Chapter 11

POV: Eve

I whirled around.

And my breath caught.

Caelum.

He stepped inside, shoulders rigid, chest rising and falling with labored breaths. His guard uniform was torn, blood soaking into the fabric, smearing across his hands and arms. Not all of it was his.

But some of it was.

And his face—gods, his face. A fresh cut ran along his cheekbone, his skin pale beneath the streaks of crimson.

I smelled silver wounds.

Dangerous for a wolf.

I couldn’t prevent my heart from fearing if he would be okay.

The room shifted in an instant.

The pack house staff rushed forward, their hands outstretched to help him.

But before I could think—before I could stop myself—I moved first.

“No.” My voice cut through the air, sharp and unwavering.

They froze.

So did Caelum.

His green eyes snapped to mine, dark with exhaustion, with something unreadable.

I swallowed, forcing my steps forward. “I’ll take care of him.”

A pause. A hesitation.

Then, finally, the others stepped back.

I reached him, my heart hammering as I slid my arm under his, guiding his weight. He let me.

No protest. No sharp remark.

Just quiet, heavy exhaustion.

We moved together, step by step, until we reached his chambers.

The moment we crossed the threshold, I kicked the door shut behind us. The sound echoed in the silence.

Caelum sagged against the edge of the bed, his breath shallow.

“I need to see,” I murmured. “Take your shirt off.”

A flicker of something crossed his expression—surprise? Amusement? He was too tired to mask it fully.

“Bossy,” he rasped.

I lifted a brow. “Take it off, or I’ll do it myself.”

His mouth twitched—a ghost of a smirk, barely there.

But then, with slow, deliberate movements, he reached for the hem of his uniform. He pulled it over his head, and the moment the fabric lifted away—I forgot how to breathe.

Caelum was all muscle and silver scars. Strength carved into every inch of him, old wounds painting stories across his skin.

And his mark.

The same as mine.

Right over his heart.

I forced my focus back, swallowing as I grabbed a cloth and dipped it into the bowl of warm water I had set beside us.

The room was too quiet. The air too thick.

I pressed the cloth to his skin, cleaning away the blood. His muscles tensed under my touch, a sharp inhale escaping him.

His eyes found mine, dark and unreadable.

“You don’t have to do this,” he murmured.

I wrung out the cloth, my fingers trembling. “I know.”

A beat of silence.

A slow, quiet exhale.

He let me.

I worked carefully, gently, washing away the blood, dabbing ointment onto his wounds.

And the whole time, his eyes never left me.

Caelum’s breathing had steadied. The bleeding had stopped. I should leave.

But I didn’t.

His skin was still warm beneath my fingertips as I adjusted the last bandage across his ribs, my hands moving on their own, careful, precise. His muscles twitched beneath my touch, and I swallowed, forcing my focus to stay on my task—not on the weight of his gaze, dark and unreadable, as he watched me.

I reached for the ointment, but before I could move, his fingers closed gently around my wrist.

I froze.

“Stay with me tonight,” he murmured.

My pulse stuttered.

His voice was hoarse, rough from exhaustion, but there was something else in it, something quiet and raw. I opened my mouth, but no words came.

His grip tightened, just a fraction. Not demanding, not forceful. A plea.

“I meant—” He exhaled slowly. “Sleep. Just sleep, Eve.”

I swallowed hard.

“The witches…” He hesitated, jaw clenching, his throat bobbing with the weight of his thoughts. “They got in.” His voice was quieter now, like the words burned to say aloud. “I saw things tonight that I—” He stopped himself, shaking his head slightly. “I won’t rest if I can’t feel you, if I don’t know you’re safe.”

His words coiled around my ribs, tightening something deep inside me.

I should say no.

But I didn’t want to.

I didn’t want to go back to my room alone. Didn’t want to lie awake in the dark, thinking of the bloodshed, of the fear I had felt when those doors burst open and I thought—I thought—

I let out a shaky breath. “Okay.”

A flicker of relief crossed his face, so quick I might have imagined it. He nodded once, then slowly released my wrist.

I stood, turning away to give him space as we both changed. I was careful, deliberate with each movement, slipping out of my dress and into the linen nightgown I had worn before. But I could still feel him in the room, his presence a steady hum beneath my skin.

When I turned back, he was already under the blankets, watching me.

I hesitated for only a second before stepping toward the bed. The mattress dipped beneath my weight as I slipped under the covers, my body stiff and uncertain.

We weren’t touching. There was a gap between us, but I could feel the warmth of him, the quiet strength that radiated from his body.

A breath. Then another.

Neither of us spoke.

The war was still out there. Blood was still soaking the earth. But here, in this room, in this bed, there was only silence.

Caelum let out a slow exhale, his body finally relaxing.

And, somehow, mine did too.

The first thing I became aware of was warmth.

Not just the thick blankets, but something else. Solid. Steady. Surrounding me.

I blinked, my mind sluggish with sleep, my body still heavy with exhaustion. It was only when I shifted slightly that I felt it—strong, warm arms draped around my waist, the steady rise and fall of a chest against my back.

Caelum.

My breath caught.

At some point in the night, we had moved closer. Or maybe I had. Maybe he had. Either way, now there was no space between us.

His arm was slung over me, not tight, not possessive—just there. I could feel his breath against my hair, slow and deep, still lost in sleep.

The instinct to tense, to pull away, flickered through me. But I didn’t move.

Because…it didn’t feel wrong.

It should have. It should have sent a rush of irritation through me, should have made me want to push him away. But instead, my body remained still, my heart beating a little too fast, my breath a little too shallow.

And then—he stirred.

A low exhale against my hair, a shift of muscle behind me. I felt his breathing change, the way his body tensed for a fraction of a second before relaxing again. His arm started to move, as if realizing where it was, but then—hesitation.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then, slowly, carefully, he pulled back, withdrawing his warmth as he rolled onto his back.

I swallowed, finally allowing myself to breathe.

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep.

I turned my head just enough to see him, sprawled across the bed, one arm thrown over his forehead. He looked…tired. Not just physically, but deeper than that.

I pushed myself up, smoothing down my nightgown. “Morning.”

A beat of silence. Not awkward, exactly. Just—different.

He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face before sitting up fully. “We should eat.”

And just like that, the moment passed.

Chapter 12

POV: Eve

The dining hall was already buzzing with voices when we entered. Warriors, council members, pack leaders—they all stopped to acknowledge Caelum with respectful nods, their gazes flickering to me as well.

Luna.

They had called me that before. But now, after last night, it felt…different. He hadn’t just protected me—he had let me in. And though no one else knew that, it was as if they could sense the shift between us.

We took our seats at the head of the table, the other leaders settling in around us. Ellara was already there, sending me a small, knowing smile. Loric sat a few seats away, offering a nod.

As breakfast was served, Caelum cleared his throat. “There’s something we need to discuss.”

The conversation quieted, attention turning to him.

“The wedding,” he said, his voice measured. “It’s in three days.” A pause. Then he exhaled slowly. “I’m considering postponing it.”

I blinked.

He didn’t look at me, his focus on the others. “The Bloodmoon Pact is getting bolder. The witches have already breached our borders once. I won’t take any risks.”

I sat up straighter, my pulse ticking up.

“No,” I said.

It was immediate. Automatic.

The table stilled.

Caelum’s eyes snapped to mine, surprise flickering in their depths. “Eve—”

“I don’t want to postpone it.” My voice was steady, firm.

It wasn’t just about the preparations—though, yes, after spending so much time planning, the thought of delaying everything grated on me. But that wasn’t it.

I didn’t hate the idea of marrying him anymore.

I didn’t want to admit it aloud, not even to myself. But the thought of stopping, of pushing it further away, didn’t bring me the relief it once had.

Caelum wasn’t the monster I had feared.

And my mate—my supposed, lost mate—was dead.

So what did it matter anymore?

I lifted my chin. “Everything is already prepared. Changing the date now would only cause unnecessary disruption. It should happen as planned.”

Caelum studied me for a long moment.

Then, finally, he exhaled. “Very well.” He turned to Korr. “We’ll reinforce security. I want double the guards on patrol at all times. Any potential weak points—”

“We’ll handle it,” Korr assured him.

Caelum gave a sharp nod before his gaze flickered back to me.

Something unreadable passed through his eyes.

Something that sent a strange warmth curling through my chest.

And for the first time since this wedding was arranged, I didn’t dread it.

I like the idea?

I tried not to think about this, so I went to the library.

I ran my fingers along the worn spine of the book in my lap, my eyes skimming the words, but I wasn’t really reading. Not anymore.

The library was quiet, a peaceful kind of silence that settled over me like a soft blanket. A few flickering candles cast warm light over the shelves, the scent of old parchment and ink wrapping around me.

For the first time in a while, I felt…still.

But then, a shadow fell over the pages.

I looked up.

Caelum stood before me, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

“You spend a lot of time here,” he murmured.

I closed the book. “Is that a problem?”

His lips twitched slightly. “No.” He hesitated, then held out a hand. “Come with me.”

I frowned. “Where?”

“You’ll see.”

Something about the way he said it made curiosity stir in my chest.

