Chapter 7

Gavriel was already moving before anyone could stop him, Dexmon and King Tiberon close behind.

Aegon: The Gamma is already ahead of us.

Dexmon: I noticed.

Serena walked swiftly behind Elara, who still had her arm. Her breathing was uneven, and the gold glow still hadn’t faded.

They had barely cleared the side entrance of the castle when Serena swayed. Her knees gave out completely.

Dexmon was there in an instant, catching her before she hit the stone. He scooped her up immediately, primal instincts overriding rational thought.

Aegon: Finally.

Dexmon: What the hell is wrong with you?

Aegon: Carry mate. This is correct.

Gavriel watched Dexmon scoop her up like he had rehearsed it. Twice. In front of a mirror. The scoreboard in his mind updated. Dex: three rescues. Gav: zero. Unacceptable.

“Follow me,” Alaric said quietly.

He reached for a framed portrait along the corridor wall and swung it aside, revealing a narrow passage hidden behind it. Hidden from most, but not all.

Dexmon stepped through without slowing. Serena’s head rested in the crook of his neck.

When her forehead brushed his skin, his body jolted. He adjusted his hold at once, smooth and practiced, as if nothing had happened.

A bead of sweat traced his temple. The sensation refused to fade, drowning out everything else.

Another frame shifted aside, and they emerged back into the recovery chamber Serena had been staying in.

Aegon: Don’t you dare put her down.

“She’s burning up,” Dexmon said, jaw tight as he lowered her carefully onto the bed.

Serena’s face was drawn, her brow creased with pain, lashes damp against her cheeks.

Aegon: Pick her back up and fix it.

“She’ll be alright,” Elara said calmly, stepping closer. “She just overheated during our tour p>

Every head turned towards her.

Elara did not flinch. She had lied to Alphas before. Admittedly, never two in the same room.

Aegon: The woman is lying.

Dexmon: Brilliant observation.

The door opened a moment later.

Hyran Thornfell entered, his attention landing on Serena before the door had closed behind him.

“That explains it p>

Elara stiffened, eyes widening.

Alaric clocked it immediately. “Hyran is our Master Mage p>

Hyran brushed past Elara, without sparing her a glance, stopping at Serena’s side.

Gold light flared in his palms momentarily, but he froze before making contact, brows knitting together.

He mindlinked Alaric without thinking to shield it.

A fatal mistake. Unshielded mindlinks could be heard by the Alpha, Beta, and Gamma.

Hyran: She is overpowered. Healing magic will hurt her, not help. Did anyone see her blood?

Alaric: No. But if they remain here and I place an I.V., they will.

A third presence slid into the link, uninvited and unmistakably amused.

Gavriel: What’s special about her blood?

Hyran and Alaric both went still.

Careless.

Too late.

Gavriel: I want you both to know, I did not break in. You left the door wide open.

Hyran: Her blood isn’t normal. It shouldn’t exist.

Silence followed.

Gavriel’s next question was not mindlinked.

“What is she p>

Alaric exhaled through his nose in a way that communicated an entire paragraph of disappointment.

Elara felt the shift and assumed the worst.

“She has a wolf,” she answered quickly, stepping closer to the bed. “She just overheated. That’s all. I can take care of her p>

She turned towards King Tiberon and Dexmon.

“We appreciate your hospitality. Once she wakes, we will leave. We won’t trouble you further p>

Aegon: No.

Dexmon: No. There was absolutely no chance of that happening.

Gavriel glanced at Dexmon’s face and had to look away before he laughed.

King Tiberon, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke.

“Her secret is safe here,” he said quietly. “We do not press power that is not ours to name p>

He paused, then looked directly at Elara.

“Does King Viremont have any understanding of her abilities p>

Elara’s eyes flicked to Alaric in disbelief.

Alaric did not meet her gaze.

Tiberon watched the exchange and drew his own conclusion.

“Viremont is the only region that chains women in silver. That narrowed the field considerably p>

Elara swallowed.

“No,” she said at last. “He is not aware. Her blood turns red after a few seconds. Her power has only surfaced once before. No one realized it was her p>

The room went still.

