She woke up warm, but it didn't feel right.
Too quiet. Too soft. Too clean.
Her eyes snapped open, and she sat up fast—too fast. Pain lanced through her side. Her limbs were stiff but bandaged. Her skin was clean. The blood was gone. The filth. The stink of iron and fear and piss.
She looked down at herself.
New clothes. Loose, but clean. Her hair was damp. Her neck ached.
She touched the bandage there.
The bite.
And then everything came rushing back.
The throne room. His eyes. His teeth. The bond slamming into her chest like a truck. Him tearing those guards apart like they were made of paper.
Her mouth was dry. Her head pounded.
The door creaked open, and a woman stepped inside with a tray. Older. Calm. No scent of fear on her, which meant she was used to chaos.
Healer.
"Eat," the woman said simply, setting the tray down on the table beside the bed.
Vireya didn't move. Just stared at her.
"Where am I."
"The King's private medical wing."
She clenched her jaw.
"How long."
"Almost two days."
Her stomach growled. She ignored it.
"Who cleaned me."
The woman glanced at her, then back at the tray.
"Eat. You need the strength."
Vireya slammed her palm down on the table, making the metal cup rattle.
"Who the fuck cleaned me?"
Silence.
The woman hesitated. Then, carefully:
"He did."
Her stomach dropped.
"No."
"He wouldn't allow anyone else to touch you."
She gritted her teeth. "Don't bullshit me. I was unconscious."
"He bathed you," the woman said, calm and unfazed. "He carried you here. Sat by your bed while I stitched you. Growled at anyone who stepped too close. You weren't even awake, and he was already guarding you like a dragon over gold."
Vireya's fists curled under the furs.
Not out of embarrassment.
Out of rage.
She didn't ask for that.
Didn't want to be protected. Didn't want another man hovering over her like she was some broken thing waiting to be claimed.
"What is this?" she muttered. "Some kind of flex? 'Look how gentle I can be with the girl I already bit?'"
"He didn't touch you like that," the woman said flatly.
"Doesn't matter." Vireya swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her muscles ached. Her vision swam. She didn't care. "I'm not a possession. He doesn't get to decide what happens to my body just because the moon thinks we match."
The healer raised a brow. "You're alive. Because of him."
"Barely."
She grabbed the edge of the table to steady herself and downed half the water in one breath. It hit her empty stomach like fire.
She wasn't grateful.
She was confused.
Worse, she was angry.
And most dangerous of all, she was awake now.
The hall outside her room was empty.
Which was stupid.
She'd just ripped a man's throat out and passed out in a pool of blood, and no one had posted a single guard outside the door?
Either they weren't worried about her...
Or they were scared of what might happen if they tried.
She moved slow at first, testing her legs. Her ribs ached, her neck throbbed, and her stomach was still twisted with hunger. But her mind was sharp. Awake. Pissed.
She followed the scent.
Not his.
Hers.
It was faint, but it lingered—like her presence had left a mark on the damn place.
The deeper she went, the more the air shifted. Warmer. Charged.
Her instincts itched under her skin. Something ancient whispered closer with every step.
And then she turned a corner and found him.
Standing alone in the training hall, sweat-slick and shirtless, knuckles wrapped, slamming his fists into a reinforced leather target like it owed him something.
The space was massive. Dark stone walls, weapon racks lining both sides, firelight dancing across floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked nothing but jagged cliffs and sky.
He didn't see her at first.
Which gave her time to stare.
His back was covered in ink. Black tattoos, sharp lines and swirling script she couldn't read. His arms flexed with every strike. Muscles bunched beneath skin like coiled steel.
He looked like a monster built for war.
He was a monster built for war.
And yet... he'd washed her.
That was the part she couldn't wrap her head around.
Her rage boiled back to the surface.
She stepped forward without thinking.
"You bathed me?"
His fist slammed into the target one last time before he froze.
Slowly, he turned.
His eyes found hers, light storm-grey, glowing faintly, like he hadn't fully pulled the wolf back into its cage yet.
"I did."
She laughed. Sharp. Cold.
"Do you always manhandle unconscious women, or am I just special?"
His jaw flexed. "You were injured. Filthy. Bleeding. Would you have preferred to wake up rotting in it?"
"I would've preferred to wake up with a choice."
Silence.
He took a step toward her.
She held her ground.
"You're angry," he said, voice low.
"No shit."
Another step.
"You don't want to be touched."
"I don't want to be owned."
His head tilted slightly. Studying her like she was a puzzle he couldn't force to fit.
"You're not owned."
"No?" she snapped. "You bit me in front of a room full of wolves. Tore men apart over me. Bathed me like I was a broken doll. Sounds a lot like ownership to me."
"I claimed what's mine."
She stepped right up to him, chest to chest, eyes burning.
"I am not yours."
He looked down at her.
Calm.
Cold.
Like he could tear through kingdoms and still have time to make her breakfast.
"Then reject the bond."
Her breath caught.
His voice was low, lethal, quiet.
"I'll give you the blade myself," he said. "Cut it. Reject me. Right here. Right now."
She didn't move. Didn't speak.
Because something in her wouldn't let her.
The silence stretched.
His mouth twitched. Not a smile. Not quite.
"Didn't think so."
She wanted to hit him.
She wanted to kiss him.
She wanted to run.
Instead, she turned and walked out.
And he let her.
Didn't call her back.
Didn't stop her.
Just stood there, breathing slow, watching her like she was a wildfire he'd decided to let burn the whole fucking kingdom down.
But she caught it.
That smirk.
The tiniest twitch at the corner of his mouth.
She didn't care how big he was.
Didn't care how powerful.
She threw him a middle finger over her shoulder as she stormed off, the unspoken fuck you sharp and full of spite.
And then the hallway tilted.
Her legs went soft. "MOTHER FUCKEEEER" she mumbled...feeling the fire in her chest fizzle into something cold. She got five more steps before everything went black again.