. And honestly? We were just grateful she was alive. That we had her. Both of us. It wasn’t our plan in the beginning but we did because we loved your mother, and that’s the principal part of the sex, the love. If the love it’s there everything feels natural”

Gavriel nodded. “And we weren’t always in perfect harmony. We fought. We doubted. We stumbled. But sex? Real sex? It’s messy. Vulnerable. It’s not supposed to be perfect. It’s supposed to be honest.”

“Passionate,” Caelum added. “And sometimes? Fucking wild.”

“Caelum,” Gavriel said, half-warning.

“What? He’s a grown man. He should know.”

I groaned again, dragging my hands down my face. “Why do I feel like I made a terrible mistake coming here?”

Caelum grinned. “Because you knew exactly what kind of chaos you were stepping into.”

Gavriel leaned forward, his voice gentler now. “Just take your time, Theron. You’ll know when she’s ready. You’ll feel it. The bond will guide you. And when you move with love and trust? It’s… incredible. And it gets even better with time. The more you know each other—the more the connection grows.”

“And if she claws your back open in the middle of it,” Caelum added with a gleam in his eye, “you wear those scars with pride.”

“Oh my gods—”

“Go,” Gavriel said, laughing. “Take a walk. Clear your head. When it’s time, it’ll feel right. Trust your heart. Your instinct. Your love for her. It’s about giving pleasure as much as receiving it.”

“And remember,” Caelum said, raising one finger like he was delivering some ancient sacred truth, “the mate bond makes everything more intense. So if you start glowing mid-thrust? Don’t panic. Totally normal.”

I stood up, shaking my head and backing toward the door. “We are done here.”

They both laughed, their voices echoing down the corridor after me.

And yet… I smiled.

Because yeah, I was still nervous. Still on fire with wanting her. Still terrified I’d mess it up.

But I didn’t feel alone.

I felt steady.

Because I had them.

Because I was theirs.

And when the moment came…

I’d know.

I’d feel it.

And I’d be ready.

I needed air.

After that conversation with my fathers, I felt like my brain had turned to molten fire—too many emotions, too much tension building in my chest, in my blood, in my skin.

I shifted without thinking.

My wolf took over with a surge of magic and instinct, and I ran.

Through the trees. Over the ridge. Past the watchtowers.

Fast. Hard. Focused.

The wind cut against my fur. The earth pulsed beneath my paws. And for the first time since the battle, since the bond fully snapped into place—I felt it all settle.

Not completely.

But enough.

When I shifted back, the sun had nearly set. My skin steamed as I walked toward the training field, and I didn’t stop until my hands were wrapped around a blade, my body moving in rhythmic, vicious strikes.

Sweat poured down my back. My chest heaved. I trained until my muscles screamed, until my thoughts dulled.

And then—I bathed.

Let the hot water burn away what was left of the tension.

I didn’t rush. I didn’t talk to anyone.

And when I finally walked into the dining hall, my hair still damp, wearing the clean black tunic Mireya once said made my arms look insanely good—my eyes went straight to her.

She was radiant.

Sitting with my mother, laughing gently at something Caelum said, a flush blooming on her cheeks. Her lips curved in that small, shy smile that made my gut twist. Her dress hugged the lines of her body—soft cream and gold, delicate and beautiful. Like her.

And I couldn’t look away.

Not all dinner.

My thoughts kept slipping.

Her mouth. Her neck. The delicate hollow between her collarbones.

I imagined my mark there. I imagined the way her lips had tasted last time. How her skin had felt beneath my fingers. How her body had arched into mine.

And gods—I imagined everything else.

The way she’d sigh my name. The way she’d feel wrapped around me. The moment I’d finally make her mine in every way that mattered.

Her gaze flicked up once, caught mine—and her cheeks flushed even darker.

She knew what I was thinking.

She felt it.

When she stood, the candlelight caught the curve of her hips through the fabric, and I swore something primal inside me snapped its jaw. She left with a quiet “Goodnight,” and I nearly bolted after her.

But then—

“Theron,” my mother called.

I paused at the edge of the dining room, just steps from chasing Mireya upstairs.