After a beat, I slipped my hand into his. His grip was warm, steady, and he didn’t let go as he led me through the halls, out of the pack house, and into the cool morning air.

The scent of damp earth and pine filled my lungs. The world was still waking, the golden light of dawn stretching long shadows across the courtyard.

And then—I saw it.

Rows of small, delicate flowers lined the garden in front of the pack house, their pale petals swaying gently in the breeze.

Chamomile. Lavender.

My steps slowed.

I knew those flowers. That scent.

My home had been full of them.

I turned to him. “You…planted these?”

His jaw shifted, his gaze flickering to the flowers. “I had them planted.” A pause. Then, quieter—more hesitant: “To help you feel more at home.”

Something in my chest clenched.

I didn’t know what to say.

I looked back at the garden, the soft purples and whites blending together in the early light. The scent of them drifted around us, familiar and warm.

Home.

That’s what this smelled like.

I swallowed past the sudden lump in my throat.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I murmured.

“I know.”

I glanced at him again.

His face was carefully neutral, but there was something in his eyes—something hesitant, almost uncertain.

Caelum was a man who ruled with iron and steel. A man who was feared across packs.

And yet…

I turned back to the flowers.

The wind carried the scent of lavender toward me, wrapping around me like a memory.

Slowly, carefully, I knelt, reaching out to brush my fingers over the soft petals.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

And for the first time, I meant it.

The wedding preparations were supposed to be my focus today.

Ellara had asked me to meet her in one of the pack house’s upper rooms, where the seamstresses were putting together the final details of my dress. But when I stepped inside, I didn’t find her fussing over fabrics or discussing floral arrangements.

She was kneeling on the floor, carefully unrolling a long strip of parchment. Names. So many names.

I frowned, stepping closer. “What is this?”

Ellara glanced up, her expression unusually solemn. “The list for the Luctus Ceremony.”

“The what?” I had never heard of such a thing in my pack.

She sat back on her heels, smoothing her hands over the parchment. “It’s a tradition in Shadowfang. After a battle, we honor those who gave their lives for the pack. Their names are spoken aloud, their deeds remembered. Their families light a flame in their memory, so their souls are never forgotten.”

A lump formed in my throat as I took in the sheer number of names. I had known, of course, that we lost warriors in the attack. I had heard the cries, seen the blood-stained ground. But seeing their names—their lives—laid out before me made it real in a way that sent a sharp ache through my chest.

I kneeled beside her, scanning the list. My heart stuttered as I recognized some of them.

Joren. A soldier who had trained beside me in the past days, always quick with a joke, always encouraging when I faltered.

Theris. A young warrior who had sparred with me just before the battle, his enthusiasm outweighing his skill.

They were gone. And I hadn’t even known.

I felt all that grief.

For their families.

For their pack.

Lives dead to protect us.

Guilt twisted inside me. I had fought to go to the battle, but had I truly understood what it meant? The weight of it? These warriors had died protecting this pack—protecting me.

Ellara’s voice was softer now. “As Luna, it’s part of your duty to lead the ceremony.”

My stomach clenched. “I… I don’t know how to do that.”

She reached for my hand, squeezing it gently. “You don’t have to know. You just have to feel. The Luctus Ceremony isn’t about duty, Eve. It’s about remembering. About making sure the ones we lost aren’t just names on a page.”

I swallowed hard. I had never been part of something like this before. My old pack hadn’t done this—we buried our dead, mourned in private, and moved on. But this… this was something different. It was grief, but it was also love. It was a promise that those who fell in battle mattered.

And for the first time since coming here, I felt something shift inside me.

This pack—the pack I had fought so hard against—wasn’t just Caelum’s responsibility anymore.

It was mine too.

I exhaled slowly and nodded. “Tell me what I need to do.”

Chapter 13

POV: Eve

The day passed in a blur of preparations.

I didn’t train today. I didn’t even set foot near the training grounds.

Instead, I spent the entire morning in the main hall, ensuring everything for the ceremony was as it should be. I spoke to the families of the fallen, listened to their stories, and wrote down details of their loved ones’ lives so that their names would be more than just words in the air tonight.

Joren had a sister. She told me he used to carve little figurines out of wood, that he wanted to craft something for her wedding before the war took him.

Theris had a mother who still called him “my little wolf” even though he had been a warrior, taller than most.

These weren’t just names. They were people.

And I would make sure they were honored as such.

The main hall was transformed by the time dusk arrived. The long wooden tables were cleared, replaced by rows of candles, one for each fallen warrior. The room smelled of pine and burning sage, the flames flickering in the dim light.

I stood at the front of the room, my heart pounding.

I had never done something like this before. I had never spoken in front of a gathered pack, had never felt their eyes on me in expectation.

And then the doors opened, and Caelum walked in.

He moved with the same quiet authority as always, his presence undeniable even in the solemn atmosphere. His hair was damp, his clothes freshly changed, but I still caught sight of a faint bruise near his temple, the shadow of a wound on his forearm.

I stepped forward instinctively. “Your injuries—”

“They were well cared for,” he said simply. His green eyes flickered over me, lingering just long enough that I swore I saw something soften in them. “You took care of them yourself. I heal quickly.”

The memory of the night before flashed in my mind—my hands on his skin, the quiet intimacy of tending to his wounds.

I swallowed hard and looked away.

He stepped beside me, nodding once, and together we turned to face the gathered pack.

The room fell into a hush.

Caelum spoke first. His voice was steady, strong. “We stand here tonight not just as warriors, but as a pack. We do not forget those who gave their lives to protect our home. We do not let their sacrifices fade into the silence.”

He turned slightly, looking at me.

And then it was my turn.

I exhaled slowly, then stepped forward.

I met the eyes of the grieving families, of the warriors who had fought beside those we lost. My throat tightened, but I didn’t let it stop me.

“They fought for us,” I said, my voice softer than Caelum’s but no less certain. “They gave us more time, more days, more life. We honor them not just by mourning, but by remembering. By speaking their names, by sharing their stories, by ensuring they are never lost to the dark.”

I took the parchment in my hands and began reading.

One by one, I spoke their names. I let my voice carry through the hall, steady even when my heart clenched at the ones I knew.

Joren. Theris. The warriors who trained with me, who fought for this pack, who would never stand among us again.

The families stepped forward, each taking a candle, their flames flickering like small echoes of the lives that had been lost.

And then, one by one, they placed them on the altar.

A low, mournful howl rose from the back of the room.

Another voice joined it.

And another.

Until the entire pack house echoed with the sound of grief, of remembrance, of wolves howling into the night for their fallen.

I closed my eyes and felt a tear fall over my checks.

I had never felt this before—this ache, this weight in my chest that was not entirely sadness, but something deeper.

This was not just my pack by marriage.

This was my pack.

And I would do everything in my power to protect it.

The air in the hall shifted.

The sorrow lingered—it always would—but it was no longer a weight pressing down on our chests. Instead, it curled in the edges of the room, softened by the warmth of flickering candlelight and the low hum of conversation.

Music began to play, a slow, steady melody that wove through the gathered pack, filling the space left behind by grief.

I stood at the edge of the hall, watching as warriors raised their cups in quiet toasts, as families clung to each other in shared remembrance.

And then I felt it.

A presence beside me.

Caelum.

Sometimes I forgot how handsome he is, sometimes I just let myself enjoy the view of his sharp features and his intense and beautiful green eyes.

He didn’t say anything at first. He simply stood there, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from him, close enough that his scent—cedar, steel, something darker—wrapped around me.

Ellara appeared at my other side, her voice low. “He never does this.”

I turned my head slightly. “Does what?”

She hesitated, then nodded toward the center of the room.

Toward the space where people were beginning to dance.

My pulse jumped.

I barely had time to process her words before Caelum turned to me fully, his green eyes dark and unreadable.

“Dance with me.”

It wasn’t a question.

It wasn’t an order either.

It was something else—something softer, something quieter.

I swallowed, glancing at Ellara, but she was already slipping away, a knowing glint in her gaze.

And then Caelum offered his hand.

I stared at it.

I had faced warriors in battle. I had stood before this pack and spoken the names of the fallen. I had survived being torn from my home, from everything I had known.

And yet, this—this—felt more terrifying than all of it.

Slowly, I placed my hand in his.

His fingers curled around mine, firm but careful, as if he was giving me a chance to pull away.

I didn’t.

He led me toward the open space in the hall, where other pairs had already begun to sway to the music. But I barely noticed them.

Because the moment he turned to face me, the moment his hands found my waist, everything else disappeared.

My breath caught.

Caelum had touched me before—his fingers against my wrist, his hand at the small of my back when guiding me through the pack house, the brief, desperate way he had cupped my face the night of the battle.

But this was different.

This wasn’t necessity. This wasn’t instinct.

This was a choice.

I placed my hands on his shoulders, my fingers barely brushing the collar of his shirt, and we moved.

Slow.

Measured.

His grip was gentle but unyielding, pulling me just close enough that I could feel the heat of his body, the steady rise and fall of his chest.

I looked up at him.

He was already watching me.

His gaze traced over my face, lingering on my lips for a fraction of a second too long before meeting my eyes again.

Something flickered there.

