Chapter 21

POV: Rowan

The Moonroot Temple. Sacred to the Valen bloodline. A place of peace, now a cage.

I stepped back, breath ragged. I didn’t feel powerful in that moment. I didn’t feel like an Alpha.

I felt like a man who might’ve already failed the one person who mattered.

But failure wasn’t an option. Not now.

I turned to my second, who’d been standing at the door, watching, silent.

“Mobilize the team. I want every loyal soldier geared in under an hour. Mages too. Only the ones cleared by the sweep. We move by midnight.”

“Yes, Alpha.”

I looked back at Menor. He slumped in the chair, bleeding, hollowed. I should’ve felt satisfaction. I didn’t.

“You’ll rot down here,” I said. “You won’t get a clean death. You’ll sit in the dark while the truth devours everything you ever protected.”

And then I walked out.

Because there was only one thing that mattered now.

Get to the temple.

Get her back.

And burn the world down if they tried to stop me.

I stood in front of the map table, staring at the red markers glowing across the ruins of Moonroot. Every second that passed, I imagined what they were doing to her. What her eyes looked like in fear. If she’d screamed for me.

I wouldn’t let myself fall into that spiral again.

But it was eating me alive.

A knock came at my door. Sharp. Precise.

“Come in,” I growled.

Dr. Strauss stepped inside, wrapped in her long black coat, eyes burning like she hadn’t slept in days. She looked at me like I was breaking.

“You’re leaving for the temple,” she said.

“Yes.”

“I need to talk to you before you go.”

I sighed, turning from the map. “If this is about the risk, I already know it. I’m walking into a trap. I don’t care.”

“It’s not that,” she said, stepping closer. “It’s about the cave.”

That made me pause.

“I showed my team the images your scout retrieved,” she continued. “From the wards carved into the stone, it wasn’t just a place of sealing. It was a bond vault. But not a usual one. A very specific kind. The energy imprint inside—it was ancient, Alpha-born, designed to suppress but preserve.”

I stared at her. “What are you saying?”

Her voice lowered. “I really believe is Lyra’s mate bond is stored in that cave.”

My heart stilled. I felt my wolf rise, clawing just beneath my skin.

“We knew there was a mate bond there because you said,” I said. “But we can’t be sure it’s hers.”

“We can’t be sure, but it makes sense and…” She stepped even closer. “Rowan… I believe you’re her mate.”

The air cracked around me. The lights above flickered.

“No,” I whispered. “She would’ve felt it. I would’ve felt it.”

“That’s the thing,” Dr. Strauss said, eyes sharp. “You do feel it. You’ve been drawn to her since the first moment. You risked your position, your pack, everything for her. But she’s… off. Unbalanced. Incomplete. Her wolf is silent, and she only responds to you.”

I said nothing. I couldn’t. My heart was trying to beat its way out of my chest.

“If that bond was sealed away before the curse, it would’ve fractured the natural recognition. The curse suppressed everything—even instinct. But you… you’re close. And that’s why her wolf stirs near you. It’s trying to remember.”

“She doesn’t know,” I said, quietly.

“No,” she agreed. “And she can’t—not until that piece of her is returned.”

I took a long breath. The pain of it hit me like a tidal wave.

She was my mate. My Luna.

And she didn’t even know.

“She woke up in this time for a reason,” Dr. Strauss said gently. “She woke up for you. But you won’t win this war with half of her. If you want to bring her home—if you want to save her—go to the cave. Get her bond back.”

I turned toward the window, the war map glowing in the dark behind me. The temple could burn to the ground while I wasted time. But if she was in there without her bond… if they were breaking her mind and spirit while she was incomplete…

I had to do this right.

I looked at Strauss. “You believe it’s really in that cave?”

“I do,” she said. “And if I’m wrong, then all you’ve lost is time. But if I’m right… you’ll be walking into that temple with your bond humming inside you. And Lyra will feel it.”

I nodded. Once. No words left.

She placed a hand over my arm. “Bring her home, Alpha.”

One hour later, I changed the plan.

The army would wait in the eastern glade—positioned, hidden. They’d strike the temple when I gave the signal.

But I wasn’t going to the temple first.

I was going to the cave. To that cursed, sacred place where they’d buried her soul.

I was going to get her piece back.

And when I did?

I’d burn the witches’ world to the ground.

The witches thought this place was forgotten. Buried in stone and time. But they’d underestimated me.

They always had.

Their cave stood at the edge of a long-dead cliffside, masked by illusion spells and binding wards. But I had Menor’s records. I had Strauss’s scans. And I had war mages ready to bleed beside me.

“This is it,” my Beta said, pointing to the jagged formation hidden by a weave of low fog and magic. “Third ward layer is vulnerable—just like the map said.”

“Then burn through it.”

He nodded. The front line of tech-enhanced mages stepped forward, firing shock-spells into the runes. The air crackedwith light. Ancient symbols glowed, screamed, and split like glass under pressure.

I didn’t wait for the smoke to clear.

I shifted.

Bone cracked. Heat surged. My wolf tore through my skin with a roar that split the mountains. And I ran.

Straight through the fire.

The witches inside weren’t many—but they were old. Their chants rose in a chorus as I broke the barrier. Flames twisted toward me, sharp as blades. My wolf snarled, ducked, lunged. I took the first one out with a swipe of my claws, the second with a bite to the neck.

My soldiers poured in behind me—silver blades drawn, magic bursting at their fingertips. I didn’t stop to lead them. I followed the scent pulling me deeper into the cave.

Her scent.

It was faint… but it was hers.

Lyra.

The deeper I went, the colder the stone became. The path narrowed. My human form returned as the magic grew tighter. Blood streaked the walls—rituals from generations long dead.

And then I saw it.

A chamber lit by a single blue flame. In the center stood an altar of carved obsidian, and floating above it—

A vessel.

Glass. Crystalline. Glowing with a light I couldn’t describe.

I stepped toward it, slowly. Every bone in my body trembled.

The closer I got, the stronger I felt it.

A pull.

Like the air itself knew me.

Was this it? Was this really hers? Was it… mine?

I reached for it—and the cave screamed.

Spikes of magic shot from the walls. A final protection spell. Fire, frost, shadow—all flared at once. I gritted my teeth, shoved my hand into the magic, burning my skin raw.

“I don’t care if it’s not mine,” I said aloud. “It’s hers. And she needs it. And I’m taking her back.”

A shockwave slammed into my chest, nearly knocking me to the ground. I stumbled. My hand bled.

But I gripped the vessel tighter.

My wolf howled inside me.

And then—

The magic broke.

The vessel dropped into my hand, soft and warm like breath. Inside it… the golden glow pulsed like a heart. Alive. Waiting.

Lyra.

I held it to my chest.

“Don’t worry, Princess,” I whispered. “I’ve got you.”

Behind me, my warriors cleared the cave. My Beta limped in, blood on his jaw. “Alpha, we’ve secured it. No one left standing.”

“Good.” I turned toward the exit, vessel still in hand. “We go to the temple. Now.”

“Rowan,” he said quietly. “Are you sure that’s her mate bond?”

“No,” I said, voice breaking. “But I’d die before letting it fall into the wrong hands. Even if it belongs to someone else… I’ll carry it for her.”

I stepped into the rising light of morning.

And for the first time in days, I felt like I was walking toward her.

Chapter 22

POV: Lyra

I woke up choking on incense smoke.

It clung to the air—thick and sweet and wrong. The stone beneath me was cold, the air colder. My limbs were slow to obey, like I hadn’t moved in days. Maybe I hadn’t.

Where was I?