Eve stood in the hallway, her eyes soft. Caelum and Gavriel were with her, all three of them waiting for me.

“I just want a word,” she said gently.

I exhaled, nodded. “Mireya went up. I’ll follow her in a minute.”

She smiled and stepped forward, cupping my cheek in the way only a mother could. “You’ll be fine, sweetheart. Just follow your heart. Follow your instincts. And pleasure her.”

I blinked. “Wait. What?”

She kissed my forehead.

I stepped back, stunned, looking at my fathers like they might stop this train of parental trauma.

Caelum just smirked.

Gavriel laughed under his breath.

“What did you tell her?” I asked, pointing at them.

Caelum shrugged, amused. “One more thing you should know about sex—it’s impossible to hide anything from your mate.”

“I just talked to you two hours ago,” I said, horrified. “You had time to—? Did you really—?”

“At the office,” Caelum said proudly. “About an hour ago.”

Gavriel groaned. “Gods, Cael.”

“What? He asked for advice!”

“He asked for advise, not trauma,” My mother muttered.

They laughed. Eve even smiled as she reached for my hand again. “You’ll do great,” she said gently. “You love her. She loves you. That’s what matters. The rest… it’ll come naturally.”

“And the mate bond helps,” Caelum added, very unhelpfully. “Just remember to breathe.”

“And hydrate,” Gavriel threw in.

“I hate you all,” I mumbled.

They were still chuckling when I turned to go.

But then—

Eve called softly after me, “Theron?”

I turned.

She stepped forward, arms wrapping around me, her voice suddenly quiet. “You’re everything I ever hoped for in a son. No matter what happens tonight… she already chose you. Just as you chose her.”

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“Thanks, Mom.”

I left them standing there in the hallway, and I felt something warm pulse in my chest.

Steady.

True.

It wasn’t just nerves now.

It was love.

And it was time.

Time to show her what she meant to me.

Time to make her mine.

Chapter 26

POV: Theron

Her eyes were on me the moment I walked in.

She stood by the window, dressed in one of the soft gowns Eve had left for her—a pale gold that kissed her skin like sunlight. Her red hair, brushed and shining, fell over her shoulders in loose waves. Bare feet on the stone floor, hands lightly clasped in front of her.

She was everything. Every breath I couldn’t take. Every prayer I’d never dared to say out loud.

The bond pulsed under my skin—warm, electric, ancient. My wolf stirred, hungry for her. Not just for her body. For her soul.

She turned as I stepped closer, her gaze finding mine—wide, deep, impossibly brave.

There was something in her eyes that shattered me. A softness I didn’t expect. A storm I’d always known.

“I was waiting for you,” she whispered.

“I’ve been yours,” I said, rough-voiced, heart racing. “Since the first moment I saw you.”

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t retreat. She stepped into me, and it felt like something clicked into place.

My hands found her waist, reverent, gentle. I touched her like I was afraid she’d vanish if I moved too fast. Her skin was warm beneath the thin fabric, and as I slid my hands up her sides, I felt the faintest tremble—desire, not fear.

I tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “We’re alone now. Just us.”

“Just us,” she echoed, her voice a breath against my chest.

I cupped her face, my thumbs brushing her cheeks, grounding myself in her.

And then—

She rose on her toes and pressed her lips to mine, soft as air, fierce as fire.

I kissed her back, slowly at first. Savoring. Memorizing. She tasted like trust. Like freedom. Like something holy.

Then her fingers curled in my shirt, and she tugged me closer. I let her. Gods, I let her. My hands slid to her back, pulling her flush against me. Every inch of her body against mine.

The kiss turned hungry. Needy. Her mouth opened to mine, tongues sliding, teeth grazing. I felt her sigh into me, and my knees nearly buckled.

“Theron,” she murmured, breathless. My name a plea, a promise, a vow.

“I’ve got you,” I said against her lips. “Always.”

She reached down, gathering the hem of her dress. I helped her lift it over her head, and when it dropped to the floor—

I stopped breathing.

She stood before me, bare, unashamed. Glorious.

