There's a difference between claiming something because you can, and claiming it because you have to.
Elysia Draven is the latter.
The moment I caught her scent in the forest — wild jasmine laced with iron — I knew. She's the trigger to everything they warned me about. The Bloodbound girl. The girl the Vampire King thinks he owns.
Over my dead body.
Lucian Vale watches her like she's a pawn on his board. But he doesn't get it. He never will. She's not a game piece. She's the game itself. And the moment his cold fingers brushed her skin, the wolf in me snapped.
Now, standing here with her between us, the urge to rip his throat out is a constant hum beneath my skin.
"She's not yours to touch, Vale." My voice is low, dangerous. The wolf rides just under the surface, itching to break free.
Lucian's smirk is infuriating. "And yet, I just did."
Elysia flinches, but she doesn't cower. No. She stands there, chin high, fire in her eyes, as if daring the world to break her. Fuck, she's beautiful. Not in a delicate, porcelain way, but in the way wild storms are beautiful — unpredictable, untamable.
But storms need anchors. She doesn't know it yet, but I'm hers.
"You want a war, Wolf?" Lucian steps closer, his gaze flickering between me and Elysia. "Because you'll lose."
"I've lost everything already." My fists clench. "What's left is mine to protect."
He laughs, dark and amused. "You don't even understand what she is."
Maybe I don't know the full truth. But I know enough. The Bloodbound is more than legend. She's the tipping point. Vampires want her blood. Wolves want her power. But no one asks what she wants.
"Elysia," I say, keeping my tone softer, for her ears only, "come here."
She hesitates.
I see it—the conflict, the rage, the fear. She's been cornered her whole life, told what she is without understanding why. But now, she has a choice.
"Elysia," Lucian's voice is velvet poison. "You belong with me. I'll show you your destiny."
"I'll show you your freedom," I counter, stepping closer. "But you have to trust me."
For a moment, the world holds its breath.
Then, slowly, she moves. Past Lucian. Toward me.
The instant she reaches me, my hand wraps around her waist, pulling her flush against my body. It's not gentle. It's not soft. It's a claim. The Wolf's Mark.
Mine.
Lucian's eyes darken. "You just made a mistake, Fenrir."
"No," I growl, burying my face in Elysia's neck, inhaling the scent that makes me forget every damn rule. "You did. You forgot she's not a puppet on strings."
Elysia shivers, but she doesn't pull away. Her pulse thunders beneath my lips, and I want nothing more than to sink my teeth into that delicate skin—not to hurt, but to bind. To brand her with a promise no Vampire can ever break.
"I don't belong to anyone," she whispers, but her fingers clutch my shirt like she doesn't believe it anymore.
"Good," I murmur against her skin. "Then let them try to take you. Let them all fucking try."
Lucian's form blurs, gone in a breath, but his warning lingers in the air.
"This isn't over."
It never is.
When the air stills, Elysia pulls back, searching my eyes. There's no fear in her gaze—only frustration.
"What now, Wolf?" she asks.
I grin, feral and dangerous. "Now, you learn what it means to be hunted. But this time, you're not running alone."
Because she may not know it yet, but this fight? This war?
It's ours.
---
End of Chapter two