My fingers twitched, testing the boundaries of movement. Not chained. Not tied. But I was trapped. The walls of the chamber were made of ancient rock veined with glowing sigils. They pulsed like a heartbeat—like something alive.

I sat up too fast. My vision blurred.

And then I saw her.

She stood by the flame, draped in dark violet robes, her long auburn hair braided with bones and obsidian. Her eyes, sharp and intelligent, locked on me like a hawk spotting prey.

“You’re awake,” she said, her voice melodic and mocking. “Good. I was starting to think you’d sleep through the end of the world.”

I swallowed thickly. “Who the hell are you?”

She bowed—graceful, theatrical.

“Veronica. Daughter of Selina the First. Grand Priestess of the Hollowfang. You’re in our temple now, Lyra Valen.”

The name echoed in my ears.

Hollowfang.

I had never heard it before, but I felt it in my bones. Like a toxin.

“What… is that?” My voice was hoarse, my throat dry.

She smiled like someone who enjoys delivering bad news.

“Hollowfang is more than a name. It’s a legacy. A union of witches, wolves, and men with vision. Your Council? Pieces of it belong to us. Menor? One of ours. Even in Rowan’s pack… we have ears. Always watching. Always guiding.”

I tried to stand and collapsed to my knees. Panic clawed up my throat. My wolf—still silent. Still gone.

“You’re afraid,” Veronica said softly, stepping closer. “Good. You should be. But don’t waste it. Ask me what you really want to know.”

“Where am I?”

“In a sacred place. A vein of power that runs through the earth, the same power your ancestors built their kingdom upon. Mungatna’s Temple. Your father believed he could harness it for good. But power doesn’t belong to the pure. It belongs to the strong.”

My chest tightened. “You… killed him.”

“No,” she said with a cruel shrug. “Your own kind did that. Wolves. Councilmen. The ones who feared what he was building—what you were becoming. But it was our idea. Our whispers. We offered them clarity.”

“And my mother?” I forced the words out.

She didn’t even blink. “She died protecting the law that would have made you Alpha. A queen with full dominion. They couldn’t have that. So we made sure it never happened.”

My vision blurred with rage.

“But you… you were our unfinished thread,” Veronica continued. “You were meant to die. But you were too young for the wolves to handle it. So we stepped in. We crafted a spell. A curse. One that should’ve burned you out completely.”

“Then why didn’t it?” I hissed.

Her gaze darkened.

“We don’t know. That’s what frightens us.”

She knelt in front of me, so close I could feel her breath.

“Something twisted that curse. You slept. And in the process… we took your mate bond.”

“What?” My voice cracked.

“We didn’t mean to. Not at first. It wasn’t the goal. But it was there, glowing inside you like a golden thread. We pulled it out… and it screamed. But we extracted it. Encased it. And it’s been our power source ever since.”

I shook my head violently. “You… you ripped it out of me?”

“It made you easier to break,” she said coldly. “No mate. No wolf. No magic. Just an empty heir locked in time. And yet—here you are. Awake. Dangerous.”

I tried to breathe but my lungs felt tight.

“And now?” I managed. “What are you going to do to me?”

Veronica stood, her expression suddenly calm. Too calm.

“We don’t know. That’s the problem. But don’t worry, Lyra. We’re watching closely. Because whatever woke you up… it’s coming for you.”

A pulse of heat shivered up my spine.

Rowan.

Somehow, I knew he was out there. I could feel him—burning through whatever stood in his way.

And when he got here…

He’d tear this place apart.

The silence after Veronica left was worse than her voice.

I sat in the cold temple chamber, heart thudding too loud, too fast—trying to piece together the ruins of my life. Of my kingdom. Of everything I thought I knew.

The Hollowfang.

A name I’d never heard until today, but one that had haunted me since the moment I woke up.

They had planned this. All of it.

Not just the fall of my parents, not just the erasure of my name, but the very end of the Valen bloodline. I wasn’t supposed to survive.

But I did.

Somehow, I did.

I pressed a hand to my chest where the bond should have been. A space that felt hollow. Empty.

They ripped it from me.

That thread of light. That warmth I’d never gotten the chance to fully understand. They used it as fuel. As power.

And yet…

I’d felt it flicker again.

In the shadows of Rowan’s touch.

In the kiss I never should’ve allowed.

In the way my wolf stirred every time he was near, even now when she remained weak and silent.

I didn’t know if it was fate, or chance, or the Goddess Herself—but I believed he was my mate.

And I believed he was coming for me.

Even if I hadn’t recognized him the moment I woke up…

Even if the mate bond had been fractured and hidden in some godsforsaken vessel…

He had to be the reason I woke.

Because what else could it be?

I stood slowly, testing my strength. My legs trembled, but I stayed upright.

The runes etched into the floor shimmered faintly, some of them pulsing in broken rhythms. I crouched to examine them. Protective wards. Old magic. Not infallible. Some drawn hastily. Sloppily. Like the witches had moved too fast, assuming I was still weak.

Idiots.

They thought taking my bond made me breakable.

They forgot I was born of wolves and war.

They forgot I was Valen.

I circled the chamber, searching for patterns, cracks in the enchantments, mistakes in the weave of power. I didn’t have magic anymore—at least not the kind that moved with spells—but I had eyes, instincts, and Goddess-blessed fury.

And I had time.

How long had I been here? A day? Two? It didn’t matter. Every breath brought me closer to something I couldn’t explain. A pull. A certainty.

He’s coming.

But something felt… off.

Not just the power humming through the stone or the runes scorched into the ground—but something deeper. Familiar.

I walked slowly, pressing my palm against the pillar at the center of the chamber. It pulsed faintly beneath my skin. Not with corruption—but with memory.

This temple…

The bones of it were ancient.

The carvings beneath the blackened soot were lunar symbols.

Crescents. Moondust patterns. Offerings to the Moon Goddess.

This had once been Valen.

My temple.

I staggered back, breath caught in my chest as recognition bloomed like a storm.

The altar—the one now painted in shadow and ash—had once been white marble. I had knelt there as a child. Lit candles. Whispered prayers to the Goddess in the light of the full moon.

The witches had corrupted it.

They’d cloaked it in blood spells and darkness.

But it was still sacred.

Still mine.

And I would reclaim it.

Not now—not yet. I wasn’t strong enough.

But soon.

The ground quaked—

A deep, reverberating boom shattered the silence.

I turned.

Doors blew open with the force of a blast, and the first wolf lunged through—teeth bared, fur matted with blood. Then more. Dozens.

Roars. Screams. Magic slamming into stone.

And then him.

Rowan.

Towering, enraged, his armor glinting with firelight, blood streaked down one arm as he cut through a line of witches like a blade forged by the Goddess Herself.

It was like the air split apart. Like fate cracked open.

“TAKE THEM!” a witch screamed, her voice thick with spell-venom.

The room erupted.

Wolves clashed with witches.

Spells flew in shards of green and gold.

Screaming. Shifting. Blood soaking sacred ground.

I screamed his name—

“ROWAN!”

He looked toward me—but two witches lunged at him, one with a dagger of shadow aimed for his throat. He turned, blocked, slashed—rage pouring off him in waves.

I tried to run to him, but hands grabbed me. I elbowed the witch back, tore my arm free, ducked under another spell that sizzled past my cheek.

This wasn’t a rescue.

It was war.

The temple blazed with chaos, the altar cracking beneath the weight of power—good and evil, tangled and battling for control.

Rowan fought like a storm. Fierce. Furious.

But I couldn’t reach him.

And he couldn’t reach me.

Not yet.

As I crouched behind the shattered remains of the Moon Altar, blood roaring in my ears, I looked up to the veiled skylight above—

And I prayed again.