Not just beautiful—radiant. Her skin like moonlight, soft curves and endless strength. A warrior’s soul in a goddess’s body.

She had been broken. Hurt. Marked by cruelty.

And still, she stood here. With me.

Chose this.

Chose me.

I let her undress me, her fingers trembling slightly as she removed my shirt. She pushed at my pants next, and I stepped out of them, letting her see me. All of me.

Her gaze dragged over my body like a touch. Not just desire—but reverence. She looked at me like I was hers.

And gods—I was.

I kissed her again, deeper this time. My hands found her hips, her thighs, lifting her effortlessly as she wrapped her legs around my waist.

I carried us to the bed. She landed with a soft gasp, her body reaching for mine. I followed, covering her with my body, shielding her, worshipping her.

My mouth found her throat, the soft slope of her shoulder. She moaned when I reached her breast, when I tasted her skin. Her hands tangled in my hair, her back arched, offering me more.

I took my time. I wanted to learn every part of her—what made her gasp, what made her sigh, what made her moan my name like it was something sacred. I kissed every inch of her skin, even the places where the runes had once been carved. I felt her body hitch beneath my mouth, the memory of pain still lingering there. But I kissed each place that once had a mark, a scar, as if I could rewrite what they meant. As if I could make her feel how precious she truly was. How deeply she was worshipped.

And gods, the way she touched me back—exploring, claiming, as if she needed to memorize me too. Her fingers trailed my chest, my arms, my jaw. She wasn’t just reacting—she was choosing.

My fingers slid between her thighs, and I found her wet—already aching for me.

“You’re perfect,” I groaned into her skin. “Every damn part of you.”

I shifted lower, tasting her, licking slow circles over her clit with my tongue. Her gasp was high and sharp, her thighs trembling around my shoulders.

She tried to muffle her cries, but I didn’t let her. I held her open, cherished her, listened to the music of her pleasure. She bucked against my mouth, her fingers digging into my hair, her moans growing louder.

She came undone for me—shaking, gasping, crying out my name like it was the only word she knew.

And when she opened her eyes… there were tears.

“Are you okay?” I whispered, moving up to cup her face.

She nodded, voice trembling. “I never thought I’d feel this. Not like this. Not safe. Not good.”

I pressed my forehead to hers. “You are safe. You’re everything. And I will never stop showing you that.”

I kissed her. Soft. Fierce.

“And I’ll never stop making you come,” I added with a smirk.

She laughed—an actual laugh—and gods, I’d do anything to hear it again.

“I love that idea.”

Her hand slipped between us, her fingers wrapping around my cock, and I hissed, my head falling back.

Her touch was magic—warm, curious, reverent.

She pushed me onto my back, and I let her take control. Her eyes on mine, steady, sure.

“Mireya, you don’t have to—” I started.

“But I want to,” she said, then lowered her mouth to me.

Gods.

Her lips wrapped around the tip, her tongue flicking, teasing, and I nearly came undone right there. I tangled my fingers in her hair, not to guide her, just to anchor myself. She sucked me deeper, eyes never leaving mine, and I was lost.

Her mouth was velvet heat. Her hands were sin. And when I saw her looking at me like that—like I was hers—I couldn’t hold back.

“I need to feel you,” I groaned, pulling her up, kissing her hard.

She guided me to her entrance. I paused, trembling with restraint.

“Ready?” I asked, voice hoarse. “Are you sure?”

“More than,” she whispered.

I pushed in—slow, steady. Her gasp echoed in my ears, nails scraping down my back. She was hot and tight, her walls clenching around me, pulling me in deeper.

And I knew.

This was it.

This was home.

We moved together, slow at first. Every thrust, every moan, every kiss a vow. She rose to meet me, her body welcoming, her heart open.

Her legs wrapped around me, her hands in my hair. Our mouths met again and again—wild, hungry, endless.

Our magic shimmered around us—gold, green, blue, and red. The bond singing through every touch.

Fate.

Fire.

Love.

I moved faster, deeper. Her cries grew louder. My name on her lips, a prayer. Her body trembled, her pleasure cresting again, and I followed, spilling into her with a guttural moan.

Then she tilted her head—offering her neck.

