The word hung in the air like a blade.

Mate.

Lyra’s chest tightened as the bond snapped, pulling at something deep in her that she didn’t want to name, she hated it, she hated him.

“No,” she said shaking her head so hard her hair slipped loose around her face. “No. You’re wrong.”

His fingers stayed on her chin and she could feel the press of his thumb just under her jaw, light, he didn’t move. Then he laughed, it was a quiet, low, dangerous sound that curled under her skin like smoke.

“Say whatever you need to,” he murmured. His breath was warm against her cheek, and she hated that it made her shiver. “But you feel it. Just like I do.”

Then he let go.

Lyra yanked her head back and scooted away until her back hit the headboard and her fingers gathered closely the furs at her sides like they might actually protect her from him.

“I don’t want another mate,” she said. Her voice shook. Damn it. “I already had one. And he…” Her throat burned. She couldn’t finish. “He broke me.”

The Alpha King crouched in front of her, one elbow resting on his knee, his black hair falling loose over his forehead. Heat radiated from him even though he wasn’t touching her anymore. He didn’t speak at first. Just watched her with those sharp, unblinking eyes.

Finally he said, quiet and steady:

“I’m not him.”

The way he said it wasn’t defensive. It wasn’t a question. It was a simple fact, dropped between them like a stone.

Lyra let out a bitter laugh. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t want you.”

The bond pulsed at her words, a physical ache in her chest. And it must have hit him too, because his jaw tightened.

“You don’t have a choice,” he said.

Her lip curled. “Watch me.”

For a brief moment, his mouth quirked like he might smile. But it wasn’t a kind smile. It was the kind that made her feel already caught.

He stood, towering over her, and reached for her arm. His fingers closed around her forearm, not rough this time, but firm enough that she couldn’t pull away. He hauled her up before she could protest.

She stumbled, her palms hitting his chest. And gods he was solid, the bond flared where their skin met and she jerked away like he burned her.

His head dropped low but close enough that his breath tickled her ear.

“The goddess doesn’t make mistakes,” he said. His voice stayed low, even, but edged with steel. “You were sent here. To me. You’re not running from it.”

Lyra tried, she really did as she jerked away, hand swinging up toward his face.

He caught her wrist midair.

She froze.

His fingers tightened just enough to make a point, then loosened again. He didn’t hit her back. He just held her there for a long moment, then slowly let her hand fall.

Her heart hammered so loudly she wondered if he could hear it.

He didn’t move. But his voice slid into her mind like smoke, dark and sure.

Run all you like. You’ll still be mine.

Lyra swallowed, glared toward where she thought his eyes were, even though she couldn’t see them. Her breathing shook, and she hated that he could probably hear that too.

After a moment, he finally stepped back and said, “Leave us.”

It took her a second to realize he wasn’t talking to her.

The guards’ footsteps withdrew. The door shut. And then it was just him.

She heard the quiet scuff of his boots as he crouched in front of her again.

He didn’t touch her.

“Who?” he asked.

Lyra blinked. “…What?”

“Who did this to you?”

The question stunned her. She clenched her hands into fists.

“You don’t even know him,” she muttered. “It doesn’t matter.”

There was a long pause. Then, in an almost gentle tone, he said, “Someday, if I find him… he’ll regret it.”

A bitter laugh scraped her throat. “Oh, perfect. So you’re the big hero now?”

“That’s not why,” he said simply.

She froze.

The way he said it, like he didn’t care what she thought of him. Like he wasn’t trying to impress her. Like he meant every word.

“I don’t care about being your hero,” he continued. “I care about you. About what’s mine.”

Her breath hitched.

“I’m not yours,” she said tightly.

He leaned closer.

“You keep telling yourself that.”

One of his hands lifted and his thumb brushed her cheek. Barely there was just a ghost of a touch, yet sparks shot down her spine.

She jerked her head away, heat crawling up her neck.

He stayed silent a few seconds before finally rising.

“I’ll give you tonight,” he said, his voice cool but not unkind. “To accept it. To… get used to it.”

Lyra heard him step toward the door. Then he paused.

“And if you can’t buy it tomorrow…” He hesitated before adding softly, “I’ll wait. As long as it takes. I’ll do whatever I have to. For you to see me.”

Her stomach twisted.

He stood at the door a moment longer, then said, barely above a whisper:

“I’ll get your sight back. I promise.”

The door closed behind him, leaving Lyra alone in the quiet, chest heaving.

She sank onto the furs, burying her face in her hands.

She hated him.

She hated the way his voice lingered in her mind. Hated the way her body reacted every time he came close.

But most of all…

She hated the part of her that wanted to believe him.

The part that wanted to believe he would truly do anything.

Even give her back her sight.

Her hand curled over her chest, right where the bond burned hot and relentless.

Even in the silence, she could still hear his promise echoing:

I’ll wait. I’ll do whatever it takes.