Not just for survival.

But for Rowan.

For the bond.

For vengeance.

And as the battle raged on and smoke thickened, I locked eyes with him across the firelit chaos—

And for a heartbeat, I wondered:

Would he win?

Would we?

Or would this temple, my temple, become my tomb?

The battle didn’t slow.

It swallowed.

Magic lit the air in cracking bursts—spells sizzling, wolves howling, wizards shouting over the chaos. I ducked under a jet of flame, my heart pounding so hard it hurt. The temple groaned like it might collapse under the weight of so much power.

I scanned the room—

And found him.

Rowan.

His blade arced through the air, cutting down a witch cloaked in fire. His eyes blazed, half-shifted, a snarl curling from his lips. A force of fury. Of sheer, focused violence.

And he was surrounded.

Five witches. Six. More closing in.

No—

No, no, no—

A hand yanked at my arm. The witch beside me—the one who’d been holding me captive—tightened her grip, her nails digging through my skin like claws. “Don’t you dare,” she hissed.

My gaze flicked to the floor—

To the ground at her feet.

A fallen warrior. A dropped blade.

Close. Inches.

Moon, guide me.

I stomped hard on her foot, throwing my elbow into her jaw. She screeched. I dove, grabbing the dagger in one breathless motion, then spun—the blade slicing across her thigh. She fell back, screaming.

I ran.

I didn’t care about the spells flying around me, the rubble falling, the stench of blood and burned magic. I only saw him—Rowan—fighting, falling, surviving.

I ran to him like the world was burning.

“ROWAN!” I shouted.

He turned—eyes locking with mine—

Just as one of the witches lifted her hands.

A spell glowed between her palms. Violet. Vicious. Deadly.

She aimed it for him.

And I didn’t think.

I moved.

I threw myself in front of him.

The spell hit me like ice and fire all at once.

It tore through my chest—

Burned through my spine—

Collapsed the world around me.

Pain exploded, bright and endless. My knees hit the stone. My vision blurred.

“LYRA!”

His voice shattered around me.

I fell.

Rowan was there a second later, dropping to his knees, catching me before I hit the ground fully. The moment our bodies touched, I reacted instinctively—like my soul recognized him before my mind could. My body and my heart missed him so much, and the rush of feeling was a vicious mix of happiness and desperation. He was here. But so was the pain.

His hands pressed to my body, to the place where the spell had struck. But it was like trying to hold water in cupped hands.

I was slipping.

I could feel it.

I’d been cursed once before.

This feeling was close to that—too close.

Magic bled out of me—like threads unraveling from my soul. My wolf cried inside me, distant, fading. She’d been so quiet for so long… only waking in Rowan’s presence. And now—she was falling back into agony.

“Lyra—no, no, look at me—” His voice broke. “You’re going to be fine, you hear me? I’ve got you. I’ve got you—”

I tried to smile, but my mouth wouldn’t move right.

“It’s okay,” I whispered. “You came for me.”

He choked on a breath.

“I knew you would,” I whispered again, my body trembling. Cold everywhere now.

My fingers curled into his shirt, barely strong enough to hold on. “Rowan… if I don’t—if I don’t make it—”

“Don’t say that,” he growled, shaking his head, his grip on me desperate. “You will. I won’t let you go. I can’t.”

I could see the desperation in his eyes.

“You shouldn’t have put yourself in front of me. I was the one who was supposed to be hit.”

“I couldn’t let you be killed,” I whispered, the strength draining from my voice with every breath. “You’re a better leader than I am… The pack needs you. They need an Alpha. Not a relic like me.”

His brows pulled together sharply, tears glistening in his eyes.

“I don’t care what the pack needs,” he said, voice shaking. “I need you. You can’t leave me, Lyra.”

But I was falling.

Fading.

Like the Goddess had lit me once—and now, She was blowing me out.

“Rowan,” I breathed, my heart slowing, “…I think I was always yours.”

And then the world—

Fell to black.

Chapter 23

POV: Lyra

“Lyra. Please. Honey, open your eyes…”

His voice was a thread through the darkness. A tether. I followed it, even as everything inside me screamed to let go.

My body was so tired. My soul was tired.

But I couldn’t ignore him.

I forced my eyes open—just once. Just one last time.

The world was blurry. He was kneeling over me, his face streaked with blood and ash, eyes wide with panic and firelight. His hands trembling as he reached for something near his chest—his uniform torn, bloodied, but still there.

Then I saw it.

A vessel.

Glass, rune-sealed. And inside, something golden. Alive. Familiar.

My breath caught, even as I barely had the strength to breathe.

Rowan didn’t hesitate. He pressed the vessel to my chest—right above my heart.

“Come back to me,” he whispered. “Take it. Please, take it.”

The vessel cracked the moment it touched my skin.

And then—it shattered.

Magic exploded into my body.

I arched off the ground as it surged into me—threading, mending, igniting. The mate bond slipped back into my soul like it had never left, like it had always been there, waiting. I gasped, choked, burned with the sensation.

My wolf roared.

Awake.

Alive.

Fierce.

She rose within me like a storm, no longer curled in silence. No longer sleeping. She claimed my body with a howl that I felt through every cell. The pain vanished—replaced by overwhelming power. A flood of light. Of connection. Of home.

The floor beneath me cracked.

The runes the witches had drawn—wrong, twisted things—began to split, to fracture. Light spilled from beneath them. Pure. Silver. The mark of the Moon Goddess.

I knew this place.

Not from now—but from memory. From childhood.

This had once been a temple.

Our temple.

A place where I’d knelt as a little girl with my mother and prayed to the Moon. A place of protection. Of power.

The witches had desecrated it. But the magic knew me. It remembered me.

And now it was waking up, too.

Cracks raced across the stones, revealing silver veins of ancient power. The very ground glowed, rejecting the corruption, swallowing the dark magic and replacing it with something holy.

And when I looked up—when I looked at him—I felt everything.

The mate bond burned between us. Lust. Love. Destiny. Recognition.

Mine.

Rowan’s eyes glowed, his body tensing with instinct as he saw me—truly saw me.

And I saw him.

Not as an enemy. Not as a stranger. But as the other half of my soul.

We moved at the same time.

The shift overtook me like fire and light. Bones snapped, fur erupted, magic swelled, and we shifted.

Together.

Two wolves, meeting under the Moon’s eye. My white fur flashed with silver flame; his was dark and strong, his body massive beside mine. The bond sparked in our hearts like thunder.

I growled—low, feral, mine.

And he answered me.

The witches screamed.

“It’s not possible—she shouldn’t have survived—she shouldn’t have woken—”

But it was too late.

I was awake.

My wolf was awake.

And this temple was mine.

I lunged, faster than I’d ever been. Magic surged with every step, power erupting from the very ground beneath my paws. A witch lifted her hand to curse me—

I bit through her throat.

Another tried to run—

I was already there.

Rowan was beside me, tearing through them with savage grace, our wolves a storm. Blood and spells clashed in the air, but the temple itself fought with us. Wards fell. Shadows cracked. Light poured in.

This was our reckoning.

And I wasn’t done yet.

The last witch fell.

Rowan snapped her wand in two with his jaws, and I lunged at the final one standing, pinning her to the sacred stones now glowing beneath us. Her eyes were wild, her mouth open in a curse—but the temple did the rest.

Silver light erupted beneath her body, swallowing her spell whole. She screamed, and then there was nothing but smoke.

Silence.

A brutal, beautiful silence.

The air was thick with blood and ash and magic—but we had won.

All around us, warriors and wolves closed in, rounding up the remaining witches—those who had surrendered or fallen to their knees in terror. There would be no escape. No one would slither away to rebuild this horror again.