“Mark me,” she whispered.

My fangs descended, and I bit—claiming her, binding us. Our bond ignited like wildfire, her pleasure flooding into me as she came again, body quaking, walls tightening around me.

Then I tilted my head too.

No words needed.

She bit me, and the flood of magic—of emotion—was so intense it brought tears to my eyes.

We were one.

Complete.

Forever.

I collapsed beside her, pulling her into my arms. Her face tucked into my neck, her hand on my chest.

I held her tight. I wouldn’t let go.

“I’m yours,” I whispered into her hair.

And she whispered back—

“Forever.”

Chapter 27

POV: Theron

I woke up with her legs tangled in mine and her head on my chest.

And fuck, nothing had ever felt so perfect.

Sunlight crept through the curtains, soft and golden, casting a glow over her bare skin. Her body was wrapped around mine like she’d always belonged there. Like she’d carved herself into my bones overnight.

Which, if I was being honest… she had.

I smiled, slow and a little smug. We hadn’t just had sex—we’d made love. A lot. Over and over until she was trembling and flushed, until I couldn’t tell where I ended and she began. And every time she’d said my name, every time she touched me like I was hers—I shattered.

She stirred, letting out a soft, sleepy sound, her hand sliding across my stomach like she was claiming me all over again.

“Good morning,” I murmured, brushing my fingers through her hair.

She groaned. “Too bright.”

I laughed. “That’s not the sun. That’s me glowing. I think you broke me last night.”

She opened one eye and looked up at me, her lips curving. “You deserved it.”

“I did,” I said, dragging my hand down her back, settling on her hip. “And I think I deserve it again.”

She rolled her eyes, but the way she pressed against me said otherwise. “You’re insatiable.”

“And you love it,” I murmured, nuzzling her neck. “You love how I touch you. How I make you beg.”

Her breath hitched. “Cocky much?”

“Confident,” I corrected, grazing her jaw with my lips. “And deeply, madly in love with you.”

Her teasing faded for a second. Her fingers curled against my chest.

“You really do,” she whispered.

“More than anything.” I turned her onto her back, hovering over her, brushing her hair out of her face. “You okay?”

She looked up at me, eyes soft. “I feel… different. Like something heavy has finally lifted.”

I kissed the corner of her mouth, slow and reverent. “The curse?”

She nodded. “The pain, the silence, the fear—it’s like it’s gone. Not just the runes or the spells. But what they left behind. The emptiness.” Her voice cracked, and her eyes welled with emotion. “When you touched me… when you marked me… it didn’t just change my body. It healed something inside me.”

“Mireya…” I whispered, my throat tightening.

Her hands slid up to cradle my face. “For the first time, I wasn’t touched to hurt. I was touched to be loved. Worshipped. I wasn’t a curse—I was yours.”

“You are mine,” I said fiercely, my voice rough with emotion. “Marked. Mated. Adored. And I’m never letting you go.”

She pulled me down and kissed me like a promise—one sealed with fire and tenderness. Her lips were soft, urgent, tasting of trust and hunger. Then her fingers slid down my stomach, slow and sure, her touch like silk over flame, until she found my cock—already hard for her, already aching.

“Again?” she whispered against my mouth, teasing, breathless, eyes full of mischief and desire.

I let out a low growl, my forehead pressed to hers. “You’re going to be the death of me, little wolf.”

Her smile turned wicked, and her hand guided me lower, positioning me at her entrance. We were both already on the edge, bodies strung tight with need. And gods, when I slid inside her—slow, deep, claiming—everything in me shattered and came alive all at once.

She was warm, wet, ready, perfect, home—and gods, I’d never get over the way she opened for me like she was made to fit me. Because the truth? She was…

She arched beneath me, gasping my name, her legs wrapping around my waist and pulling me impossibly closer. Her heat wrapped around me like a velvet vise, her body welcoming me like I’d always belonged there.

Because I had.

She was mine.

And I was hers.

Her fingers dug into my back, nails scratching, guiding, grounding. Our mouths found each other in a kiss that was all teeth and tongue and aching devotion. My thrusts were slow but deep, building steadily. Every inch of her drove me wild—every moan, every twitch of her hips, every whispered word.

