And then he kissed her.
No warning. No words. Just truth, pressed to her lips.
At first, it was a breath, barely a touch. His lips brushed hers with the reverence of a prayer, as though afraid he'd shatter her if he pressed too hard. But when she leaned in, when her fingers tangled tentatively in the front of his shirt, something ancient stirred between them. The bond flared like a spark to dry kindling.
Thornak's kiss had left her breathless, gentle, reverent, but charged with something deeper, something he was clearly fighting to control. She kissed him back, without thinking, her heart leaping.
But then, he abruptly pulled away, crossing the room to stand at the desk.
His back was to her, broad shoulders tense, hands braced on the wood as if it alone kept him grounded.
She watched him, puzzled. He stood there, unmoving, clearly wrestling with something, some war raging inside him she couldn't see.
"Thornak?" she said softly.
He didn't answer.
She stepped closer.
Then his head turned slightly, and his eyes found her.
And the look he gave her wasn't cold, it was full of heat and conflict and something dangerously close to longing.
Her night robe clung to her skin and he could make out her body outline. His eyes darkened.
"Oh, Goddess…" he said quietly, turning away again, fists curling on the desk. "You're making this harder than you know."
His voice was strained. Not with anger but with desire.
Thornak, will you please say something?" Lara's voice was laced with concern.
Jax growled in Thornak's head, restless and wild. He could barely keep his beast at bay. Every inch of her, every scent, every glance was unraveling him. And he was hanging on by threads.
He'd conquered armies with less strain than this.
"You don't know what you do to me," he said, his voice breaking. "It's not just that I want you, Lara. I want to mark you. Make you mine in every way a Lycan can. But I might scare you so I won't… not until you are ready and you want me to."
Lara was confused, yes he loved her but can a Lycan just mark a werewolf. There are powerful female lycans why choose her.
"Why do you even want me so much? Can a Lycan mark a wolfless werewolf" she asked, her voice trembling. "I'm not even a Lycan! It doesn't make sense."
"Why do you think it's so?" Thornak growled, his grip around her waist, eyes dark but blazing slightly golden color as they locked onto hers.
She stood quietly, drawn to him by something she couldn't explain. Her skin tingled where he touched her, her pulse a wild drum in her chest.
She should step back. She should run.
But she didn't.
She couldn't.
A single word pulsed through her suddenly, in a voice that was vaguely familiar.
mate
"Mate…" she murmured, the word tasting strange and right on her tongue.
And in the next instant, Thornak's lips crashed down on hers, fierce and hungry, claiming her like breath to flame.
"Mine," he growled against her mouth, lifting her into his arms like she belonged there.
His breath was warm against her temple, steady but taut with the effort it took to hold himself back. His hands, rough from war and command, were almost trembling now, one resting on her thigh, the other rising up her back, spanning her spine like a shield.
"Lara," he murmured, voice low, gravelled, heavy with restraint. "Say the word, and I'll stop. No matter what it costs me."
She looked up at him, wide-eyed and flushed, heart thudding like a caged bird in her chest. "I don't want you to stop," she whispered.
Thornak nearly growled, his control hanging by a thread.
His arousal strained painfully against the confines of his pants, a deep ache that had haunted him for nights. With one fluid, powerful movement, he lifted her to the bed, caging her beneath him with a reverence that warred with the wildness inside.
Lara gasped, her breath hitching as her body instinctively responded, her thighs parting to receive him.
"Lara…" he rasped, gripping her wrist gently, his forehead pressing to hers. "Only if you're sure."
She nodded, cheeks flushed, breath shallow, eyes full of trust. "I'm sure."
With a strained groan, he released the knot, pulling his pants down just enough to free himself. His length was thick, hard, already glistening with need, but even in the heat of it, he held himself back.
Her dress was already rucked up around her waist, leaving her bare beneath him, soft, slick, trembling. She was shy, but she didn't turn away. She was ready… for him.
"You're already so wet for me," Thornak murmured, voice husky and awed, his large fingers slipping between her thighs, feeling the heat, the softness, the welcome. "Even like this… even scared."
She whimpered, overwhelmed, clinging to his shoulders as her body arched beneath his touch. He pressed a kiss to her collarbone, then her cheek, then her lips, slow, worshipful.
"I'll go slow," he promised, voice raw with restraint.
But gods help him, he wanted to. Not to hurt her, but to claim her, to mark her, to make her his in every sacred, primal way. Yet he held the beast at bay, because Lara deserved more than a Lycan's hunger.
She deserved his soul.
He guided himself to her entrance, moving with a patience he didn't know he possessed. His fingers brushed between her thighs one last time, preparing her, coaxing her body open before he pressed the thick head of his length against her heat.
Lara gasped, the pressure making her breath catch. Thornak watched her face like a man starved, every twitch, every flicker of discomfort, every sound. He pushed in slowly, giving her time, holding himself in check even as her tight warmth nearly undid him.