Something I didn’t have a name for.

The music swelled, and I let it carry me.

I let myself sink into this moment, into the way his fingers pressed against my waist, into the way my body fit against his as we moved in slow, easy steps.

And inch by inch, I realized—I was falling.

Not all at once.

Not completely.

But enough.

Enough to make my heart pound.

Enough to make me want more.

And it terrified me.

Because for the first time since I came to this place, I didn’t want to pull away.

I wasn’t sure when it happened.

When my body lost its tension, when my fingers stopped gripping him like I might need to push him away.

But it did.

One moment, I was thinking about how strange this was—dancing with Caelum, the man I once swore to hate—and the next, I was sinking into him.

His hand tightened at my waist, pulling me just a fraction closer.

Not enough to trap me.

Just enough to steady me.

I exhaled, letting my forehead rest against his chest.

The moment I did, I felt him inhale sharply.

His grip on me faltered, as if he wasn’t sure whether to hold me closer or step away.

But then, after a beat, his palm swept up my back, his fingers barely grazing the exposed skin at the base of my neck.

A shiver ran through me.

He felt it. I knew he did, because his breath hitched, his entire body going tense before slowly, carefully, exhaling.

The music carried us, slow and unhurried, as if the rest of the world had faded into nothing.

I closed my eyes.

I wasn’t sure why I did it.

Maybe because if I did, I could pretend—just for a second—that this was real. That it wasn’t complicated, that it wasn’t laced with all the things unsaid between us.

Maybe because I wanted this moment to be real.

I never felt like this before, and If I wasn’t with the Caellum the monster that everyone suposed to fear, I could say I was falling in love….

But that couldn’t be true right?

And doesn’t matter if I did, because he couldn’t feel that way too, right?

Monsters could fall in love?

Caelum shifted, his mouth so close to my temple that I could feel the warmth of his breath against my skin.

“Eve.”

My name was a whisper. Rough. Almost reluctant.

I forced myself to lift my head, to look at him.

His green eyes burned.

I didn’t know what he saw when he looked at me. I didn’t know what he was searching for.

But I knew what I felt.

My heart pounded against my ribs, each beat filling the space between us, each breath catching in my throat.

Caelum’s hand at my waist flexed, like he was considering something.

Like he wanted to do something.

I swallowed hard.

I didn’t step back.

Neither did he.

The music slowed, the final notes ringing through the hall, but neither of us moved.

His gaze flicked to my lips, just for a second, before snapping back up.

I knew what would happen if I stayed here any longer.

I knew I was teetering on the edge of something I might never come back from.

So I did the only thing I could.

I took a step back.

His hands fell away from me, and the loss of his warmth sent a sharp chill through me.

I cleared my throat, desperate for something—anything—to say.

“Thank you,” I murmured, my voice softer than I intended.

Caelum’s expression flickered, unreadable.

Then, just as softly—just as carefully—he nodded.

I turned before I could do something foolish.

Before I could take back that step, before I could reach for him like some part of me desperately wanted to.

But as I walked away, I could still feel his eyes on me.

Still feel the ghost of his hands on my waist.

And gods help me, I wanted to feel them again.

Chapter 14

POV: Eve

I hesitated outside Caelum’s bedroom door, my fingers curling into my palm.

Last night, I hadn’t known what to expect. I hadn’t planned to sleep beside him.

And yet, I had.

And now, I didn’t know if it would happen again.

Would he expect it? Would he say anything at all?

I swallowed, forcing myself to push the door open.

The room was dimly lit, the fire in the hearth burned low, casting long shadows against the stone walls.

Caelum was already inside.

He stood near the window, his back to me, his shoulders tense. He had removed his shirt, the firelight accentuating the hard lines of his muscles, the scars that carved across his back.

Scars I had traced last night when I thought he was asleep.

I inhaled softly, stepping inside, letting the door click shut behind me.

Caelum turned at the sound, his gaze finding mine. For a long moment, he said nothing, only studied me with an unreadable expression.

Then, slowly, his eyes flicked to the bed.

My heart pounded.

Was he waiting for me to make the choice?

I hesitated, shifting my weight. “I—”

He exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. “You don’t have to,” he said, his voice low, quiet. “I just—” He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “After everything that happened today, I won’t sleep if I don’t know you’re safe.”

Safe.

That was why he wanted me close.

That was why I wanted to stay.

I could pretend it was for the same reason.

I nodded once, stepping forward. I didn’t miss the way his lips parted slightly, his fingers flexing at his sides.

Neither of us spoke as I moved to my side of the bed, my pulse thrumming in my ears as I slid beneath the covers.

Caelum followed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight.

It was different tonight.

Last night, there had been distance. Uncertainty.

Tonight, it felt inevitable.

I lay on my side, my back to him, my breath shallow.

A long silence stretched between us, heavy and charged.

Then—

The bed shifted.

Warmth ghosted over my back.

I stilled.

He wasn’t touching me, not really. But he was close. Closer than before.

I barely breathed.

Another moment passed, and then, so softly I almost didn’t hear it, he murmured, “Goodnight, Eve.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, my heart a wild, reckless thing in my chest.

“…Goodnight, Caelum.”

And despite the storm inside me, I slept.

---

Warmth.

A delicious warmth.

That was the first thing I felt.

A slow, steady heat pressed against me, wrapping around my waist, holding me in place. A deep, rhythmic rise and fall. A presence.

Caelum.

My eyes fluttered open, but I didn’t move. I barely breathed.

Somehow, during the night, we had tangled together, limbs entwined, his arm slung heavy over my waist. My back was flush against his chest, my legs tangled with his, and his breath fanned over the curve of my neck.

A shiver ran through me.

Gods.

I knew I should move. I should shift away, create space between us.

But I didn’t.

I stayed.

For a few heartbeats, I just lay there, eyes fixed on the golden light filtering through the curtains, feeling the weight of him against me.

He was warm. Solid. Steady.

Safe.

Something deep in my chest ached.

But then his arm twitched, his fingers flexing against my stomach. His breath hitched.

I squeezed my eyes shut, pretending to still be asleep.

A pause. A long, deep inhale.

And then—slowly, carefully—he pulled back.

Not all the way.

But enough.

Enough for me to miss the weight of him.

I turned over onto my back, forcing myself to meet his gaze.

Caelum’s green eyes were shadowed, his expression unreadable.

Neither of us spoke.

The silence stretched between us, thick and charged, words unspoken in the space where his arm had been.

And then—so quietly, so carefully, as if he were afraid to shatter whatever fragile moment this was—he murmured, “Morning.”

I swallowed. “Morning.”

We didn’t move.

But then the knock on the door shattered everything.

“Alpha,” a voice called from the hall. “The council is waiting.”

Caelum’s jaw tightened.

He exhaled sharply, pushing himself up. “I’ll be there.”

I took the opportunity to slip out of bed, ignoring the strange, aching sensation in my chest as I reached for my robe.

Caelum stood, running a hand through his hair before looking at me.

He hesitated.

Then, so quietly I almost didn’t hear it, he said, “You don’t have to come to breakfast if you don’t want to.”

I blinked. “Why wouldn’t I?”

A shadow crossed his face, but he only shook his head. “I just thought you might be tired.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

So I just said, “I’ll be there.”

And without another word, he left.

By the time I reached the dining hall, the tension from this morning had settled into a dull, restless hum beneath my skin.

The long wooden table was already filled with council members and pack leaders, their conversations low but steady.

I slid into my seat beside Caelum, forcing myself to keep my breathing even.

Just act normal.

Ellara caught my eye from across the table and shot me a knowing look.

I ignored her.

Caelum, to my surprise, barely glanced my way. His focus remained on the conversation in front of him, his fingers tapping idly against the table.

I hated how that made my stomach twist.

But then, as if sensing my gaze, he turned slightly toward me.

“I spoke to Korr this morning,” he said quietly, “about increasing security for the wedding.”

The conversation around us quieted slightly.

I straightened. “You still think postponing is a good idea?”

He hesitated. “I think it would be safer.”

I didn’t let him finish.

“No,” I said firmly. “We’ve spent too much time preparing already. Everything is ready.”

Caelum’s brows furrowed.

I met his gaze head-on. “We do it as planned.”

A beat of silence.

Then, to my surprise, one of the older council members nodded in approval. “The future Luna has a strong spirit,” he murmured. “She did well with the Luctus ceremony.”

A murmur of agreement passed through the table.

Caelum’s gaze lingered on me for a long moment.

Then, finally, he nodded. “Then we move forward.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

I went to training.

I had missed this.

The weight of a sword in my hands. The rhythmic dance of movement, steel meeting steel, the sharp sting of exertion in my muscles.

The past few days had been filled with war, with politics, with ceremony.

But here—on the training grounds—I breathed.

Loric grinned as he parried one of my strikes. “You’re slow today.”

I scowled. “I’m distracted.”

He arched a brow. “By what?”

I hesitated a second too long.

Loric smirked.

“Ah,” he said knowingly. “By who.”

I rolled my eyes, shoving him back. “Shut up.”

He just laughed.

But as I moved through the motions, my body working, my mind quieting—I couldn’t ignore the truth.