“I love you,” she breathed against my jaw.

Gods.

I buried my face in her neck. “Say it again.”

“I love you,” she moaned, her voice trembling. “Theron, I love you.”

My hand slipped between us, finding her clit. She bucked at the touch, gasping, her whole body tightening beneath me.

I didn’t rush. I wanted her to feel all of it. Every movement. Every breath. Every heartbeat.

“Come for me,” I whispered. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

Her body clenched around me, her release breaking through her like a wave, her cry muffled against my shoulder as she came, shaking, pulsing, perfect.

I followed with a groan, burying myself as deep as I could, holding her tight as I spilled inside her. My whole body tensed, shaking with the force of it—like I was giving her everything I had left. Because I was.

Afterward, I didn’t pull away.

I stayed buried in her, our bodies tangled, her cheek pressed to my chest. Her fingers traced idle shapes on my ribs, and I kissed the top of her head.

Our breaths slowed. Our hearts matched pace.

One rhythm.

One bond.

One soul.

After a while, she sighed. “We’re going to be late for breakfast.”

“I’ll bring it to bed.”

She smiled, her fingers tracing lazy patterns over my chest. “And miss the look on Caelum’s face when he realizes what we’ve been doing all night?”

“Oh, he already knows,” I said with a smirk. “They all do. You screamed pretty loud, sweetheart.”

She slapped my chest, laughing. “Asshole.”

I caught her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Your asshole.”

She flushed. “Gods, you’re impossible.”

“And yet, you marked me anyway.”

Her expression softened, and she leaned in to kiss the spot where her bite still throbbed on my shoulder.

“You’re mine,” she whispered.

And I whispered right back—because it was the truest thing I’d ever known:

“Forever.”

Chapter 28

POV: Theron

By the time we made it to the dining hall, Mireya was blushing from head to toe, and I was grinning like I’d won the godsdamned war.

Because I had.

She wore a simple dress—one of Eve’s, I think—but even in borrowed clothes and bare feet, she moved like a queen. My queen. Her skin glowed, her hair still damp from the bath I made her take after round three. Or was it four? I’d lost count.

She walked beside me, close but hesitant, like she expected the teasing to sting.

And it did come.

“Oh, someone’s walking funny this morning,” Gavriel said the second we entered, sipping his tea like he wasn’t already smiling at us.

Caelum didn’t even look up from his plate. “You’re late.”

“We’re glowing,” I replied casually. “Takes time.”

Eve choked on her drink.

Mireya made a mortified sound in her throat, and I slid an arm around her waist, tugging her into my side, pressing a soft kiss behind her ear.

“Relax,” I murmured. “They tease because they’re happy.”

“They’re going to talk about us.”

“They already do.” I kissed her temple. “Let them.”

We sat down, and I made sure to keep her close, my hand never straying far from hers. She needed grounding, and I’d be her anchor until she realized she didn’t need one anymore.

Eve smiled at us across the table, eyes warm. “You look… different.”

“She feels different,” I said quietly. “She’s glowing inside. Free.”

Mireya flushed but didn’t look away. “I feel… clean. Whole. Like myself, for the first time.”

Eve reached out and squeezed her hand across the table.

And then Caelum, ever the menace, added, “And marked.”

Mireya’s eyes widened. “You can tell?”

Gavriel smirked. “Oh, sweetheart. We all can.”

I straightened in my seat, locking eyes with them. “Yeah, well… so can I.”

I tugged the collar of my shirt to the side, revealing the perfect bite on my shoulder—still red, still fresh. “She marked me back.”

The room went still for a beat. Not tense. Just… full. Like the air itself held its breath.

Then Eve smiled again, proud and misty-eyed. “Good.”

Mireya looked down at her lap, overwhelmed, but I leaned in, nudged her chin up with two fingers.

“Don’t hide it,” I whispered. “Be proud of what you survived. Proud of what we are.”

She nodded slowly, and when her hand found mine under the table, I squeezed it gently.

Gavriel leaned back in his chair, his eyes sharp but amused. “So. You’re mated. Officially.”

