Chapter 15: The Weight of the Crown
The walk to the Alpha's longhouse was silent, but it wasn't a peaceful silence. The air around us hummed with the leftover energy of my rage. My hand was still locked with Wolfie's, my thumb tracing the back of her knuckles as if to reassure myself she was still there.
We were summoned. Silas, the Alpha of the Silvermoon Pack, did not like his training sessions ending in a brawl, even if the person fighting was his son-in-law.
When we entered the great hall, Silas was standing by the hearth, his massive frame silhouetted against the flames. He looked at my shredded sleeves and the dark, lingering shadow in my eyes.
"You threw the future heir of the neighboring pack into a freezing pit, Drayan," Silas said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in the floorboards. "In front of the entire Academy. Do you have any idea how much paperwork that creates for the Council?"
I stepped forward, shielding Wolfie slightly behind my shoulder. "I don't care about the Council's paperwork, Silas. He touched her. He intentionally ignored the boundary of our marriage to provoke me. If I hadn't thrown him in the water, I would have thrown him through the wall."
Silas turned, his amber eyes—so like Wolfie's—studying me. For a long moment, the tension was thick enough to choke on. Then, to my surprise, the old wolf let out a short, barking laugh.
"Good," Silas grunted. "A wolf who doesn't protect his mate is no wolf at all. And a vampire who doesn't claim what is his is just a corpse. You've got fire in your blood, boy. More than your father ever let on."
He stepped closer, clapping a heavy hand on my shoulder. "But listen to me. Marcus is small-minded, but he has friends. Don't let your jealousy blind you to the real threats. Now, get out of here. Take your wife home. She's been looking at you like you've conquered the world for the last hour."
The Private Reward
We didn't wait. We left the longhouse and headed straight for our cottage as the sun began to dip behind the jagged mountain peaks. The moment the door clicked shut behind us, the world of politics and packs vanished.
The adrenaline from the fight was still buzzing under my skin. I turned to Wolfie, my eyes darkening again. I started to unbutton my ruined uniform shirt, the fabric strained across my shoulders. As the shirt fell away, the firelight caught the defined muscles of my chest and arms—not the thin frame of a scholar, but the hard, powerful physique of a man who spent his nights guarding the forest.
My muscles were taut, etched with the tension of the day. Every move I made felt heavy with intent.
Wolfie stood by the bed, her breath hitching as she watched me. She walked toward me, her hands trembling slightly as she reached out to touch the center of my chest. Her warmth felt like a brand against my cool skin.
"You were so scary in there," she whispered, her fingers tracing the hard lines of my torso, feeling the strength of my musculature beneath her touch. "I've never seen you lose control like that."
"I told you," I said, my voice dropping to a low, possessive growl. I wrapped my arms around her, my large hands splayed across the small of her back, pulling her flush against my bare chest. "I don't share. Not even for a training exercise."
I picked her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around my waist, her claws—sharp and eager—digging into the muscles of my shoulders. I felt the sting, the blood starting to rise, and it only made me want her more.
"Is this my reward?" I murmured, my lips finding the sensitive spot just below her ear. "For defending your honor?"
"This," she gasped, her head falling back as I carried her toward the furs, "is because I realized today that I don't want a prince. I want the monster who claimed me in front of everyone."
The night that followed was a slow, sensory blur of heat and shadow. I showed her with my body what I couldn't always say with words. My powerful muscles flexed as I held her, my strength a silent promise that she would never have to fear another man's touch.
I was a vampire, a creature of the night, but in her arms, I felt more alive than the sun. Every touch was a vow. Every kiss was a seal on the contract we had written in our own blood.
"You're mine, Wolfie," I whispered into the hollow of her throat as the moon reached its peak. "In the light, in the dark, and in every moment in between."
"Always," she replied, her voice a soft, broken promise. "Always, Drayan ."