The truth that I was thinking of Caelum.

And I wasn’t sure I hated it.

Chapter 15

POV: Eve

Caelum join us in the training almost at the finish of the shift.

The training grounds were nearly empty, the sun sinking lower on the horizon, casting everything in gold and fire. Sweat cooled on my skin, my muscles aching in the way I loved—the way that reminded me I was alive.

Most of the warriors had already left.

Except for Caelum.

He stood across the field, sparring with one of the higher-ranked fighters. His movements were sharp, lethal, his muscles flexing beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. He fought like he commanded—with raw power and absolute control.

I should have looked away.

But I didn’t.

I watched as he landed a final strike, knocking his opponent back. A moment of stillness, then a nod of respect before they parted ways.

And then Caelum turned.

Our eyes met across the empty training ground.

I swallowed hard.

He didn’t speak as he approached, his green eyes dark with something unreadable.

Neither did I.

I took a slow breath. “Spar with me.”

His brow lifted slightly. “You just finished training.”

“So did you.”

Silence stretched between us.

Then, after a long pause, he sighed, rolling his shoulders. “Fine.”

I didn’t let myself think about what I was doing. I just stepped forward, lifting my fists.

He studied me, green eyes flicking over my stance, assessing, before he slowly raised his own hands.

And then we moved.

It started as a dance—sharp, familiar, intoxicating. I knew his movements well enough now to anticipate them, but that didn’t make him any less dangerous. He was still stronger, still faster. His presence alone was suffocating, and yet I kept stepping closer.

I had to be smart.

I ducked under his first strike, spinning away before he could catch me. His lips twitched, his stance adjusting.

“Good,” he murmured, approval curling around the single word like a caress.

Heat curled in my stomach. A warning I didn’t heed.

I moved again, aiming for his ribs, but he was faster. He caught my wrist effortlessly, twisting, sending me off balance. I barely had time to gasp before—

I was pinned.

My back hit the wooden post behind me, my breath catching as Caelum pressed forward, caging me in.

Too close. Too much.

My chest heaved, but so did his. His breath was uneven, warm against my cheek. A storm brewed in his green eyes, something dark and consuming.

I should shove him away. Push, run, break the tension snapping between us like a live wire.

But I didn’t.

Couldn’t.

His grip on my wrist loosened, fingertips grazing the inside of my palm before trailing up, brushing my knuckles, my pulse. A test. A dare.

My fingers twitched. Reacting. Yearning.

The air between us thickened, filled with unspoken things, with heat and restraint, challenge and surrender.

His gaze flicked to my mouth. My stomach clenched.

“That wasn’t fair,” I whispered, voice uneven.

His lips parted slightly, his hand skimming down my arm, over my ribs, settling on my waist.

“No,” he agreed, voice rough. Something primal. Something undone.

Silence stretched, vibrating with tension so tight it was unbearable.

And then—

He moved.

I barely had time to inhale before his mouth claimed mine.

It was a collision of heat and desperation, raw and reckless. There was nothing gentle about it, nothing patient. Just a clash of need and restraint snapping apart, his lips parting mine, his tongue sweeping in, stealing the breath from my lungs.

I gasped, my hands flying to his chest—whether to push him away or pull him closer, I didn’t know.

Caelum made the choice for me.

His hands tightened on my waist, pulling me in, consuming me.

I melted.

Gods, I hated myself for it.

But his kiss—it shattered me.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

I wasn’t supposed to want this. Want him.

And yet—

I trembled as his teeth scraped my bottom lip, a groan rumbling deep in his chest, vibrating through me. I felt him everywhere.

The world blurred.

All that existed was Caelum.

His lips. His hands. His body pressed against mine, solid, strong.

Mine.

The thought slammed into me like a shockwave.

And then—too soon—he pulled back.

We were both breathing hard, our foreheads nearly touching, the taste of him still on my lips.

Caelum’s grip on my waist tightened, hesitant, like he wasn’t ready to let go.

Neither was I.

But then reality crashed in.

This was Caelum.

The male who stole my choices. The male who took everything.

I tore myself away from him, his hands lingering for a heartbeat before—reluctantly, slowly—he let me go.

A long silence stretched between us.

Then, voice low, strained, he murmured, “Eve—”

I didn’t let him finish.

I turned, ignoring the fire in my chest, the way my lips still ached for his.

I walked away.

And Caelum let me.

The hot water did nothing to quiet my mind.

I sank deeper into the bath, letting the steam curl around me, willing it to wash away the fire still burning in my veins.

It didn’t.

No matter how much I tried to drown it, the memory of Caelum’s lips on mine lingered—his hands, his breath, his body against mine.

I pressed a hand to my chest, feeling the wild rhythm of my own heartbeat.

I kissed him back.

I wanted it.

And that terrified me more than anything else.

When I first came here, it had been so easy to hate him. He was a monster. A ruthless Alpha. He had stolen me from my home, forced me into this alliance.

Hatred had been simple.

But now…

Now, I wasn’t sure what I felt.

I stepped out of the bath, wrapping myself in a towel, avoiding my own reflection in the mirror. If I looked too closely, I might see the truth.

I dried off, slipping into a thin nightgown before climbing into bed. The sheets were cool, the room quiet.

But I wasn’t at peace.

I should go to his room.

Last night, I had. I had slept beside him, felt the steady rise and fall of his chest. I had been safe there.

But after what happened tonight?

I couldn’t.

I wasn’t sure what I would do if I did.

So I stayed. Sitting on the edge of the bed, holding myself to not go straight to his bedroom.

Until—

A knock at my door.

I didn’t need to ask who it was.

I felt him before he spoke.

The faint scent of pine and embers drifted through the space between us.

I exhaled shakily.

“Come in.”

The door opened.

Caelum stepped inside, his gaze locking onto mine, his expression unreadable.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Eve… about earlier—I’m sorry.”

Something sharp twisted in my chest.

I sat up straighter, my fingers gripping the sheets. “Are you?”

He froze.

I swallowed hard, then forced myself to meet his gaze. “Are you really sorry, Caelum? Do you regret it?”

Silence.

He didn’t answer.

He couldn’t.

I let out a breathless laugh, shaking my head. “You shouldn’t be sorry for something that was good.”

His eyes darkened. “You thought it was good?”

I bit my lip instead of answering.

Caelum’s entire body tensed, his hands clenching at his sides.

And before I could lose my nerve, I let the words pour out of me.

“I spent so much time trying to hate you,” I whispered. “You took me from my pack. You forced me into this. It should have been so easy to despise you.”

He didn’t move, but I saw the way his jaw flexed.

“I wanted to see you as a monster,” I continued, my voice trembling. “It would have been easier if you were. If you had been exactly what everyone said you were.”

A breath.

A pause.

“But you’re not.”

Caelum took a slow step forward.

I swallowed. “And I don’t hate you.” The confession burned as it left me. “I like you.”

It was such a small word for something that felt so much bigger.

And it terrified me.

“I shouldn’t,” I whispered. “I can’t—”

Caelum moved then.

He crossed the space between us in an instant, sinking to his knees before me.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

Seeing him like this—an Alpha kneeling—was wrong.

Caelum Alaric didn’t kneel for anyone.

But he knelt for me.

His fingers brushed against my jaw, tilting my face toward his. His touch was gentle, his gaze burning.

Then—

He kissed me.

It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t a hesitation.

It was a claiming.

His lips crashed against mine, and I melted, heat curling through my veins, my entire body trembling from the force of feeling too much all at once.

My fingers curled into his shirt, desperate, hungry.

He kissed me like he needed me to breathe.

Like I was his oxygen.

And I let him.

Because I needed him just as badly.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine. His breath was unsteady, his hands still gripping my waist.

“I never planned to fall for you,” he murmured, voice rough, raw. “This was supposed to be an alliance. A political marriage. Nothing more.”

I squeezed my eyes shut.

“But you—” His voice broke, just a little. “You won my heart, Eve.”

My chest tightened.

Caelum exhaled sharply. “I never thought I could feel this way again. After my mate died, I thought I was done. That there was nothing left in me.”

He swallowed.

“But then you walked into my life.”

A shudder ran through me.

I had never seen him like this.

Vulnerable.

Open.

Real.

I didn’t stop myself from kissing him again.

This time, it was slow, deep.

When we pulled away, he rested his hand against my cheek.

“You don’t have to sleep with me tonight,” he murmured. “Not if you don’t want to.”

But I did.

I did.

“I do,” I whispered.

Something flickered in his expression before he stood, holding out his hand.

I took it.

He led me to his room, silent.

This time, when we climbed into bed, we didn’t keep our distance.

I curled into him, resting my head against his chest, feeling the steady thump-thump-thump of his heart.

Caelum wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight.

And for the first time since coming here—

I didn’t feel like an outsider.

I felt like I belonged.

Chapter 16

POV: Eve

I woke up to warmth.

To strong arms wrapped around me. To the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek.

For a moment, I didn’t move.

I just breathed.

The scent of pine and embers surrounded me, familiar now, safe in a way I hadn’t expected.

Then, slowly, I became aware of everything else.