“Was she his mistress?” Gavriel asked, his expression darkening at the thought.

His words landed like a brick through a stained glass window. Elara looked at him as if she were calculating exactly how hard she could hit him and still call it an accident.

Gavriel raised both hands. “I had to ask. Someone was going to p>

“No she wasn’t,” Elara answered flatly. “We received word that King Viremont had inquired about her. So she tried to escape again. This time, I went with her p>

“Again?” Dexmon snapped.

“Yes,” Elara said. “She failed twice before. Forty lashes in public for the first attempt. Silver cuffs for the second p>

Her voice stayed steady, but her jaw tightened. “The third attempt ends in death. She’s prepared for that p>

She paused, just long enough to make it clear she was choosing her words with care.

“I can’t say more p>

Gavriel looked at Serena, unconscious on the bed, and the grin he usually wore like armor was nowhere to be found.

King Tiberon stepped forward. He did not raise his voice, but the room shifted around him all the same.

“She is safe here,” he said, tone hard as forged steel. “No harm will come to her by our hand p>

His gaze moved to Serena, deliberate and assessing.

“If you choose to remain,” he continued, “both of you will fall under our protection. We will not return you to Viremont p>

Dexmon stepped forward at once, hand coming to his chest.

“On my life p>

Dexmon told himself he was only going to check on her.

Just a glance. Just to make sure she was still breathing evenly, that the faint glow beneath her skin had finally settled.

But the moment he saw her lying there, something in his chest gave way.

He sat on the edge of the bed. Then, without realizing he had moved, his fingers brushed a loose strand of hair back from her face.

The instant their skin touched, a quiet spark rippled through him.

Aegon:

Dexmon: Obviously I felt that.

She looked uncomfortable, a faint crease of pain etched between her brows.

His hand found the zipper at the back of her training suit. He hesitated, fingers resting there as heat radiated through the fabric into his palm.

He glanced back at her face.

She was burning up.

This was a bad idea.

That thought barely slowed him.

Pulse loud in his ears, he moved carefully, peeling the heavy fabric away until she was down to her undergarments and bandages. All the while, he told himself it was for her fever, for her healing, for anything except the truth.

His breath hitched despite himself.

She was beautiful.

He pulled a thick blanket up around her, tucking it securely in place.

The urge to hold her pressed hard against his ribs. An instinctive pull he had no business indulging.

His wolf spoke in his mind, interrupting his train of thought.

Aegon: If you lie with her, she will heal faster.

“Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath.

He had already stripped her down to her undergarments. At this point, pretending restraint felt dishonest.

Aegon: He arrives. At last. The man I have been waiting for all evening.

He slid beneath the blanket and drew her back against his chest. She fit there with unsettling perfection. Like she had been shaped for that space.

For him.

His wolf offered no commentary for exactly thirty seconds.

Aegon: Told you.

Dexmon breathed in her scent again. Pine, moonfire, and something wild beneath it that made his chest ache. It was overwhelming.

He still could not fathom how beautiful she was.

Any attraction he tried to summon for Princess Viremont felt laughable by comparison.

Even with a fated mate, he told himself he’d proceed with her anyway. Out of duty. Out of honor. He had given his word months ago.

But it had never felt right.

Not then.

And certainly not now.

He pressed a quiet kiss to the back of her head.

There was no avoiding it anymore. He would have to end things with the princess. Keeping that promise would be nothing but self-inflicted torture.

Serena needed to be claimed. Interest in her was already growing, and he would not leave her unprotected.

But he wanted her to choose him. Without destiny pressing a thumb to the scale. Without a fated matebond or prophecy whispering in her ear.

A choice made with clear eyes.

Sleep claimed him before he realized it.

He woke before dawn.

Serena had not stirred.

It took effort to pull himself away, every step toward the door an act of restraint. As he left the room, he made a quiet decision.

As soon as she was healed, she would be moved into his quarters.

He did not allow himself to think about whether she would agree.

For her safety.

That was the story he was sticking to.