Now.

We stood before the Council.

Still bloodstained. Still ragged. Still breathing like warriors dragged straight from war.

Wearing guard robes the warriors had given us after we shifted back, we were taken to the infirmary to have our wounds reviewed. Rowan received bandages for silver cuts, and our eyes locked as he was being cared for. A smile bloomed on my face—my mate, right there in front of me.

But we didn’t have time to talk. We came straight to the Council. We needed this over.

But we were not broken.

The center of the Council—the true governing seat, those who had not been part of the conspiracy—sat in quiet, rigid attention. Around them, the exposed traitors stood in chains, heads bowed or held too high in stubborn shame. They knew it was over.

Rowan laid it all out flawlessly.

The documents from Gregory Calder. The names, the dates, the spells. Evans Calder’s betrayal. The false erasure of my law. The secret land transfer. Veronica’s whispered memories, pulled from her under truth-binding spells. The full, rotted web that had stretched from my time through his.

A root system of lies buried for a century and a half—now pulled into the light.

The Hollow Fang was finished.

Rowan’s voice rang through the chamber—calm, deadly.

“Lyra Valen’s law needed to be restored. It was the reason all of this happened—so the least we can do is give her back what was stolen.”

And beside him, I stood tall—no longer a relic, no longer a myth, no longer fading.

I was Alpha.

I was no longer a princess.

I was a queen.

His queen.

And I had survived.

The doors closed behind us as we stepped into the hall.

I exhaled—shaky, breathless, and free.

Rowan stood beside me, shoulders broad and solid, his skin still streaked with blood, arms wrapped in healing bandages. But he smiled—a real smile. His eyes were warm. Proud.

“I can’t believe it’s over,” I said softly.

“Me either,” he murmured, cupping my face with both hands. My body reacted to his touch, to his warmth. My soul reacted to his presence. And my wolf… she surged toward him.

“You were right,” he whispered into my hair.

“About what?” I asked.

“About you being mine…” His forehead rested against mine. “You waited 150 years to find me.”

“I’d wait even longer if it would still lead me to you.”

“Mine,” he murmured against my lips.

I’d reacted to him before—but nothing compared to now. With the bond restored, the magic alive between us, his nearness consumed me. I wanted to be kissed, claimed, wrecked by him.

Rowan reached for the door behind me, opened it, and gently pushed me inside.

“What are you doing?” I asked, even as my heart pounded.

He shut the door behind us. “I waited too long for my mate,” he said, smirking.

He kissed me—fiercely, hungrily—and I felt everything: the love, the longing, the overwhelming desire. I was already dripping from a single kiss. His mouth trailed down my neck, and I gasped.

“Rowan… this is someone else’s office…” I murmured, weakly trying to summon reason.

“I really don’t care,” he said, pushing me flush against him.

And Goddess, I didn’t care either.

Chapter 24

POV: Lyra

Rowan pressed me to the wall and crushed his mouth against mine.

There was no hesitation. No pause. No asking. Just need. His tongue swept into my mouth like he owned it—and maybe he did. Maybe he always had. We’d kissed before, touched before. But this was different.

We had chosen each other.

Now we were mates.

And the bond that once flickered faint and hesitant now burned through me like a wildfire. Every emotion, every sensation, was ten thousand times stronger—sharper, deeper, impossible to bear.

I moaned into his kiss as my hands found his neck, my fingers sliding into his thick, dark hair. It wasn’t soft. It was fierce, claiming, a tangle of tongues and breath and hunger. He nipped my bottom lip, tugging it between his teeth, and when he pulled back for air, his blue eyes locked into mine.

And I fell.

Right there, in his gaze—I fell. Into the depth, the fire, the devotion. Into the raw ache that lived between us.

He growled low in his throat, then dipped his head to my neck, lips brushing the curve before dragging lower. His teeth grazed that sacred spot—the one where his mark would go—and I gasped. Just the scrape of his mouth over it sent a jolt through my spine, a shockwave of pleasure.

My wolf surged. I felt her rise with me—felt her eyes overlap mine.

We both wanted him.

He kissed the curve of my collarbone, warm and slow and reverent, and I whispered, breath trembling, “Goddess… I waited so long for you.”

“I know, honey,” he murmured against my skin, his voice thick with hunger and tenderness. “A century and a half.”

And then his mouth closed over my nipple.

I arched into him with a gasp, the pleasure so sharp it almost hurt. My head hit the wall. My fingers dug into his shoulders. He sucked, slow and deliberate, his tongue circling, and all my thoughts shattered into need. Into him.

I opened my eyes for just a second—realizing, vaguely, that we were still in someone’s office. Probably a Council member. The room right beside the chamber where we’d just taken down the conspiracy that cursed me.

But we couldn’t wait.

We hadn’t even made it ten steps before falling into each other.

And now, gods help me, I didn’t care.

He kissed lower—my other breast, his teeth catching lightly on the peak. I whimpered, my inner monologue dissolving into nothing but sensation.

It was so fucking good.

His fingers found the strap of my robe and slid it down, inch by inch, lips following the descent to my belly. He sank to his knees before me like a worshipper. Like a male made for this—for me.

I looked down at him, breathless, over my lashes. His hands gripped my thighs and parted them, and I knew exactly what was coming.

Rowan smirked. Predatory. Possessive.

And then he kissed me.

There.

His mouth brushed over my slick heat, featherlight at first, like he was savoring me. Then his lips sealed over my clit, sucking hard, and I cried out, my hand flying to his hair.

“Rowan—” I moaned, half a plea, half a prayer.

He didn’t stop. He licked, sucked, teased—devoured me.

And then his voice, low and rough, broke through the haze:

“Oh, I missed these sounds so much.”

He slipped a finger inside me, slow and deep, curling it just right, and my hips bucked. My hands clutched his hair, needing more, grounding myself to the only thing that felt real—him.

The pleasure built fast. Sharp. Relentless. Moans escaped from my throat without control. I was shaking, unraveling, undone.

Rowan pulled back just an inch. His voice was command and worship all in one:

“Come for me, my Queen.”

Queen.

Shit.

That was all it took.

I shattered—hard and fast, my body convulsing as I moaned his name. The pleasure slammed into me like a wave, taking me to the edge and beyond. I felt like I was floating, spinning, drowning in him.

And he held me through all of it.

I was still trembling when Rowan kissed his way back up my body.

His mouth trailed over my stomach, my ribs, my breastbone—until I pulled him to me, and our lips clashed together. The kiss was messy and hungry, and I could taste myself on his tongue. He wanted me to taste it. He kissed me slow and deep, giving me that flavor—our flavor—and I devoured it, savoring the wildness of it all.

My hands moved down his chest, fingers tugging at the tie of his robe. I opened it slowly, reverently, letting the fabric slide down his broad shoulders, over his sculpted chest, down to his waist. I dropped it to the floor, and then his feet—bare and strong—stood grounded before me.

He was so beautiful.

So hard. So ready.

My fingers slid over his chest, his abdomen, trailing lower until I wrapped them around his thick, heavy cock.

He hissed through his teeth.

And I smiled.

Now it was my turn.

I dropped to my knees before him, never breaking eye contact. I knew he hadn’t expected it—not here, not now—but the wild look that crossed his face was worth it. His hand shot to my hair, gripping gently but firmly, and his breath stuttered as I took him into my mouth.

His hips jolted forward at the first stroke of my tongue. The sound that broke from his throat was low, guttural, and completely unrestrained.

I moaned around him, loving the way he unraveled for me.