The way one of his hands was splayed against my back, the roughness of his fingers pressing lightly into my skin. The other tangled in my hair, holding me close even in sleep.

The way our legs were entwined, my body fitting against his like we had done this a thousand times before.

I should have pulled away.

I should have been terrified of this—this closeness, this intimacy.

But I wasn’t.

I wanted this.

I wanted him.

Caelum shifted, a deep breath rumbling in his chest before I felt the press of his lips against the top of my head.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.

I tilted my face up to look at him.

And gods—

He was beautiful.

His dark hair was tousled, falling across his forehead in a way that made him look almost… boyish. The sharp edges of his face softened by the morning light filtering through the window.

But it was his eyes that held me captive.

That impossible shade of green, still heavy with sleep, but watching me with something else. Something deep. Something real.

Something that made my stomach twist.

I swallowed. “Good morning.”

His gaze dropped to my lips.

And then, before I could second-guess it, before I could think—

He kissed me.

Soft.

Slow.

The kind of kiss that seeped into my bones, curling around my heart and stealing the breath from my lungs.

I sighed into it, my fingers curling into his shirt, holding him there, like if I let go, this would all disappear.

He pulled me closer, his grip tightening, his lips parting just enough for me to feel the warmth of his breath against my mouth.

It was a kiss that said stay.

A kiss that said mine.

And I didn’t fight it.

Not this time.

When we finally broke apart, he pressed his forehead against mine, his thumb brushing against my hip.

My heart pounded.

I could stay here forever.

Just us.

Just this.

But reality crashed back in, a heavy weight settling in my chest.

It was the wedding day.

By tonight, I would stand beside him as his wife, as his Luna, before his entire pack.

And the moment felt so big—so overwhelming—that for a second, I thought I might drown in it.

Caelum must have seen something in my expression, because he brushed his knuckles along my jaw. “You’re quiet.”

I forced a small smile. “Just… thinking.”

His grip on me tightened slightly. “Are you having second thoughts?”

I blinked, surprised by the rawness in his voice.

By the fear beneath it.

I reached up, threading my fingers through his hair. “No.”

His body relaxed, his exhale slow and controlled.

“Everything changes after tonight,” I whispered.

His gaze searched mine. “It already has.”

I swallowed. It already has.

The thought both terrified me and sent a strange kind of warmth through my chest.

I wasn’t the same girl who had been dragged from her pack, kicking and screaming.

I had changed.

And so had he.

Caelum kissed my forehead, his lips lingering for a second too long.

“Come,” he murmured. “We have a long day ahead of us.”

A wedding to prepare for.

A future neither of us had planned for.

And yet—

As he pulled me against him for one last moment, his arms caging me in, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear—

I wasn’t sure I would change any of it.

Caelum stands before me, bare-chested, the morning light carving golden lines across his skin. The silver scars across his body tell stories I don’t yet know, stories I may never fully understand. But my eyes are drawn to one place—the space between his neck and his shoulder.

The place where a mate’s mark should be.

But there’s nothing. Just smooth, unmarked skin.

The truth of it tightens around my ribs. A mate’s mark is supposed to last forever, a bond never truly severed even in death. But his is gone. Completely erased.

The weight of it settles deep in my chest.

Without thinking, I reach out. My fingertips brush over his skin, tracing the absence of something that once defined him. He doesn’t move, doesn’t pull away. His breathing is steady, but I feel the tension beneath his skin. He lets me touch him.

“Caelum…” My voice is barely a whisper.

“When Selene died, the bond faded,” he says, his voice quiet, rough with something unspoken. His eyes meet mine, unreadable yet filled with a weight I can’t name. “We thought it was because of the poison of the witches,”

I swallow hard. The moment stretches between us, heavy and unbreakable. My fingers trail lower, grazing over his chest, and his ribs. He exhales sharply, his muscles twitching beneath my touch.

I should stop. But I don’t.

His scars, his marks—they’re a part of him. And somehow, I feel like I’m a part of them now too.

“My mark will be here,” I murmur, my fingers still resting where his old one used to be.

Caelum nods. “By the end of today, it will be yours.”

My chest tightens.

This bond isn’t fate. It isn’t something the Moon gave us. It’s our choice.

And somehow, that makes it even more intense.

He finally moves, reaching for something on the nearby table. A small glass vial. The liquid inside is dark, thick, swirling as he tilts it. When he turns back to me, his expression is unreadable—but his eyes burn with something deep.

“Our bond isn’t natural,” he says. “Not completely. Our blood has to accept each other. The potion will help strengthen it—so when I mark you, your body won’t reject it.”

I hesitate for only a second. Not because I’m afraid.

Because this is real.

Because I want this.

I trust Caelum. He’s never forced me to trust him, never asked me to. But I do.

And I know, deep in my bones, that I can be happy with him.

“Do you have to take it too?” I ask.

His gaze softens. “Yes. A bond must be equal.”

Equal.

The word settles inside me like a slow-burning fire.

My heartbeat stumbles.

This isn’t just about him marking me. It’s not about power or dominance, about him claiming something that isn’t his.

It’s about both of us.

I take the vial from his hand. The glass is cool against my fingertips, but when Caelum’s fingers brush against mine, his warmth lingers. I exhale, lifting it to my lips.

He watches me like a predator watching something sacred.

And then I drink.

The taste is bitter, thick, heavy. It burns as it slides down my throat, like something ancient binding itself to my bones. But I don’t flinch. I don’t waver.

Caelum steps closer. He lifts his own vial, and without breaking eye contact, he drinks.

Something passes between us in that moment. An understanding. A silent promise.

I feel his hand skim my waist, light but grounding. His fingers trail higher, brushing along my collarbone. I shiver.

“This isn’t just politics anymore,” he murmurs. His voice is low, intimate, nothing like the cold, calculating Alpha I met days ago. “I never planned to fall for you, Eve. I never thought I’d feel this way again.”

My breath catches.

He cups my face, his thumb sweeping along my jaw. He’s so close, his scent wrapping around me, his warmth pulling me in.

“Caelum…” I whisper.

He doesn’t give me a chance to say anything else.

He kisses me.

Not rough. Not claiming. But deep, slow—like he’s savoring every second. Like he’s giving me something sacred.

I melt into it. Into him.

When we finally break apart, he rests his forehead against mine, his breath uneven. His hands tighten around my waist like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.

“You’ve won my heart,” he breathes. “And I will never let you go.”

I close my eyes, my fingers pressing into his chest where my mark will be by the end of the day.

I already belong to him.

Not by fate.

But by choice.

Chapter 17

POV: Eve

The halls of the pack house hum with quiet anticipation, the air thick with the scent of fresh flowers and polished wood. I slip out before the preparations fully begin, needing a moment to breathe—to take in the reality of what today is.

Today, I become his.

The thought doesn’t send me into panic like it once did. If anything, there’s a quiet warmth in my chest, something soft and hesitant but real.

Elara follows me as I step outside, into the heart of the courtyard where the ceremony will take place. The early morning sun spills golden light across the space, catching on the silken banners draped between the pillars, the elegant arrangement of wildflowers adorning every surface. But it’s not just any flowers.

It’s chamomile and lavender.

I freeze.

For a moment, I can only stare.

The gentle white blossoms of chamomile, the soothing violet sprigs of lavender—weaving between the decorations, tucked into every bouquet, their scent filling the air. A scent I know too well. A scent that means home.

I turn sharply to Elara. “Did you… arrange this?”

She smiles, a knowing glint in her eyes. “No. The Alpha did.”

My breath catches.

“Caelum?”

“He requested chamomile and lavender specifically. Said it should remind you of home.” She tilts her head. “And he had them planted in the garden by the pack house. So they’ll always be here.”

The warmth in my chest flares into something deeper, something impossible to ignore.

I look around again, this time seeing more than just decorations.

I see him.

In every detail.

In every choice.

He thought of this. He planned this.

For me.

I exhale, suddenly overwhelmed, my fingers grazing over the soft petals of a chamomile flower. The realization is a quiet storm inside me—steady, inescapable.

He cares.

I don’t know how long I stand there, lost in the moment. But when Elara gently touches my arm, I blink back into reality.

“Come,” she says with a smile. “You have a wedding to prepare for.”

Steam curls through the air as I sink into the warm water, the scent of essential oils wrapping around me. The tension melts from my muscles, leaving only the strange, quiet excitement thrumming beneath my skin.

I never thought I’d feel this way today.

Not about this.

Marrying Caelum was supposed to be a duty. A forced alliance. A bond I had no choice in.

And yet…

Here I am.

Happy.

The thought sends a shiver through me—not of fear, but of something else. Something dangerously close to hope.

Caelum has given me a choice in so many things. More than I ever expected. He’s fought for me. Protected me. And today, he made sure I’d have a piece of home in this place that is slowly becoming ours.

I close my eyes, letting the warmth of the water soak into me, letting myself believe—just for a little while—that I can have this. That I can have him.

When I finally step out of the bath, my skin is flushed, my hair damp as I wrap myself in a soft robe. I take a deep breath, steadying myself, letting the quiet happiness settle in my chest.

And then—

A knock at the door.

I freeze.

For a moment, I think I imagined it. But then it comes again—firm, certain.