“Bonded,” I corrected. “Claimed. Tied together in magic, body, and soul.”

Mireya rolled her eyes. “You’re so dramatic in the morning.”

“You love it,” I teased, brushing my knuckles along her thigh beneath the table.

“Unfortunately.”

Caelum gave us both a look that was equal parts exasperated father and secretly-proud alpha. “Just don’t forget you’re both still recovering.”

“I feel like I could run ten miles,” Mireya said, surprising all of us.

“Yeah, well…” I smirked at her. “We already did a lot of exercises.”

Eve groaned. “Theron, please.”

Mireya slapped my arm. “You’re terrible!”

“And you’re mine,” I whispered. “Every beautiful, fiery, perfect part of you.”

She melted, just a little.

I leaned closer, pressing my forehead to hers for a moment. “I love you. I’ll say it a thousand times a day until it sinks into every scar they ever gave you.”

Her breath caught. “It already has.”

We stayed like that a moment longer, wrapped in soft things—safety, love, morning sunlight—before turning back to the table.

“Alright,” Caelum said, clapping his hands once. “Now that we’ve established that you’re both hopelessly in love and probably going to be insufferable for the next few days…”

“…weeks,” Gavriel corrected.

“…we need to talk next steps.”

But I didn’t let go of her hand.

Not even when the world threatened to pull us forward.

Not even when everything we’d escaped came rushing back.

Because she was mine.

And I was hers.

And nothing—no magic, no curse, no past—was ever going to break that again.

Three moons after the last mark was made.

The forest was quiet in the way sacred things often are—heavy with meaning, breathless with memory.

I stood at the edge of the glade, dressed in ceremonial black stitched with silver threads, waiting for her.

Waiting for my mate.

And when she stepped into the clearing, everything inside me stilled.

Mireya.

Her red hair was loose, falling like fire down her back. Her skin, once bruised and broken, now shimmered with subtle runes—glowing soft and golden, no longer carved in pain but shining with power and pride. She wore a dress the color of moonlight, simple and soft, made by Eve’s hands and enchanted by Kazzar. And around her throat hung a pendant shaped like a wolf’s fang—mine.

She met my eyes, and the bond between us sang like lightning and honey.

When she reached me, I didn’t speak.

I just held out my hand, and she took it, warm and sure.

Our mating ceremony wasn’t grand. Not like my parents’, not like the old stories. No nobles, no formal declarations. Just our family. Our pack. Our people. The council stood beside us, but not above us. Kazzar and Korr, Caelum, Gavriel, and Eve—our roots, our strength. The warriors, the healers, the wolves. All of them watching not just a joining of mates, but the rising of something new.

Something ancient, reborn.

Together, Mireya and I recited our vows—words that weren’t written in any old book, but born from the battles we’d survived.

“I choose you in fury and in silence,” she whispered. “In scars and in starlight.”

“And I choose you,” I said, voice thick, “in blood and in breath. In war, in peace. In every life we’re given.”

I bit her first—at the base of her throat where her pulse beat strongest. She cried out, not in pain, but in surrender. In claim. Then she bit me, hard and perfect, and the bond sealed with a rush of heat so strong I nearly dropped to my knees.

We were one.

Alpha and Luna.

No longer broken pieces, but a forged whole.

I didn’t want to move to my parent’s room, the Alpha, it was still theirs, so we build a new Alpha room, more like a Alpha home,.

We moved into the southern wing of the stronghold a week later, into our new home—walls lined with enchanted stone, large windows for moonlight, a bed big enough for every tangled night. I still trained with Caelum, still hunted with Gavriel, but I was stepping into their place more and more. Leading strategy meetings. Reviewing border patrols. Sitting in council chambers.

And Mireya—

Gods.

She bloomed.

Once quiet and wary, she now walked with her chin high, her voice clear. The witches’ cruelty hadn’t crushed her—it had sharpened her. Kazzar said her control over magic was unlike anything he’d seen. She could read ancient runes now like breathing, channel raw energy through blades and bows. She and Korr worked side by side building enchanted weapons for the warriors—burning spears, shadow arrows, moonsteel blades.