She whimpered, back arching, her nails digging into his shoulders. It burned, but only for a moment. He paused, murmuring soft nothings, his thumb brushing over her hip, waiting, always waiting, for her to be ready.
Then she moved beneath him, lifting her hips in silent invitation, and he slid in deeper, groaning low in his chest.
The barrier gave way, and she cried out, more from the rush of sensation than pain. Thornak stilled immediately, cradling her, lips at her ear, his voice a hoarse whisper: "Breathe for me. That's it, love. I've got you."
Her thighs trembled around him, her body adjusting to the fullness of him, the newness. And then, slowly… blissfully… her gasp turned into a moan, her fear melted into heat.
He began to move, slow, reverent strokes that kindled something deep in her core. Each thrust was deliberate, unhurried, dragging pleasure through her like a wave rolling across sand, again and again. Lara clung to him, her shyness dissolving in the tide of sensation that overwhelmed everything else. Her breath hitched. Her thighs trembled. Her body opened for him completely.
"Thornak…" she whispered, her voice breaking.
Her body arched into his, her hips meeting his every motion now with quiet desperation. Each movement drove her higher, the pleasure coiling tighter inside her, winding like a string pulled taut. Her nails raked gently across his back, small, unsure scratches that made him groan low in his chest.
He kissed her again, slower this time, almost reverent, and reached between them to stroke her with his fingers where they were joined, circling her with a feather-light touch, coaxing her up, up, up.
"Come for me, Lara," he breathed, voice ragged.
She gasped, the tension cresting, breaking. Her cry was soft but raw, caught in her throat as her climax crashed through her like lightning. Her body clenched around him, pulsing, shuddering, her legs tight around his waist, her mouth open in silent wonder.
Thornak cursed under his breath, losing control for only a moment, just long enough to thrust once, twice more, and then he followed her over the edge with a low, guttural growl, burying himself deep inside as release took him.
For a few long seconds, there was nothing. No world. No time. Just them, tangled, breathless, one.
Moonlight spilled across the bed in silver ribbons, catching in the strands of Lara's hair spread out over the pillows like gold thread. Her skin was flushed, glowing, her breath slowly settling into something soft and even. Thornak lay beside her, propped on one elbow, just watching and memorizing the quiet peace on her face.
He had never seen anything so beautiful.
Not in war. Not in conquest. Not in the sacred rituals of the court. Nothing compared to the look on her face when she had whispered his name, breaking apart beneath him, letting him in, not just to her body, but to her heart.
That she was his woman
And the goddess help him, he was hers.
And he would never let her go.
....
The high council chamber buzzed with restless tension. Nobles lined the long stone hall, dressed in the finery of war and diplomacy, yet not one dared speak above a whisper. Queen Maravelle stood tall, her pale gown flowing like mist around her feet, the sealed parchment gripped between elegant fingers.
At the head of the room, Thornak sat upon the black-stone throne.
Expressionless.
Unmoving.
His massive frame radiated stillness, but not peace. More like the silent pressure before a thunderclap. No one could read his face and that unsettled them more than a snarl ever could.
Maravelle lifted the letter.
"This," she said coolly, "was found hidden beneath a loose floorboard in Lady Lara's chamber. I will now read it aloud for the record."
The room drew breath as one.
She began.
"To our benefactor,
The king grows fond of me, as you foretold. His trust deepens by the day.
If all goes as planned, I will send word once the defenses are weakened.
The Lycan crown will fall, and vengeance shall be ours."
The words struck like arrows.
....
Meanwhile...
Lara stood beneath the silver-leaved tree in thornak's private garden, the sky above her streaked with lavender and fire. The air was cool, yet she felt the weight of unseen heat, like being watched by something too patient to blink.
She touched the sleeve of Thornak's shirt, still wearing it from that quiet morning they'd shared. The scent of him clung to the fabric, earth, storm, and something darker that she couldn't name.
Iris approached from the path, her smile gentle but not as bright as usual.
"You feel it too?" Lara asked without looking up.
Iris hesitated, then nodded. "There's... tension. People whispering in corners. Queen Maravelle hasn't summoned you yet. They are still debating..."
Lara swallowed hard, her throat dry. "About me."
Iris looked away. "They say you're a trailer and not fit to stand beside the King."
Lara turned then, her eyes holding a quiet fire. "They're not wrong about the last part. I'm not one of them. I wasn't raised in gold and silk."
"But you're his," Iris said softly. "That should be enough."
Lara looked toward the towering palace beyond the gardens. Somewhere in there, Thornak was likely fighting a dozen battles she couldn't see.
"But it never is," she murmured. "Not when you're an outsider."
Iris stepped closer, placing a warm hand on her arm. "They can't erase you, Lara. Not while he breathes."
But Lara's gaze lingered on the high towers of the palace.