My pulse spikes. I don’t need to ask who it is.

Caelum.

I exhale, something flickering to life inside me. I cross the room slowly, my bare feet silent against the floor. When I open the door, he’s there.

And gods, he looks like a storm and a promise all at once.

His green eyes darken as they sweep over me—my damp hair, my robe, the flush still lingering on my skin. Something flares between us, something that crackles like fire and feels like fate, even when I know our bond wasn’t given by the Moon.

I swallow hard, gripping the edge of the door. “Caelum.”

His voice is lower than usual, rough with something unreadable. “Can I come in?”

I don’t know why I hesitate. But then I step aside, and he moves past me, his presence filling the space.

The air is heavy, thick with something neither of us can name. He doesn’t speak right away, just looks at me, his gaze lingering on my hair, my bare collarbone, the place where his mark will be by the end of the night.

And then, softly—

“I wanted to see you before everything started.”

My breath catches. “Why?”

Caelum steps closer, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body. His eyes drop for a moment, like he’s gathering himself.

“You saw the flowers,” he murmurs.

I nod. “I… I was going to thank you.”

His gaze flicks up to mine, sharp, searching. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

A muscle in his jaw tightens. His hand lifts, brushing against my arm, barely there, but it sends a shiver through me anyway. His touch is warm, grounding.

“I wanted you to feel at home,” he admits. “Even if this isn’t where you thought you’d be.”

I stare at him, something breaking open inside me.

Gods, what are you doing to me?

Slowly, I reach out, my fingers grazing his wrist. I feel the pulse there, steady and strong, anchoring me to this moment.

I swallow, my throat tight. “I do.”

Caelum stills.

“You do what?”

I hold his gaze, my heart hammering. “I feel at home. With you.”

The air shifts. His hand moves up, catching my jaw, his thumb grazing my cheek. He exhales, his breath warm against my lips, and I can see it—the moment he decides.

And then he kisses me.

Soft. Slow. Like a vow unspoken.

Like the beginning of something unstoppable.

Caelum’s lips leave mine, but he doesn’t move away. He stays close, his breath mingling with mine, his forehead resting gently against me like he needs this—needs me—as much as I need him.

My pulse is still pounding, my body thrumming with the heat of that kiss. The way he kissed me—slow, deep, like he was memorizing every second—like he didn’t want to stop.

His hands slide down my arms, fingers tracing lightly over my skin, sending sparks through me. Then he exhales, his voice low, intimate.

“I have something for you.”

I blink up at him, still dazed. “For me?”

His lips tilt into the faintest smirk, but there’s something softer beneath it. Something vulnerable.

“Turn around,” he murmurs.

I hesitate for only a moment before obeying, the heat of his body at my back making it impossible to think. I hear the soft clink of metal, the shift of movement. Then his hands are on me again—one brushing my hair aside, the other slipping something cool and delicate around my neck.

I shiver.

When he fastens it, his fingers linger against my skin, a touch that feels more intimate than it should.

I look down, my breath catching.

A necklace.

Not just any necklace—an heirloom. The metal is aged but beautiful, the intricate design carrying a regal weight to it.

“The Alaric family crest,” he says quietly, his voice almost reverent. “It belonged to my mother. And before her, to my grandmother.”

I still, my fingers hovering over the pendant.

Caelum doesn’t do this. Doesn’t share his past. Doesn’t share his family.

But he’s giving me this.

His legacy. His name.

Like it’s something I deserve to carry.

I swallow hard, my chest tightening. “Caelum, I—”

“I have one more thing,” he interrupts, and when I turn, he’s already lifting something else.

A small velvet box.

My breath catches as he opens it.

Inside, a single earring gleams—a delicate custom piece, the metal shaped into something intricately designed just for me. A mixture of strength and elegance. Like him. Like us.

My heart stops.

“You had this made?” I whisper.

Caelum nods, his green eyes watching me carefully. “For you.”

I don’t think.

I act.

I kiss him.

I kiss him with everything, with the storm that’s been building inside me since the moment he stepped into my life.

Caelum groans against my mouth, his hands gripping my waist, pulling me flush against him. The necklace presses between us, cold against my heated skin. His lips move against mine—demanding, consuming, unstoppable.

His tongue slides against mine, slow and deliberate, a sensual claim that has my body melting into his. I gasp against his mouth, and he takes it, deepening the kiss until I’m clutching at his bare shoulders, clawing for something more.

His hands roam—exploring, teasing, sliding down my back, gripping my waist, pressing me exactly where he wants me.

I feel everything.

The heat. The desperation. The raw, undeniable need.

His name escapes me in a breathy sigh, and Caelum curses, his grip tightening as he backs me up against the edge of the dresser.

I gasp, my legs parting just enough for him to step between them.

And gods.

The way his body presses into mine—solid, powerful, possessive—I could drown in this.

Chapter 18

POV: Eve

I gasp, my legs parting just enough for him to step between them.

And gods.

The way his body presses into mine—solid, powerful, possessive—I could drown in this.

I feel him. Hard. Needing. Desperate.

This isn’t just about a marriage of alliance. This is real.

I am bare beneath the robe, my body exposed beneath his hands. But I don’t feel vulnerable. I feel worshipped. Wanted.

Caelum leans in, his lips trailing down my jaw, over my throat. His breath is hot, his mouth slow, reverent, like he’s memorizing the path. Then—his lips press to my skin where his mark will be tonight, open-mouthed kisses, lingering, as if he can already taste the bond forming between us.

A shiver rushes through me.

His hands move lower, fingertips brushing my thighs. Warm, firm, electrifying.

And then—his fingers slip beneath the robe.

He stops kissing me. Stops to look at me.

His green eyes dark, searching, watching my reaction as he teases my skin, his fingers barely tracing the sensitive flesh of my inner thigh.

My breath hitches, my heart hammering against my ribs.

He sees everything. The way I tremble for him. The way my body responds to him. The way I want this.

His hands leave my thighs and go to the robe.

Slowly—agonizingly slowly—he tugs the fabric down my shoulders.

He’s patient. Deliberate.

Giving me time to stop him.

I don’t.

I can’t.

The silk slides down, revealing more and more of me, inch by inch, until my breasts are bare beneath his hungry gaze.

I should feel exposed.

I don’t.

I feel worshipped. Cherished.

A low groan rumbles in his throat, his control fraying, and then—his mouth crashes over mine again.

This kiss is different.

Messy. Raw. Unrestrained.

He drinks me in, his hands sliding down my body, gripping, exploring, claiming every inch of exposed skin. And then—he goes lower.

His mouth descends.

Lips and tongue trailing down the curve of my neck, down my collarbone, lower—

My breath catches.

He kisses the top of my breast.

I whimper, my fingers tangling in his hair.

But I wasn’t ready for what happens next.

His mouth closes around my nipple.

I cry out, my head tipping back as heat floods through me, pooling low in my stomach.

Caelum groans, savoring the sound, his tongue circling, teasing, devouring me.

His grip tightens as he lifts me, setting me on the dresser, positioning me exactly where he wants me—his head level with my chest.

I gasp, my body arch into his mouth, into his relentless, sinful kisses.

He licks. Sucks.

Heat coils deep inside me, the tension winding tighter and tighter—

His hands move again.

One slides to my thigh, fingers tracing dangerously high, teasing the sensitive skin of my inner thigh—

Then higher.

His thumb brushes over my clit.

I suck in a sharp breath, pleasure sparking like lightning through my body.

I am seconds away from coming undone—

A sharp knock on the door shatters the moment.

We freeze.

I’m panting, my lips swollen, my body flushed and aching. Caelum’s head is still buried against my skin, his breath ragged, his fingers tensed on my waist like he’s barely restraining himself.

Another knock.

“Alpha,” a voice calls. “They need you outside.”

Caelum growls lowly, his lips ghosting over my skin one last time before he pulls back.

His blazing green eyes meet mine. Feral. Hungry.

I swallow, my voice barely a whisper. “I should… finish getting ready.”

His jaw clenches, his breathing still uneven. He exhales sharply through his nose, dragging a hand through his hair like he’s trying to regain control.

Then, his gaze drops—to the necklace still resting between my breasts. His fingers brush over the pendant, slow and intentional, before he murmurs,

“You’re already perfect.”

His lips twitch, almost teasing, almost dangerous, as he leans in once more, brushing his mouth over my ear.

“We’ll finish this later.”

And gods.

I might not survive this day.

Ellara hums softly as she fastens the final lace of my dress, stepping back to admire her work.

I exhale slowly, trying to settle my racing heart.

The potions Caelum gave me have been working through my body all day—slowly, subtly, making my skin more sensitive, my senses more attuned to the bond forming between us. I feel warm, a tingling hum beneath my skin, like my body is already anticipating his mark.

But it’s more than that.

It’s him.

I haven’t seen Caelum since that moment in my chambers, since his hands had been on me, his mouth on me, his voice promising—

I shiver, my skin prickling at the thought.

Ellara notices and grins. “Cold?”

I shake my head, but I don’t explain.

Because it’s not cold at all.

It’s him.

The bond.

The anticipation.

I lift my gaze to the mirror, and for the first time, I see myself fully.

