Lycos Dragomir

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A low growl rumbles in my chest, vibrating past my teeth before I can swallow it down. I like her defiance less and less, yet somehow it burns through me like fire. “You know what? Never mind,” I snap, releasing her arm abruptly. “I don’t need your pathetic human morality. I don’t even need your marriage to break this curse. I can find a Lycan female who’d spread her legs for me without hesitation.”

I watch her reaction carefully, every flicker of expression on that stubborn face. She doesn’t know the truth. She is the only one who can break my curse. She has the heart of a pure soul, untouched by darkness, and only she carries the power strong enough to shatter the chains the witch wrapped around me. If the creatures from the other realms find her before I bind her to me, they’ll tear her apart, slaughter her like the others, and everything I’ve endured to keep her hidden will be for nothing.

“Then go ahead,” she says with a roll of her eyes, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m sure they’re lining up.”

My jaw clenches so tightly it hurts. My eyes narrow, burning with a heat I can’t hide. “Don’t tempt me,” I growl, the sound low and dangerous. I stand abruptly as I rise to my full height, my shadow swallowing hers. “I will.”

I turn on my heel, heading for the door, each step heavy with the anger I’m barely keeping in check. My curse is eating me alive, my life fading with each passing night, and yet she sits there glaring at me like she isn’t already a beacon for everything dark and hungry in this world.

At the door, I pause. My hand lingers on the iron handle as I glance back at her. She’s sitting on the bed, arms crossed, her red hair spilling over her shoulders, looking both furious and heartbreakingly small in the vastness of my chamber. Something twists in my chest, an emotion I thought died with my power.

If only she knew. If only she understood what I’m protecting her from.

I leave her behind, slamming the door harder than I mean to. Her scent still clings to me, sharp and maddening, and I hate how it rattles my control. My footsteps echo down the hallway, heavy with anger I can’t shake.

By the time I reach my study, Merik is already there. Always waiting, always watching. He’s loyal, but too observant for his own good.

“You look like hell,” he says flatly. “I take it the girl’s still fighting you.”

I drop into the chair behind my desk, running a hand through my hair. “She doesn’t fight. She spits venom. She’d rather see me rot than agree to this marriage.” My jaw tightens. “She has no idea what refusing me means, for me, for the pack, for her.”

Merik shrugs, though I can see the tension in his shoulders. “The pack feels your weakness, Lycos. Rivals smell it too, they’re circling, if they learn your power is gone...”

“They’ll attack,” I snap, my fingers itching to tear into something. “I know that.”

For a moment, the only sound is the fire crackling in the hearth. My curse gnaws at me, burning through my veins, stealing what strength remains. And all the while she sits upstairs, glaring at me like I’m the monster who ruined her life.

Merik breaks the silence. “If she won’t bend, what then? You can’t keep her locked away forever.”

My teeth grind. The thought of her leaving, of anyone else touching her, makes my blood run hot. “She’s not leaving. Not until she’s mine.” My voice drops into a growl. “She’s the only one who can break this curse. Without her, I fall. And when I fall…” My gaze flicks to the fire. “The pack burns with me.”

Merik leans forward, lowering his voice. “Then maybe it’s time you tell her the truth. About her. About what hunts her, she has a right to know.”

I slam my fist against the desk, the wood groaning under the impact. “Not yet, she’s fragile. If she learns too much too soon, she’ll break, and I need her whole.”

I lean back, my chest heaving. The truth is, I’m not only protecting the pack. I’m protecting her from the curse, from the others, from myself.

But how long before the darkness swallows me completely?

I slip back into the room without a sound, my earlier anger dulled but not gone. She’s by the window now, staring out at the high walls that keep her in. The candlelight makes her hair glow like fire, even when she’s turned away from me. She looks small against the vast dark glass, but there’s steel in the way she holds herself.

I close the door quietly, my steps measured and controlled. My temper wants to roar, but control is how I win. Always control. I stop just behind her, close enough for her to feel my heat but not close enough to touch.