I worked him slowly at first, then deeper, hollowing my cheeks as I moved back and forth, teasing him with lips and tongue. His fingers tangled in my hair tighter, grounding himself, but his control was slipping.

“Lyra…” he groaned. “Fuck—”

His pleasure echoed through our bond, and it made my body ache, made my orgasm still buzzing from before hum even louder. I felt everything he felt. I wanted everything he wanted. And he was so close—I could taste it in his pulse, in the way his thighs trembled, in the sharp sound of my name falling from his lips again.

But he didn’t finish.

He held my jaw and gently pulled me up, kissing me hard, crushing me back into the wall. His hand slid down, positioning himself at my entrance.

We didn’t speak.

We didn’t need to.

He lifted my thighs, using the wall to brace us, and then he entered me—slow, thick, and deep.

My head dropped back with a gasp as I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, my legs clinging to his hips. We moved in unison, desperate and steady, like we were made for this rhythm. Made for each other.

My nails dug into his back as the pleasure built between us again—faster this time, stronger. Our bond amplified everything. His pleasure was mine. His moans fed mine. Our breath tangled, our bodies trembling.

He thrust deeper. Harder.

And I knew he was close. We were close.

So I tilted my head, exposing my throat. Giving him everything.

It was the final gesture of submission.

Not of weakness—but of trust.

Of devotion.

Of love.

I was his. His mate. His equal. His Queen.

Rowan’s canines lengthened, his eyes glowing as he let out a sound I felt in my soul—and then he bit.

The piercing was sharp, sudden—but the pain dissolved instantly into a pleasure so powerful I screamed. It crashed through me like lightning, and I came—hard, clenching around him as stars danced behind my eyes.

I was weightless. Unmoored. Floating in pure, euphoric ecstasy.

But I wasn’t done.

My wolf surged up, and I knew what I needed.

I turned my head, baring my teeth—and I bit him back. Right at the base of his neck. Marking him as mine. Claiming him.

His blood touched my tongue—hot and sweet like honey and fire—and he roared as he spilled inside me, his body locking with mine as our pleasure crested together.

The bond sealed between us like fire meeting oil.

We were one.

I licked my lips, still tasting him, and rested my forehead against his. Our breaths were wild. Uneven. Shared.

He looked at me like I was everything.

“Mine,” he murmured. “My Queen.”

And I smiled, breathless and wrecked.

“Mine,” I whispered. “My King.”

Chapter 25

POV: Lyra

We didn’t even make it back to the council room.

The second we claimed each other—marked each other, bled and bonded and shook the fucking walls with it—we fled like fugitives. Straight into the night, into his car, into his arms. And then into our place. Valen’s pad, my family’s ancestral estate.

My home.

Only now it smelled like him, too.

And since then? We haven’t stopped.

We fucked like we were starving. Again and again. On his bed, against the wall, once on the damn floor because we didn’t make it that far. We couldn’t stop. Not when our bond was new and raw and howling between our ribs. I wanted to drink him, drown in him. He touched me like he needed to memorize every inch of me, as if he was afraid I’d vanish again.

But now… now the storm had passed.

And I was waking in the quiet after it.

My cheek rested against his bare chest, the rhythm of his heartbeat like a slow, sacred drum beneath my skin. One of his arms was heavy around my waist, the other tangled in my hair. His scent wrapped around me like the thickest blanket—pine and storm and Alpha.

I didn’t want to move. I just breathed him in.

His legs were tangled with mine. We were both naked, bodies still humming from the night before. The mark on my neck throbbed with a warm ache. My own bite on his shoulder, just below the curve of his throat, looked like a blooming scar. I smiled.

Mine.

He stirred beneath me, mumbling something that sounded like my name and “more,” half-asleep, half-desperate.

I rose slowly, letting my fingers trail across his skin. His abs twitched beneath my touch. I kissed his collarbone, then his neck. I climbed up his body, slow and quiet, until our foreheads touched.

“Hey,” I whispered. “You awake?”

His eyes fluttered open. Blue. Stormy. A little dazed.

“Fuck,” he rasped, voice deep and ruined from groaning my name. “You’re dangerous.”

I smiled. “You marked me. You knew what you were doing.”

“I didn’t know it would feel like this.”

His hand cupped my cheek. Thumb brushed beneath my eye. We just looked at each other. Mates. Real, chosen, bonded. Not by fate. By fire.

I kissed him slow, deep, tasting him. Tasting us. I felt the moan curl up from his chest into my mouth.

He rolled onto his back, letting me straddle him. My thighs bracketed his hips, and his cock hardened beneath me instantly. I wasn’t ready to ride him again just yet—not yet—but I let myself grind against him, slow and teasing.

“Do you think they’re still cleaning up the council chamber?” I asked, my breath brushing his lips.

He huffed a laugh, low and wrecked. “Probably burned the chair.”

“I’m not sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be.”

He kissed me again, slower this time. My hips rolled gently against him, and I felt him exhale like it knocked the air from his lungs.

“I love this,” I whispered. “Waking up on your chest. The quiet. Just us.”

“We deserve some quiet.”

“Do we?” I tilted my head. “Because I think I still owe you for what you did with your mouth last night.”

His grin was sinful. “You already paid me. Screamed loud enough to shake the windows.”

I dipped my head, kissed his jaw, his throat, let my hand slide down his chest. I circled his nipple with my fingertip just to watch him squirm.

“You said we deserved quiet,” I said. “I’m just trying to ruin it.”

He caught my wrist. Brought my fingers to his lips. Kissed them. Then whispered:

“I want all of it with you, Lyra. Not just the fire. The kingdom. The fight. This, too. The mornings. The small things. You in my bed. Your laugh echoing in my halls. Our rule, together.”

Our rule.

Together.

I stared at him, heart thudding. I bent forward, lips at his ear.

“Then let’s build it. Side by side. Alpha and Alpha. King and Queen.”

His hands slid to my hips, and he held me there, eyes burning into mine.

“Say it again.”

I leaned down until my lips barely brushed his.

“My king.”

And then I kissed him—long, slow, melting.

Letting him know that yes, the war still waited.

But right now, the queen was worshipping her king.

So I kept kissing my way down his body—his throat, his collarbone, his chest—slow and reverent. My lips barely brushed his skin, but it was enough. I felt him shiver beneath me.

“I used to be so angry with you,” I murmured against his sternum, letting my fingers trail beside my mouth, soft and slow. “When I first woke up.”

His abs tensed beneath my lips. I kissed lower, to the hard plane of muscle, his skin already warm and tight with need.

“I thought you were my enemy, Rowan. Thought you stole the throne from me.”

He sucked in a breath as I reached his lower belly, tracing the V of muscle that pointed to where he throbbed, heavy and flushed, against his stomach.

“I didn’t realize,” I whispered, lips brushing just above his cock, “that you were only holding the throne. Keeping it warm. So I could rule it with you.”

His eyes snapped open. His entire body shuddered.

“Fuck, Lyra…” he groaned, as I wrapped my hand around him and stroked slow—deliberate.

I loved watching his control fray. The way his storm-colored eyes locked on mine, trying to hold on to logic, to thought, while I worshipped him like a god.

“It’s an honor to rule with you,” he gritted out, breath hitching as I dragged my tongue along the head of his cock.

I smirked. Gods, I loved how he could talk politics while I had him like this. Powerful and wrecked and mine.

I took him in my mouth, slow and deep, and I felt everything—through the bond, through his moan, through the grip of his hands in my hair. I moved with purpose, with heat, with promise. And he fell apart for me. Just for me.

He growled low in his throat, eyes wild, and then he grabbed my jaw and pulled me up, flipping me under him in one fluid motion.