My wedding dress is breathtaking, every detail chosen for tonight—the intricate lace along the sleeves, the delicate embroidery cascading down the bodice. The color is soft, not pure white but a shade warmer, like the pale glow of moonlight on skin.

My golden hair is styled with loose curls, strands twisted and pinned back with small silver accents. Ellara even dusted my cheeks with a hint of rouge, lined my lashes in kohl to make my green eyes pop.

I look…

Beautiful.

Ellara smiles at my reflection. “He won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

My stomach flutters, warmth spreading through my chest.

Gods, I hope so.

I stand, smoothing the fabric of my gown, my heart pounding harder now. It’s almost time.

And then—

A knock at the door.

It’s strange, yet familiar, like something long forgotten.

I turn, my breath caught in my throat.

Ellara moves first, opening the door—

And I nearly collapse.

My father stands in the doorway.

And beside him—my mother, her eyes already glistening with tears.

I make a choked sound, my hands flying to my mouth, my vision blurring instantly.

I never thought—

Never imagined—

That they would be here.

That this would be possible.

That Caelum would do this for me.

Emotion crashes over me so hard I almost faint from it.

“Eve,” my father breathes, stepping forward, his deep brown eyes soft in a way I haven’t seen in so long.

A sob breaks free from my lips as I throw myself into his arms.

I hold on tightly, like I might fall apart if I let go. My mother’s arms wrap around me next, warm and safe, her familiar scent making my chest ache.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” I whisper, pulling back to look at them, to touch them, to make sure this is real.

My mother smiles through her tears. “Caelum sent for us.”

My breath catches.

Of course he did.

Of course he did.

Gods, how could I ever think he didn’t care? How could I ever doubt the depth of his heart—even when he tries so hard to hide it?

And in my father’s hands, he held a bracelet.

Thin. Golden. Etched with ancient symbols that shimmered in the firelight.

“This is our family jewelry, our family legacy, and now I want it to belong to you,”

A fresh wave of emotion surges inside me, and I clutch my father’s hands. “Thank you, “I said when he started to put it around my wrist, “Stay with me a little longer?”

He nods, pride and love written all over his face. “As long as you need.”

I savor every moment. The sound of my mother’s voice, the warmth of my father’s presence, the way they looked at me so proud, so happy.

But time moves too fast, and soon—

It’s time.

Ellara steps back into the room, her gaze gentle but firm. “Eve, it’s time to go.”

A shiver runs through me.

This is it.

I turn to my father, my heart pounding.

He offers his arm.

I take it.

Together, we step out into the night.

The ceremonial torches are lit, lining the pathway to the altar, the scent of lavender and chamomile wrapping around me like a soft embrace. Caelum did this for me.

Caelum is waiting for me.

And gods—

I have never felt more ready.

Chapter 19

POV: Eve

The night air is thick with warmth, the scent of chamomile and lavender wrapping around me like a memory, like a promise.

The entire pack is here, gathered beneath the open sky, torches flickering with golden light. They are not just here to witness; they are here to celebrate.

To honor us.

And as my father guides me down the path, my chest tightens.

I had expected acceptance.

I had never expected pride.

It’s in their faces.

Their joy, their devotion—they are not just accepting me into their pack; they are welcoming me home.

My throat tightens, my eyes burning with unshed tears.

And then—

I see him.

Caelum stands at the altar, waiting for me.

And gods—

He is breathtaking.

The flickering torchlight bathes him in gold, casting shadows over the sharp planes of his face, over the strong cut of his jaw, the elegant slant of his cheekbones. His dark tunic fits him perfectly, the fabric rich and intricate, woven with subtle embroidery that glints under the light. A deep midnight-blue cape drapes over his broad shoulders, fastened by a silver clasp engraved with the sigil of his family.

A hooked belt rests at his waist, its leather worn but strong, a symbol of his power.

And his hair—

His brown hair is slightly tousled, like he’s run his fingers through it too many times. Like he’s been restless. Like something inside him has been unsettled since he last saw me.

But it’s his eyes that hold me.

That trap me.

Green, like storm-lit forests. Green, like the edge of a blade just before it strikes.

And yet—

I see the way his breath catches, the way his throat bobs, the way his fingers flex at his sides, as if he’s resisting the urge to reach for me.

As if he’s holding something tightly inside him, something fragile, something deep.

The way his gaze softens the second it lands on me—

It nearly undoes me.

I feel it when it happens.

The way his entire body stills.

The way the world seems to pause.

And then—

His lips part, just barely, and I hear his voice, so soft, meant only for me.

“I didn’t know you could be more beautiful than you already were.”

My breath shudders from my lungs.

The words hit me like an arrow, straight into the part of me that still doesn’t know how to accept this.

This care.

This want.

This undeniable truth in his voice.

My fingers tighten around my father’s arm as he guides me closer, closer—

Until I am right there.

Until Caelum reaches out, his fingers brushing against mine.

And gods—

His touch is warm.

Strong. Steady. A promise.

And in that moment—

I believe it.

I know what I mean to him now.

My father gives my hand one final, reassuring squeeze before placing it in Caelum’s.

And gods—

His touch is warm, strong, steady. He holds me gently, but there is an unmistakable possessiveness in the way his fingers curl around mine.

The wizard steps forward, his robes flowing around him as he raises his hands, calling for silence.

The murmurs fade, the torches crackling in the stillness.

The bond is to be sealed.

We do not share a mate bond by the Moon.

We are not fated.

Our true mates are gone.

But we are here.

We have chosen each other.

And that choice is powerful.

“Tonight,” the wizard begins, “we honor not just a union, but an alliance. A bond forged not by fate, but by will.”

A pause.

His gaze moves between us.

“A bond of strength. A bond of devotion. A bond of choice.”

Caelum’s grip tightens on my hand.

I exhale slowly, my heart pounding, my body buzzing with something deeper than nerves.

This is real.

The wizard steps forward, unsheathing a small ceremonial blade.

“The first bond,” he says, “is the blood bond.”

A hush falls over the crowd.

Caelum releases my hand just long enough to roll back his sleeve, exposing his strong, scarred forearm.

I do the same.

The wizard lifts the blade.

And then—

A quick, precise cut across Caelum’s palm.

He doesn’t flinch.

I follow, biting my lip, feeling the warmth of my own blood trickle over my skin.

And then—

Our hands meet.

Palm to palm.

Blood to blood.

A pulse erupts where our skin touches, like a current of energy, something ancient and powerful threading through our veins.

The wizard chants softly, his voice weaving through the night, carrying the weight of tradition and magic.

And I feel it.

I feel it settling into my bones.

Caelum watches me, his jaw tight, his eyes dark with something I can’t quite name.

A connection flares to life, deep inside my chest.

And gods—

I can feel him.

Not just his touch.

But him.

The depth of his emotion, the weight of his devotion, the unspoken promise in his hold.

The wizard named Kazzar, an ancient and powerful wizard, steps back, his gaze heavy with meaning.

“The bond is set.”

Caelum doesn’t move.

Neither do I.

Because this is only the beginning.

The marking comes next.

And tonight—

By the time this is over—

I will be his.

Kazzar steps forward, his voice carrying through the night as he calls upon the moons’ blessing. The flames from the torches flicker and dance, the air thick with magic and expectation.

“And with the mark, you finish the bond,” Kazzar’s voice was deep and I felt it on my soul.

Caelum’s fingers tighten around mine, his grip firm, grounding me, as if he can feel the rapid thrum of my heartbeat. I lift my gaze to his, and there— in those storm-kissed green eyes—is something raw. Something deep.

Something that will never let me go.

He cups my face, his thumb tracing the curve of my jaw, reverent. Possessive.

“Are you ready?” His voice is hoarse, thick with emotion and restraint.

I swallow, my pulse hammering, my body already attuned to his presence, as if the bond is anticipating what’s to come.

“Yes.”

Caelum smiles and doesn’t hesitate.

His lips brushed against my skin, taking off my hair, sending a shiver down my spine, before his teeth got replaced by his wolf’s and sank deep into the curve where my neck meets my shoulder.

The pain is a sharp, bright sting—

And then—

Pleasure.

It crashes into me like a wave, a rush of heat, electricity, and raw feeling.

A connection so deep, so absolute, that I nearly collapse into him.

I feel everything.

His desire. His devotion. The way his soul wraps around mine, pulling me in, binding me to him completely.

His fingers tighten on my waist, his body pressed into mine, as he holds me through it.

And gods—

The bond snaps into place.

I feel it latch, take root, spread through every fiber of my being.

I feel him.

Every inch of Caelum Alaric.

The depth of his want. The magnitude of his love.

It overwhelms me. It consumes me.

And I welcome it.

I gasp, my hands fisting into his tunic, my knees weak as the pleasure crashes over me in wave after wave, flooding my veins with warmth, with power, with him. He kissed the mark before letting me go.

And then, as the haze of sensation settles, I know—

I want him to feel this too.

I pull back just enough to meet his gaze, my breathing ragged, my hands sliding to his shoulders. His pupils are blown wide, his chest rising and falling heavily.

And yet, he doesn’t look away.

He watches me—

Waiting.