She wasn’t just my Luna.

She was the pack’s protector in her own right.

Every full moon, we ran in wolf form—her wolf now glowing red-gold, sleek and fierce, always pressed to my side. She still had nightmares sometimes. I still fought to shift fully. But neither of us was fighting alone anymore.

And the bond… Gods, the bond.

It wasn’t just love. It was fate realized.

Sometimes, I’d wake up in the night just to look at her—her lashes dark against her cheeks, her breath slow, her hand always curled against my chest.

And I’d whisper, “You’re mine.”

And she’d mumble back, “Always.”

My parents were proud.

Eve said it every time she hugged me a little too long. Caelum showed it by letting me argue with him during war meetings without throttling me. Gavriel… Gavriel just watched me one day, then clapped a hand on my shoulder and said, “You’ve already surpassed us.”

I didn’t believe him.

But I felt it.

I felt the shift—not just in power, but in legacy.

I wasn’t just the son of legends anymore.

I was my own name.

And I would spend every breath I had protecting the family I was building.

One night, Mireya sat curled against me in front of the fireplace, legs tangled with mine, sipping warm cider.

“Do you ever think about how we started?” she asked, eyes thoughtful.

“All the time.”

“Do you miss the quiet before it all?”

I kissed her knuckles. “That wasn’t quiet. That was loneliness. This…” I gestured to the fire, to our home, to her. “This is peace.”

She leaned into me, soft and fierce. “I never thought I’d be chosen.”

“You weren’t chosen,” I said gently. “You are destiny.”

Her eyes filled, and she didn’t speak again.

She didn’t need to.

We were whole now.

No more curses.

No more cages.

Just love.

And the long, wild, beautiful future ahead.

Together.

Chapter 29

POV: Theron

The sun spilled gold over the valley, soft and warm against my skin as I stood at the highest terrace of the pack house, watching our people move below like threads in a well-woven tapestry.

Preparations for the festival had begun at dawn, and the entire stronghold buzzed with energy. The scent of roasted meat and baked sweets carried on the breeze. Children ran between stalls, and warriors strung silver lanterns across the main square. Laughter echoed through the mountains like music.

This was home.

Whole. Healed. Alive.

I breathed it in.

Behind me, the door creaked.

“I told you not to run off without breakfast,” Mireya said, stepping onto the terrace with two mugs in her hands. She handed me one—sweet tea with a dash of honey, just how I liked it.

I smiled as I took it, fingers brushing hers. “Wasn’t running off. Just thinking.”

“Dangerous habit, for an Alpha,” she teased, leaning against the rail beside me.

Gods, she was beautiful in the morning light—her red hair braided loosely over one shoulder, a pale blue dress hugging her waist. A delicate silver chain hung around her neck, a charm of the first rune she ever created—her past turned into power.

She was the fiercest thing I knew.

And she was mine.

“Thinking about the festival?” she asked, sipping her tea.

I nodded. “The Council will be here in hours. Packs from every corner are sending their envoys. Caelum’s got the logistics locked down—of course.”

Mireya laughed softly. “He was ranting about seating arrangements with Gavriel this morning. Something about how the North Claw Alpha refuses to sit beside the Riverborne delegation.”

I grinned. “He’ll manage. He always does.”

Caelum was pacing the meeting hall when I left him, muttering to himself with a scroll half-unrolled and a quill behind his ear. Gavriel, calm as ever, was at his side, assigning warriors to watch the roads, keeping guard rotations tight. He was already preparing fallback plans—always the protector.

And Eve? She was in the courtyard surrounded by crates of golden flowers, directing the kitchen staff like a queen commanding her army. I could still hear her voice echoing:

“No, no, the pastries with cinnamon go after the venison. Caelum’s allergic to cinnamon on an empty stomach. We’ve talked about this!”

We were a strange pack.

But we were a good one.

And slowly, Mireya and I were becoming a part of that rhythm.

“I carved a new set of boundary runes this morning,” she said quietly. “Added a blend of protection and masking. The guards will be safe. The borders will hold.”