“My queen,” he rasped, voice wrecked with lust and reverence.

He pinned my wrists above my head, body heavy over mine. His cock nudged at my entrance, thick and ready.

“I need to be inside you.”

“As you wish, my king,” I breathed, already arching into him.

He entered me slow, deep, claiming every inch like it was sacred ground. I gasped. It was too much. It was perfect. I wrapped my legs around his waist and let him take me—powerful, slow, consuming.

He fucked me like I was his home. Like he needed this to breathe.

And I gave him everything.

I loved how he held me there—Alpha to Alpha—but I still let go with him. I wanted to lose control. Just for him. Always for him.

He rolled his hips deeper, dragged himself out slow, then slammed back in, groaning my name like a vow. One hand released my wrist and slid between us, circling my clit with devastating precision.

I shattered.

My orgasm hit hard, raw and beautiful. My body clenched around him and he growled deep in his chest, spilling inside me with a thrust and a curse and a groan of my name.

We rode the waves together, tangled in heat and sweat and heart.

And then, as the world stilled, he didn’t let me go.

He collapsed gently over me, burying his face in my neck. Our foreheads touched. Our bodies pulsed in time.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice cracked open.

And gods, I felt it. Through the bond. Through his mark. Through every shattered part of me that finally found a home in him.

I hadn’t said it yet. I hadn’t let myself say it.

But now? With him still inside me, heart beating against mine, the world shifting on its axis?

“I love you too,” I breathed, kissing him like it was the beginning of everything.

Chapter 26

POV: Lyra

The dress clung to my hips as I adjusted the fabric over my ribs. Dark red velvet, cut with a deep neckline and soft sleeves that hung off my shoulders. It felt like a battle flag—regal, heavy, intentional. The color of blood and birthright. The kind of color you wore when you didn’t just survive—you returned.

My hair was half up, twisted with silver pins. A crown wouldn’t come until later, but the weight of this moment pressed into my chest like it already sat there.

I turned slightly in the mirror, smoothing the skirt. It brushed just above the floor, leaving the tips of my bare feet visible beneath the hem. No pants today. No armor. Just me.

“I thought you left me in that bath to drown,” Rowan’s voice rumbled behind me, warm and amused.

I caught his reflection in the mirror—bare chest glistening, towel low on his hips, steam still rising from his skin like he was carved out of fire and water.

“I needed time to get ready,” I said, eyes narrowing as I met his gaze through the glass.

He stepped behind me, his arms slipping around my waist as if they belonged there—because they did. His lips brushed the curve of my neck, just where his mark pulsed beneath my skin.

“Mmm,” he hummed, teasing. “You needed time away from me to get ready. Admit it.”

“I needed time to breathe,” I said with a smirk, leaning back against him. “You keep distracting me.”

“We were bathing,” he said, feigning innocence as his mouth ghosted over my shoulder.

“You were doing very unholy things in that bath.”

His chuckle rumbled low and soft. “You didn’t seem to mind.”

I felt the memory flash through the bond—his hands under the water, the way he held me against the marble wall, my legs wrapped around his waist as we moved in slow, sensual rhythm.

“I didn’t,” I admitted, tilting my head to press a kiss to his jaw. “But I do need to get dressed sometime. People are expecting their Luna and Alpha. Their Queen and King.”

He exhaled a long breath against my skin. “I like the sound of that.”

I turned in his arms, laying my palms against his chest, still damp from the bath. “Do you think they’ll accept me?”

He stilled.

Then he cupped my cheek, serious now. “Lyra… they’ll worship you.”

I tried to scoff, but he stopped me with a kiss, gentle and grounding.

“And if they don’t,” he murmured, lips brushing mine, “they’ll answer to me.”

That made me smile. “You sound very possessive.”

“You’ve seen me fight,” he said. “You should know how far I’ll go for what’s mine.”

I bit my bottom lip. “Well, I’m not wearing pants.”

“I noticed.” His eyes dropped to the curve of my hips, the slit of thigh visible between folds of fabric. “You really never will, will you?”

“Only for training,” I said firmly. “And even then, I’ll complain.”

He laughed and kissed the corner of my mouth. “Compromise. You can wear skirts that reach your ankles. I’ll still know what’s underneath.”

“I bet you will,” I said dryly, and he laughed again, this time pressing me back toward the mirror, not with force but with a familiar hunger. His hands smoothed over the velvet at my waist, gripping gently.

“Do we have time for—”

“No,” I said firmly, pressing a finger to his lips. “We’ve had three rounds this morning.”

“Four.”

“Gods,” I muttered, but I was smiling. “We’ll be late.”

He grinned. “You’re already glowing. You might as well walk in looking like I just—”

“Rowan.”

He kissed my forehead. “Fine. I’ll behave.”

“For now,” I warned.

He stepped back, finally going to dress. I turned to the mirror again, heart thudding in my chest. My fingers trembled slightly as I touched the edge of my neckline.

Soon, I would walk into the Hall of Wolves.

And this time—not as a girl returned from sleep.

But as Queen.

The platform overlooked the great central square of the pack, and it was packed. Wolves filled every ledge, every step, every corner of rooftop space—silent, waiting, holding their breath. I stood just behind the stone archway, hidden from sight for now, heart thundering beneath the velvet of my dress.

I could see him before anyone else did.

Rowan stepped into the light, tall and striking in a perfectly tailored black suit that did terrible things to my composure. The cut hugged his shoulders, tapered to his waist, and the sleeves pulled ever so slightly when he lifted his hand in greeting—just enough to remind me what was beneath the fabric.

His blue eyes glinted in the morning sun.

Gods. That suit should be illegal.

My mind flooded with images from hours ago—his mouth on my neck, water gliding over his skin, the way he groaned when I clenched around him, how I could feel every delicious movement through our bond.

Lyra.

His voice slid into my mind like heat. I startled, barely holding back a smile.

Honey, we’re going to do all that again. Later.

His tone was half-restrained, half-laughing. But if you keep fantasizing about me naked right now, I swear I won’t be able to speak in front of our entire pack.

I smirked and bit my lip.

“Fine,” I murmured under my breath. “But I expect a full repeat later.”

He didn’t answer. Just sent a wave of promise so strong through our bond it made my toes curl.

Rowan lifted his hands now, calling the crowd to attention. Silence spread like a breath before a howl.

“My people,” he began, voice steady and powerful. “My pack.”

Every pair of eyes locked on him. He didn’t need a microphone. He was Alpha.

“For years, I have led you with no one at my side. I told myself that was my choice. That a mate wasn’t meant for me.” His voice softened for a moment. “And most of you knew I’d given up on that dream.”

The crowd was silent, reverent.

“You also know that I’ve always honored our past. That the Sleeping Princess was more than a myth to me. She was a symbol. Of our magic. Of the Moon Goddess. Of everything we lost and everything we kept.”

A pause.

“What I never knew… was that she wasn’t just a symbol. She was a Queen waiting for her time.”

His voice rang out strong now, rich with emotion.

“I present to you—Lyra Valen. My mate. My Luna. And your Queen.”

He turned toward me, stretching out his hand through the archway.

My breath caught.

This was it.

I stepped forward, velvet swaying around my legs, my pulse beating like a war drum. The second they saw me—gasped, cheered, howled—I felt it. Not fear. Belonging.

Rowan’s hand closed around mine. Strong. Sure. Home.

The sound around us swelled—cheers and stomping, howls echoing through stone and sky. I saw tears in some eyes. Wolves hugging. Elders bowing their heads.

They weren’t just cheering for a Luna.

They were cheering for me.

I swallowed hard and stepped up beside him.

“I…” I blinked, steadying myself. “I want to say something.”