Bracing.

He wants this as much as I do.

I lean in, my lips grazing the place where his neck meets his shoulder, my heart pounding as I bare my teeth, my wolf’s now—

And I bite.

His body shudders, his breath catching—

And then I feel it.

The way his soul yields to mine.

The way our bond weaves together completely, fusing us in a way that is unchangeable, undeniable, eternal. I felt the pleasure of his bite, but I felt in mine too.

And in that moment—

I know.

I am his.

He is mine.

And I was always meant to be this way.

A roar erupts through the crowd, the pack howling, cheering, celebrating as the magic of the bond settles, as the finality of our union cements into existence.

The sound of their voices, of their acceptance, their joy, floods through me, filling every hollow part of me that once held doubt or resistance.

And for the first time—

I see this not as a curse.

Not as a chain.

Not as something I was forced into.

But as a blessing.

Chapter 20

POV: Eve

Kazzar steps forward, his presence commanding as he lifts his hands toward the moons above. The ancient magic swirls around us, a hum in the air, a force that settles deep into my bones.

“With the blessing of the moons, the binding of your blood, and the mark of fate sealed between you,” he announces, his voice resonating through the night, “I now declare you Alpha and Luna of the Shadowfang Pack.”

A thunderous cheer erupts. The warriors howl, the women clap, the elders nod in approval. The pack welcomes me as one of their own.

Caelum’s fingers brush mine, a silent promise, a reassurance.

I am his.

And he is mine.

As the crowd moves toward the great feast, I take a deep breath, soaking in the moment. The tension of the past few days melts away into something warmer, lighter.

Tonight, we celebrate.

The main hall of the packhouse is alight with golden torches and lanterns, the air rich with the scent of roasted meats, honeyed bread, and spiced wine. The long tables are overflowing with food, and laughter rings through the room.

Caelum stands tall beside me, his presence like a shadow of heat against my skin, his gaze finding mine even when we’re across the room.

Every glance.

Every touch.

Every smirk.

A game between us, a growing anticipation that coils tighter with each passing second.

I take a sip of wine, my lips tingling from the sweetness, but it is his eyes on me that make my breath hitch.

The celebration is in full swing when Ellara and Loric approach, their faces lit with joy.

Ellara pulls me into a tight embrace. “I knew you’d shine, Eve,” she whispers, squeezing my hands. “The pack loves you already.”

Loric grins, lifting his goblet. “I have to admit, I didn’t think I’d ever see Caelum look as…” He tilts his head. “Completely undone as he does around you.”

I glance at Caelum, who watches me from across the room, his hands clasped behind his back. His eyes burn with something darker, deeper.

“I think it’s safe to say,” Loric continues, smirking, “that our Alpha is thoroughly ruined.”

Ellara giggles, nudging me. “And so are you.”

A blush crawls up my neck, but before I can respond, Caelum is suddenly there, his palm settling on my waist, his lips at my ear.

“Dance with me,” he murmurs.

His voice is a gravelly whisper, his breath warm against my skin.

I don’t hesitate.

The moment we step onto the floor, the music shifts—a slow, intimate melody, the kind meant for lovers and whispered promises.

Caelum pulls me close, one hand at the small of my back, the other clasping my fingers.

“You’re enjoying this,” I murmur, my breath unsteady as I feel the strength of his body against mine.

His lips curve. “Enjoying what, exactly?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “The way they all look at us. How they celebrate us.”

His thumb traces small, slow circles against my back, barely there, but enough to make my stomach clench.

“I’m enjoying you,” he says, voice low and dark, his fingers tightening on my waist. “And I’m wondering…”

I inhale sharply as he lowers his mouth to my ear, his lips barely skimming the shell of it.

“How long will I have to wait before I finally get you alone?”

A shiver rakes down my spine.

The tension pulses between us, thick and unrelenting.

And when his lips brush my cheek—soft, teasing, promising—I know exactly how this night will end.

The celebration stretches late into the night. I say my goodbyes, hugging my family tightly, tears stinging my eyes as I embrace my mother and ruffle my little brother’s hair.

“Be happy, my sweet girl,” my father murmurs, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “You have a home here, always.”

I swallow the lump in my throat, nodding.

Then—

Caelum is there, taking my hand in his, his grip strong, sure, claiming.

“Come,” he murmurs.

And as we step away from the noise and into the quiet corridors of the packhouse, my heart pounds in anticipation.

I don’t know if it’s the wine, the bond, or just him, but every step feels heavier, every breath shallower.

Because I know—

This night isn’t over.

The moment Caelum brings me to his bedroom, he kicks the door closed with finality.

And then—

He looks at me.

Not just with his eyes, but with his entire being.

His emerald gaze darkens, hunger coiling in its depths, and I don’t just see his emotions—I feel them.

A raw, undone desperation. A need so deep it feels like a storm beneath his skin.

He wants me. Desperately.

To touch.

To taste.

To ruin me completely.

And tonight—

I will let him.

I want him to.

He steps closer, his presence like a force drawing me in, and when he kisses me, it’s soft at first. A whisper of possession.

A slow claiming.

But then he pulls back, and I watch every movement he makes—the reverence in the way his fingers trace the fabric of my dress, the way he undoes each button carefully, as if I am something sacred.

Like I am his devotion.

And gods—

I feel it.

The heat of his fingertips as he peels away the layers, revealing me inch by inch until I stand before him in nothing but my lace undergarments.

His breath shudders.

I see it—the way his chest rises and falls, the way his muscles tense, the way his eyes darken to something almost feral.

And then he kisses me again.

Harder.

Hungrier.

I feel myself melting into him as he walks me backward, lips slanting over mine, his hands branding every curve of my body. Until my legs hit the bed.

He presses me down gently, following me with his weight.

I reach for him, my fingers working to undo the clasp of his cloak, letting it fall to the ground in a heap of dark fabric. Then I push his tunic up, revealing his body—sculpted muscle, silver scars, the glowing mark on his neck.

And gods—

It fits him.

The bond.

The mark.

Me.

I brush my fingers over the bite, and I feel it—his pleasure at my touch, the way it rakes through him like fire.

A guttural groan rumbles from his chest, his eyes fluttering shut, his jaw tightening.

And then—

He’s on me again.

His lips blazing a path down my throat, lingering where he marked me. A possessive kiss, a claiming, a promise.

The moment his lips hover over the mark, I feel a jolt of white-hot pleasure sear through me, a sensation so intense it steals my breath.

I almost came right there.

A moan spills from my lips, helpless and needy, and he stills just long enough to look at me.

His smirk is pure sin, his voice husky and teasing.

“Not yet, honey,” he murmurs.

I whimper as he slowly unclasps my bra, sliding it off my shoulders, his lips tracing every inch of newly bared skin.

And then his mouth is on me.

His tongue flicks against my nipple, his lips sucking, teasing, until my back arches, a cry of pleasure leaving my throat.

He does the same to the other—worshipping, devouring, reveling—as if my pleasure is his own.

And I realize—

It is.

I feel it. The bond intertwining us. His hunger. His satisfaction in undoing me.

He moves lower, his lips scorching a path down my stomach, stopping just above the thin lace at my hips.

And when he hooks his thumbs beneath the waistband of my panties, he stops.

His eyes flick to mine, searching, waiting.

But he doesn’t need permission.

Because I already gave it.

The mark binds us.

The bond seals us.

We belong to each other.

So I lift my hips in silent answer.

His next movement is agonizingly slow—peeling the fabric away as if savoring the moment, as if burning the sight of me into his memory.

And then—

His thumb traces over my slit, a barely-there touch that has my hips jerking, my breath hitching, my entire body trembling.

I am already so wet for him, and he knows it.

His eyes darken, his voice a low, husky rasp.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, as if in awe.

His thumb moves up, circling my clit—slow, teasing, merciless.

I arch into him, my breath coming in shaky gasps, my body begging for more.

And then his mouth is there.

Hot. Wet. Devouring.

A sharp cry leaves me as he licks me, his tongue flicking over my clit before sucking it into his mouth.

I can’t think.

I can’t breathe.

I can only feel.

His hands hold my hips still as he feasts on me, lapping, teasing, consuming, his tongue slipping lower, tasting every inch of me.

My hands tangle in his hair, my thighs trembling as I grind against his mouth, against his tongue.

And just when I think I can’t take it anymore—

He slides a finger inside me.

A moan shatters from my lips, my body arching as pleasure crashes over me.

“Caelum—” I gasp, my hands tightening in his hair.

He doesn’t stop.

He adds another finger, his tongue working in tandem, drawing me higher, faster.

I break.

Pleasure detonates through me, a wave so intense my entire body shakes, convulses, tightens around him.

And still—

He doesn’t stop.

His fingers stroke deeper, his tongue flicking faster, dragging me into another orgasm before the first has even faded.

By the time my body finally sags, pleasure-drunk and trembling, he’s moving up my body, licking his lips, smirking.

The bond thrums between us, stronger than ever.

And as my pulse steadies, I don’t just see his emotions—

I feel them.

His satisfaction.

His happiness.

His absolute, overwhelming need to love me—to claim me completely.

And gods—

I am so ready for that.