Her stomach growls softly. The sound pulls a smirk to my lips despite the storm in my chest. “Hungry?” I ask, my voice low, mocking. I lean forward, bracing my hands on either side of the window frame, trapping her without touching her. My arms cage her in easily. “Too bad. You’re not getting any food until you agree to marry me.”

“You’re evil,” she whispers, so soft it’s almost a breath.

“You have no idea,” I whisper back, my mouth close to her ear, my breath spilling across her neck. “I’ve done things that would make your hair stand on end. And I’m not above starving you to get what I want.” My voice dips lower and rougher.

“You’ll starve me?” she asks, looking up at me. Her blue eyes are wide, but there’s defiance flickering there.

“In a heartbeat,” I reply coldly, my gaze locking with hers. My eyes burn with hunger, but it has nothing to do with food. “You’ll either agree to be my wife and break this curse, or you’ll wither away in this room until you beg me yourself.” The words are cruel because they have to be. I want her to understand how serious this is, how thin the line is between keeping her safe and letting her go.

“That’s so cruel…” she gasps, her voice a feather of sound, trembling like a candle about to go out. Her lashes flutter, and then she sways, one delicate hand pressed to her forehead in a dramatic little motion, pretending to faint.

I catch her easily, my hands closing around her waist. She’s warm and light in my arms, too soft for the life she’s been dragged into. I hold her against my chest, her head resting on my shoulder like she belongs there. I scoff under my breath. “Fucking hell,” I mutter, tightening my grip just enough to make sure she can’t slip away. “You think playing helpless will make me feel sympathy? Think again.”

She smells like defiance and fear and something sweeter, something that claws at the edges of my control. I know she’s faking, but I still hold her, still let her stay pressed against me. Because even if she doesn’t know it yet, she’s mine.

“Whatever,” she mutters, rolling her eyes and straightening up as if she isn’t trembling. That defiance… it cuts through me like a blade.

Before I can stop myself, my hand shoots out and grabs her chin, forcing her face up to mine. My thumb presses against her jaw hard enough to leave a mark. “I warned you about that attitude,” I growl, my voice low, dark, and dangerous. My other hand slides around her waist, fingers digging in possessively. “Last chance before I really do starve you.”

“I’ll think about it,” she whispers softly in my arms, her voice barely audible.

Her words cool the fire in my chest. Slowly, deliberately, I release her chin, though my hand lingers at her waist for one heartbeat longer than it should. Her eyes are wide, uncertain, but still shining with defiance. “Smart choice,” I mutter, my voice losing some of its edge. I drop my hands to my sides, forcing space between us.

“I have one question.”

She nods, her wide eyes fixed on me. There’s defiance there, but also something softer, something she’s trying hard to hide.

I lower my voice, letting it slip into something quieter, almost intimate. “If you agree to marry me,” I say slowly, “will you sleep in my bed? Share my meals? Bear my name?” My golden eyes search hers, desperate to read what she won’t say aloud. One answer could seal our fate together, or shatter everything I’ve built.

For a heartbeat, the world seems to still. The air between us hums, heavy and alive, and I swear I can feel her pulse racing beneath her skin. She looks like a doe caught in a trap, terrified, furious, but unable to tear her gaze from mine.

Then, like a blade sliding through silk, she cuts through the tension. “I’ll think about it, first... feed me,” she groans dramatically, rolling her eyes as if she hadn’t just been seconds away from a life-changing promise.

A surprised sound escapes me, half a scoff, half something dangerously close to a laugh. The corner of my mouth twitches upward before I can stop it. “Fine, you difficult woman,” I grumble, turning away to mask the flicker of amusement. I reach out, curling my fingers around her elbow, not rough this time, but firm, and lead her out of the room. “Let’s feed the bride-to-be who hasn’t even said yes yet.”

She laughs softly, the sound breaking through the tension like a spark in the cold space between us. It shouldn’t affect me, but somehow it does. For a heartbeat, as I lead her down the wide marble stairs into the grand kitchen, I almost forget she’s my captive. Her small hand rests against the curve of the banister, her red hair catching the faint glow of the chandeliers above, and for a fleeting second, she looks less like a prisoner and more like she belongs here, like a queen who hasn’t yet realized her crown.