The crowd hushed.

“My name is Lyra Valen. I was cursed. My parents were murdered. And for one hundred and fifty years, I slept while the world moved on.”

My voice shook. I didn’t stop.

“They once ruled these lands with honor and strength. They taught me that leadership is not about control, but about care. That we serve the pack—not the other way around.”

A few wolves nodded, murmuring softly to one another.

“When I woke… I was angry. I thought the Dareth family had stolen my kingdom. That my throne was gone.”

I turned to look at Rowan. His jaw was tight, but his eyes held only pride.

“But I was wrong.”

I looked back to the crowd.

“They didn’t steal it. They saved it. When the Valens couldn’t protect this land, the Dareth family did. They kept the pack alive. They built something worth waking up for. And I will never stop being grateful for that.”

Rowan’s hand tightened around mine.

“That’s why I stand here today. Not alone. Not broken. But whole—because of you. And because of him.”

A wave of quiet emotion swept through the people. I felt it in the way they watched me—not as a relic. But as one of them.

“I don’t want to rule over you. I want to lead with you. And with him. As Luna and Alpha. As Queen and King.”

The howls broke like thunder.

The sound vibrated through the platform, through my chest, through my very bones. I felt it in the ground beneath my feet.

We were no longer ghosts of the past.

We were the future.

And we were going to rule it—together.

Chapter 27

POV: Lyra

The Throne Hall was the first place I went after I woke up.

The guards said the Alpha was there—and I still remember seeing Rowan for the first time, sitting on the throne that once belonged to my father.

He was the Alpha then. And I hated him, even as I reacted to him. Even as I saw how handsome he was.

Even in my wildest dreams, I never imagined all of this could feel so perfect.

I remember myself as a little girl, running barefoot through these halls, watching my father and mother seated on those thrones. They always said that one day I would sit there too. They changed the law to guarantee it.

And now, I was taking it.

With him.

With Rowan.

I could feel it the moment I stepped inside: magic humming through the air like a sleeping giant, stirring at my presence.

The Hall was cathedral-tall and wolf-heart ancient—vaulted stone ceilings, crescent carvings laced in silver, a great circular window above the dais that framed the early evening sky. Two thrones waited at the center.

One carved from moonstone and obsidian.

The other, dark wood and wolf-steel, crowned with gold filigree and a single sapphire in the center.

I stepped in first, breathing in the memory of it. The scent of stone. Smoke. Blood. Legacy.

And then—his scent.

Rowan.

He followed me inside, the doors closing behind him with a soft, echoing thud.

We were alone.

“I’ve dreamed of this,” he said softly. “But never like this. I’ve sat in that chair so many times… I always wanted someone beside me, but I lost hope over the years.”

He stepped beside me, and for a moment, we just stared at the thrones. His and mine. Mine and his.

“And now I’m here,” I said quietly.

“No courtiers. No rituals. No Council.” I turned to him. “Just us.”

His lips twitched. “As it should be.”

I walked toward the dais. Slowly. Reverently. My fingers brushed the arm of my throne—and I felt it: a thrum of power pulsing through my chest like a second heartbeat.

The moonstone still remembered me.

I turned, and Rowan was watching me like he always did—like I was the one thing in the world worth kneeling for.

“We take it together,” I whispered.

He moved toward me, and without a word, took my hand. His fingers were warm. Steady. Strong.

Together, we stepped onto the dais.

Together, we sat.

It wasn’t ceremony. It wasn’t show.

It was ours.

A slow silence settled between us, thick with magic, thick with history. I felt it curling around us like a vow. Like fate.

Like the Moon Goddess herself.

“You feel that?” I whispered.

He nodded once, his eyes locked on mine. “It’s real now.”

I turned to him, my chest rising. “And so are we.”

He didn’t answer with words.

He stood—fast—and pulled me to my feet, lips crashing to mine like the start of a war. His hands were on my waist and hips, my back arching, the thrones forgotten as he pushed me gently against the edge of the dais. His mouth devoured mine, his tongue claiming me. Fierce and fire.

“You said,” he growled against my mouth, “you’d only wear pants for training…”

I gasped when his hand slipped beneath the slit in my dress. “Should I say how much I love the easy access dresses give me, my Queen?”

His hands roamed over my legs, teasing the lace of my panties beneath.

I moaned. “You want to test the theory, my King?”

I slid the sleeves of my dress down, fingers undoing the clasps one by one, until the fabric fell in a soft rustle to the floor. Rowan watched every second of it like it was a prayer.

His lips curled, teeth grazing my jaw. “I want to fuck you on your throne.”

My breath hitched, heat flooding between my legs.

“I swore I’d never let anyone touch me there unless they were my equal.”

My voice was a whisper—but he heard it. Felt it.

“And now?” he murmured, brushing his nose along my cheek.

“Now I have one.”

I reached for his jacket, tugging it off his shoulders, my hands greedy and shaking. His shirt followed, buttons popping beneath my fingers. My palms slid over warm skin and muscle, ridged and scarred in places, sculpted by war and time.

“My first,” I breathed, dragging my nails down his chest. “Then I’ll ride you on yours.”

He groaned—guttural, as if the sound had torn straight from his soul—and lifted me with a smooth, dominant strength that made my spine tingle. He set me gently onto the moonstone throne, and the cold kissed my bare thighs, a jolt of magic rising under my skin.

He dropped to his knees before me like it was instinct.

His hands slid up my legs slowly, reverently, from ankles to knees, parting them. The slit of my dress fell away like silk, baring the heat between my thighs, the sheer lace of my panties already damp.

“Fuck, Lyra…” he exhaled, like he was witnessing a relic or a storm.

His fingers curled around my hips, anchoring me—and then he pressed a kiss just above my knee. Then another, and another, working higher. I squirmed, the anticipation thickening until I thought I’d melt into the throne.

“I should worship you here,” he whispered against my skin, lips moving closer, “so the magic remembers who it belongs to.”

When his mouth finally met the apex of my thighs, I gasped—sharp and needy. His tongue moved slowly at first, deliberate, savoring. Licking along the lace. Teasing me through it.

Then he peeled the fabric aside, and everything in me fractured.

His mouth was hot and hungry, tongue gliding between my folds, tasting me like I was something sacred. His hands held me open, firm and possessive, as he began to devour me with more purpose—licking, sucking, flicking over my clit until my hips lifted off the throne.

The world vanished. There was only the stone, his mouth, the sound of my own moans echoing in the Hall like music from another age.

“You taste like power,” he murmured against me, voice thick. “Like moonlight and war.”

His tongue circled my clit, slow and deliberate, then faster, until I was crying out, my body trembling, thighs clenched around his shoulders. He didn’t stop. His fingers slid inside me—deep and perfect—finding that place that made me lose all breath.

“Rowan,” I gasped, nails clawing at the throne’s arms, “don’t stop—”

He didn’t.

He sucked my clit in rhythm with his fingers, building me higher, higher, until I broke apart like starlight bursting inside my chest. I came on a moan that echoed through the Hall—raw and sacred—and I felt the throne respond. The pulse of magic under me rippled through my bones like lightning, like the Moon Goddess herself was bearing witness.

He rose slowly, lips glistening, eyes burning.

“I want to see you ride me now,” he said, voice husky. “Claim your seat.”

I grabbed his hand and pulled him to his throne. He shed the rest of his clothes in seconds—his body hard, beautiful, cock thick and ready. My thighs still trembling, I straddled him, my knees on either side, and reached between us to guide him in.

The stretch was exquisite.

We both groaned as I sank down on him, inch by inch, until he filled me completely. I paused there, panting, gripping his shoulders as he let his head fall back with a curse.

