Chapter 377
He set me down on the edge of the massive bed and turned to lock the door. The click of the deadbolt was final.
The room was dim, the heavy curtains drawn against the afternoon sun. Dallas crossed to the dresser, his movements predatory and precise. He picked up the black velvet box — the one Gigi had presented to me — and opened it, revealing the Moon’s Tear. The platinum necklace held a massive, teardrop-shaped moonstone that seemed to glow with its own inner light.
“Stand up,” he ordered softly.
I obeyed, my body moving of its own accord. I stood before him, breath catching, as he stepped into my space. He didn’t kiss me. Instead, he circled behind me, sweeping my hair off my neck. His calloused fingers grazed my skin, sending sparks skittering down my spine.
“Braydon Hyde thinks he can touch you,” Dallas murmured against the shell of my ear, his voice dark and thick with possessiveness. “He thinks he has a claim.”
He draped the cold metal around my neck. I shivered as the heavy stone settled in the hollow of my throat. He clasped it shut, his hands lingering on my nape — right over the spot where a mate mark should be.
“Look at yourself,” he commanded, turning me toward the full-length mirror.
I looked. The necklace was exquisite, a piece of royalty worth more than my entire life’s earnings. It glowed against my skin, marking me as something precious. Something rare.
“Beautiful,” Dallas whispered, his eyes meeting mine in the reflection, gold still swirling in his irises. “A collar for my Luna.”
The word landed like a splash of ice water.
Collar.
“Say it,” he growled, his hands tightening on my shoulders. “Tell me who you belong to.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. Every instinct in me already knew the answer. “I am yours, Dallas.”
“And the Hydes?”
“I am not theirs,” I breathed, the words tasting like ash. “I never was.”
“Good.”
He unclasped the necklace with a swift, decisive motion and tossed the priceless jewelry onto the dresser with a careless clatter.
“The pack can see the jewels,” he said, spinning me around to face him, his hand gripping my chin to hold my gaze. “But this skin? This neck?” He ran his thumb over my pulse point, pressing hard enough to bruise. “This is for me. No metal. No cloth. Just my mark.”
He kissed me then — a searing, devouring kiss that promised oblivion. I melted into him, arms wrapping around his neck, drowning in the scent of cedar and rain.
But as his lips moved down my throat, a cold whisper slithered through the heat of the moment. Braydon’s voice, echoing from the garden, sharp and venomous.
That bond isn’t love — it’s a leash.
I closed my eyes and clutched Dallas’s shirt, pulling him closer, trying to silence the doubt. But as I lay back on the bed and surrendered to the Alpha King, I couldn’t stop the question that crept in from the edges of the dark.
Was he stripping me bare to love me?