I turned toward her, pride swelling in my chest. “You used to flinch at the word ‘rune.’ Now you weave spells through them like a master.”

She met my eyes, fierce and glowing. “You turned my scars into power. I’ll never forget that.”

I cupped her cheek and kissed her forehead. “You did that yourself.”

Then her fingers caught mine and tugged me toward the stairs. “Come on. You’ve got to help Eve pick a flower crown.”

I blinked. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“She said you’re the only one who can carry the ‘Alpha aesthetic’ and not make it look stiff.”

I groaned. “I’m going to regret saving her from those witches, aren’t I?”

Mireya laughed and kissed my shoulder. “Every single day.”

The celebration was perfect.

Eve walked beside Caelum and Gavriel, radiant in gold. My fathers flanked her with pride. Our people cheered as we descended the terrace steps together. And behind them, Mireya took my hand.

She was no longer the girl curled in a healer’s bed, covered in scars and silence.

She was a Luna.

Powerful.

Brilliant.

And wholly mine.

As the drums started and the bonfires lit the sky, I pulled her close, spinning her into a dance among our people. She laughed freely, that deep, rich sound that made everything inside me go still.

And for a moment—just one—I saw it all so clearly:

The future we’d fought for.

A pack reborn.

And a love that had survived the fire.

The stars were scattered across the sky like spilled salt on velvet. Quiet had finally settled over the stronghold—just the hum of distant music, soft laughter, the crackling of fire pits.

We were on the balcony off the main hall, just the five of us.

My parents sat close, tangled in the way they always were. Caelum’s arm draped behind Eve, who leaned into Gavriel’s shoulder, her eyes soft with exhaustion but peace. Mireya rested against my side, her fingers twined in mine, her cheek warm against my shoulder. Her red hair shimmered in the moonlight. We hadn’t spoken much in the last few minutes—didn’t need to. The silence between us felt whole, like everything had already been said.

“Did you ever imagine it would look like this?” I asked quietly.

Caelum chuckled. “Not in a thousand years.”

“I thought your mother might burn the castle down before letting anyone near her,” Gavriel added, smirking.

“And you were the fire I was trying to burn it down with,” Eve shot back, but her smile was fond.

They laughed softly, and Mireya leaned up to kiss my jaw. “You have them in you, you know.”

“I know,” I murmured, eyes fixed on the horizon.

Because I did.

I saw them in me every day. My quiet strength came from Gavriel, the steady hands of a warrior who fought with heart before blade. My instincts, my wildness, the way I claimed Mireya and never looked back—that was Caelum, the alpha carved from fire. And Eve… she was in my soul. My softness. My fury. My unwavering need to protect. She was the gold in my blood.

I was made from them.

Forged by their love.

Born from prophecy—but raised by something stronger: family.

“I used to think I was broken,” I whispered. “That because I couldn’t shift, I wasn’t whole. That something in me was wrong.”

Eve’s fingers tightened on Gavriel’s hand. Mireya pressed closer.

“But I wasn’t broken. I was waiting. My wolf… he’s not like the others. He’s something ancient. Primal. Magic. I was the first in centuries born with all three bloodlines. And I used that power—my first shift—to destroy the witches who took everything from us. I don’t take that lightly.”

Caelum met my eyes. “And you never will. That’s why you’re worthy of it.”

“I’ll carry it,” I said softly. “Not just the power—but the name. The title. The responsibility. I’ll use it for protection. For peace. Only if it’s ever needed again. But I know who I am now.”

I looked down at Mireya.

“My wolf waited for her. My magic woke for her. We were forged in war—me, the broken heir, her, the cursed mate. And together… we rose.”

She looked up at me with tears in her eyes. “Alpha and Luna.”

I nodded. “Alpha and Luna.”

Eve stood and came to me first, wrapping her arms around me. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispered against my neck.

Then Gavriel and Caelum joined, and we were wrapped in each other, the five of us, arms overlapping, breath shared, hearts open.

A pack.

A family.

Mireya whispered against my chest, “The first wolf isn’t just you, Theron. It’s all of us. Together.”

And I knew she was right.

We were the beginning of something new.

And we were only just getting started.