“You were made for this,” he growled. “Made for me.”

I began to move. Slow at first. Rolling my hips, grinding down, dragging pleasure between us like a silk thread pulling tighter.

His hands gripped my waist, then my breasts, then my hair—tugging just enough to arch me into him. My dress was half-fallen, bare skin meeting bare skin.

Our rhythm grew, rougher, hotter. His hips met mine with every thrust, the throne creaking beneath us like it remembered this union. Like it needed it.

“Mine,” he snarled.

“Yours,” I whispered, voice breaking. “Always.”

Our bodies crashed and moved and melted—heat building like wildfire, like prophecy, like fate calling us home.

And when he bit down on my mark—claiming me all over again—I came hard, eyes rolling back, clenching around him as he spilled into me with a groan so deep it shook the air.

We collapsed into each other, panting, slick with sweat and magic.

His forehead pressed to mine.

Our hands tangled.

Our thrones beneath us, warm with ancient power.

King and Queen.

Alpha and Alpha.

One heart.

One pack.

Chapter 28

POV: Lyra

The air tasted like old magic.

As we stepped onto the sacred hill, the wind shifted—cool and reverent, brushing through my hair like the caress of a long-lost ancestor. The Moon Temple had once crowned this land like a jewel. Now it stood in pieces, half reclaimed by ivy and roots, half lifted by scaffolding and fresh stone.

Workers moved silently through the structure, guided by Rowan’s pack mages and the newly appointed magical restoration team. Stone by stone, spell by spell, the temple was coming back to life.

Our life.

I paused at the entrance arch, where crumbling moon sigils had once glowed with divine light. My fingers traced the broken lines. Rowan stepped beside me, quiet, giving me space.

“This was the first place I ever felt her,” I whispered.

“The Goddess?”

I nodded. “My wolf. My power. Myself.”

He reached down and took my hand, threading our fingers together like roots growing deep.

“She’s coming back, Lyra. You’re bringing her back.”

I glanced at him. “Not alone.”

We walked forward, the bones of the temple unfolding around us. There was no roof, not yet, so the sky watched us—silver and pale blue, the moon faintly visible even in daylight. It felt right.

In the center, a shallow depression marked where the Veil of Magic had once pulsed with raw energy. Rowan had cleared the area. There were fresh glyphs etched into the surrounding stone—ancient symbols for spirit, balance, rebirth.

“We’re placing the Veil right here,” he said. “Not hidden anymore. Open. Honored.”

“It’ll be the center of our magical council.”

He nodded. “And the heart of the pack. A promise that we’ll never deny magic—or truth—again.”

I turned to him, my chest full of breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding for a century and a half.

“I dreamed of this once,” I said. “Before the war. Before the betrayal. I dreamed of standing here with someone who saw me.”

He smiled and stepped closer. “I see you.”

His hand rose to my jaw, his thumb brushing along my cheekbone with a reverence that made my knees soften.

“And I dreamed,” he murmured, “of a girl in red armor and bloodstained hands who looked at me like I was her enemy.”

I laughed, the sound catching in my throat. “I was ready to rip your throat out.”

“You still might.”

“I might kiss it first.”

His eyes darkened. “Do both.”

I rose on my toes and kissed him—slow and certain—right in the center of the old temple. Right where magic would soon return. His hands caught my waist and pulled me close, our bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces finally falling into place.

The kiss deepened, charged with something wild and sacred. Not just desire—though that burned hot between us—but legacy. Destiny. Home.

We pulled apart, breathless and grinning.

“Let’s finish this,” he said.

“What?”

“The world,” he replied, “isn’t going to rebuild itself.”

“Good thing we’re Alphas,” I said, brushing imaginary dust from his jacket. “We delegate.”

He chuckled and took my hand again, guiding me back toward the stone steps.

As we left the temple, I glanced back once.

The wind shifted again, and for a heartbeat, I swore I felt her—the Goddess, my wolf, the old magic—watching.

Proud.

The sun bled through the tall windows, casting golden light across the stone floors of our shared office—the room we had reclaimed, rebuilt, and filled with our vision. The scent of parchment, ink, and faint pine smoke clung to the air, grounding me in this new era. My era.

Our era.

I sat behind the darkwood desk, my fingers stained with notes and law drafts, deep in the language of power. Rowan had left hours ago for a High Council session, and I hadn’t looked up from my work since.

I didn’t need to feel the bond to know the moment he returned. His presence hit me like a warm pulse beneath my ribs—steady, grounding. I didn’t glance up as he entered; I just let myself breathe him in.

“You didn’t even miss me?” His voice was playful, low and rough like gravel smoothed by time.

“I’m too busy fixing a broken world,” I murmured, my eyes still on the parchment.

“Sure you are,” he said, crossing the room behind me. His hand slid over the back of my chair, down my shoulder. “Stand up.”

I glanced at him over my shoulder, raising a brow.

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

I smirked, but obeyed. He stepped around the desk, all tall and dangerous grace, suit still perfectly tailored despite the hours spent battling egos and politics.

When I faced him, he pulled a folded sheet of official parchment from his jacket pocket. Thick paper, red wax, Council seal.

“What is it?”

He held it out but didn’t let go when I tried to take it.

“Read the name first.”

I narrowed my eyes, tugging playfully. He smirked, but released it.

I unfolded the parchment slowly. My eyes scanned the top line—and froze.

LYRA VALEN LAW.

Not 6339. Not a code buried in forgotten legislation. Not a relic.

My name.

A real law. Enacted. Approved. Alive.

My breath caught.

“It passed,” Rowan said softly. “Unanimously. No more arguing about outdated bloodlines or outdated customs. It’s law now. Alpha rights by merit and strength. Male or female.”

I looked up at him, but my vision blurred with tears.

“You did this?” My voice cracked.

He shook his head. “You did it. I just made sure they couldn’t ignore you anymore.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or fall into his arms. So I did all three. I stepped into him, and his arms folded around me without hesitation, locking me against the only home that had ever felt like mine.

“I named it after you,” he whispered in my hair. “Because they needed to remember where it came from. And who it nearly cost.”

“I’m going to make this pack impossible to tear apart,” I whispered.

“You already have.”

We stood like that for a long beat—two Alphas, scarred by time and betrayal, and yet standing victorious in the quiet glow of a new age.

When I pulled back, I kissed him softly, reverently—no fire, no battle. Just us.

But he deepened it slowly, his hand sliding along my waist, the other curling behind my neck. He tasted like triumph and promise. Like the man I had hated. The mate I had denied. The king I had chosen.

“Rowan,” I murmured against his lips, “what happens now?”

He kissed me again, slower. “Now we rule. Together.”

“Not just rule,” I said, brushing my thumb along his jaw. “We change everything.”

He grinned, wicked and bright. “Oh, that’s the plan.”

I let him press me gently against the desk, his body molding to mine, his breath warm against my throat.

“Later,” I teased, gripping his belt with a smirk. “We still have work.”

He groaned and let his forehead drop to my shoulder. “You’ve become insufferably responsible.”

“You made me this way.”

“I’ll take full credit.” He stepped back with a last look. “But tonight, I’m making love to the woman who redefined the law of the land.”

I smirked. “Then you better come prepared.”

He winked, then turned and walked away—our Alpha, my mate, my equal.

I sat again, the new parchment beside me, glowing like a promise.

Lyra Valen law.

The name echoed in the room, in the pack’s future, in every girl who would rise without fear of being too much.

And beside it, always—Rowan Dareth, the Alpha who chose legacy over pride and love over power.

Together, we had rewritten the world.

And it was only the beginning.