Elara woke slowly, her body aching in the most delicious ways. Every muscle felt used, stretched, trembling from the aftermath of what had happened—what they’d become.

Mate.

The word echoed in her head as she blinked up at the ceiling, bathed in the silver light of early dawn. Her skin was marked with him—his scent, his touch, his possession. The bond pulsed quietly beneath her skin, humming like a low drumbeat, a tether she couldn't ignore.

She turned her head slightly.

Caelin lay beside her, half-asleep, an arm draped possessively across her waist. His face was softer in rest, but still sharp, dangerous. Her Alpha. Her mate.

The one man she was never supposed to have.

Not when the whole realm knew his mating to Luna Seraphina had been about politics, not passion. A calculated alliance for strength, territory, peace.

And yet he’d claimed Elara—his Beta’s daughter, the girl who had grown up in his packhouse, the woman he should’ve seen as untouchable.

But there was nothing untouchable about how he’d taken her.

Her core clenched just remembering it.

Carefully, Elara slid out from under his arm. Her legs wobbled as she stood, her thighs still slick, her body still sore from the force of their bonding. She pressed a hand to her chest, heart racing, then padded silently to the adjoining bathroom.

She turned on the tap, washing between her legs as the cool water stung tender skin. Her fingers trembled. Not from pain.

From awe.

From disbelief.

From… joy.

Her reflection stared back at her—wild hair, swollen lips, flushed skin. She looked wrecked. Loved. Mated.

"Fated," she whispered to her reflection, like saying it aloud would make it real.

It didn’t make sense. She wasn’t the powerful Luna from a prestigious line. She wasn’t chosen for a treaty. She wasn’t anyone… special.

Except to him.

And he hadn’t just marked her with his body. He’d claimed her soul.

The moment the bond snapped into place—hot, burning, ancient—everything inside her had shifted. Her wolf had awakened, clawing toward his presence like gravity, like instinct. He wasn’t just her Alpha anymore.

He was her mate.

A warm blush spread across her cheeks again at the memory of how he’d moved inside her—slow at first, reverent, then deeper, harder, until the pleasure blurred into something savage. Something holy.

She bit her lip.

Elara was still washing when she felt it.

A shift in the air. The subtle change in pressure. The slow, deadly thud of approaching footsteps.

She didn’t turn.

Didn’t need to.

She saw his reflection in the mirror behind her.

Caelin stood at the doorway, entirely bare, shadowed by morning light. His golden eyes were darker now, glinting with a hunger that hadn’t abated in the slightest. His hair was tousled, jaw tense, muscles tight like he was barely holding himself back.

And gods—he was hard again.

Utterly, shamelessly erect.

“Caelin—” she started, but her voice faltered.

Her eyes dipped, then snapped back up to his face, her cheeks flooding with heat.

His smirk was slow. Dangerous. Male satisfaction carved into every inch of him.

“You think I could sleep with you that close?” he asked, voice a deep growl, rough from sleep and desire. “With your scent still thick on me? With our bond humming like that?”

She swallowed hard, heart pounding.

“I thought you’d… rest.”

“I did,” he said, stepping forward, the sound of his bare feet on the tile like a countdown. “And then I woke up hard and aching all over again. Want to know why?”

Elara backed up until the counter pressed into her spine.

He reached her.

His hand came up to cup her jaw, tilting her face toward his. His other hand slid down her waist, over her hip, to the curve of her ass. Possessive. Certain. Like he already knew this body was his.

“It’s because the bond isn’t done yet,” he whispered against her lips, his breath hot. “Not really. The first time… it opens the link. But wolves like us?”

He slid his fingers between her legs, found her already damp again.

“We need to seal it. Again. And again. Until there's no part of you that doesn’t know who you belong to.”

Her knees buckled.

“Caelin—”

He kissed her.

Harder this time. Fiercer. A claiming kiss that didn’t ask for permission. Her hands found his shoulders, then tangled in his hair. She gasped into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound like a man dying of thirst.

When he pulled back, she was breathless, dizzy.

He looked her over, his eyes hooded. “Do you regret it?”

She shook her head.

“Are you scared?”

A pause.

“Yes,” she whispered. “But not of you. Of what this means. Of everyone who’s going to find out. Of what it’ll cost.”

His expression softened, just barely. “Let them come. Let them try. You’re mine now, Elara. And I don’t share.”

His voice sent a jolt through her belly. Her breath stuttered.

And then he was lowering to his knees in front of her, pressing kisses to her hip, her stomach, the inside of her thighs.

“Wait—what are you—”

He looked up, lips brushing the sensitive skin just above her center.

“You thought I was done?”

Elara’s mouth parted.

“Again?” she whispered, voice strangled, eyes wide.

Caelin grinned—feral, triumphant.

“Again,” he echoed.

And then he pulled her closer, his mouth covering her in one smooth, devastating motion.