The drive out of the city was silent, but not calm.
Adrian's hand rested possessively on Elara's thigh the entire time, his thumb moving in slow, deliberate strokes that kept her pulse spiking for reasons that had nothing to do with fear.
The black SUV rolled into a gated compound surrounded by high stone walls and armed guards. Their eyes followed the car like predators scenting prey.
Elara leaned closer to Adrian. "Why do I feel like I'm walking into a lion's cage?"
"You're not," he said, gaze locked ahead. "You're walking into a den of wolves. Mine."
The air was thick with tension as they entered the grand hall—stone floors, heavy chandeliers, and the faint scent of smoke and pine. Every head turned toward them.
Men and women—beautiful, fierce, and dangerous—watched her like she was an intruder. Or worse… a prize.
A tall, broad-shouldered man with a scar running down his cheek stepped forward. "You brought a human here?" he said, the word dripping with disdain.
Adrian's grip on her thigh tightened. "She's mine. And if anyone has a problem with that, they can try and take her from me."
A ripple of murmurs spread through the room. The man smirked but stepped back. No one dared challenge Adrian's claim—not yet.
Adrian guided her through the crowd, his touch more like a chain than a comfort, until they reached the head table. He pulled out a chair for her, his eyes daring anyone to object.
She sat, but the weight of every stare pressed against her skin.
Leaning down, his lips brushed her ear. "They can smell your fear. Don't give them the satisfaction."
Her breath hitched. "And if they smell… something else?"
His answering smile was pure danger. "Then they'll know exactly why you're mine."
Dinner was served, though Elara barely touched hers. Her heart pounded harder with each subtle brush of his hand under the table, every grazing touch sending heat through her.
But beneath the simmering tension, she felt something else—an odd hum in her blood, a faint pulse that seemed to respond to the wolves around her.
At one point, a young female wolf approached, eyes flicking between Adrian and Elara with open hostility. "She won't survive here," the woman said softly enough for only them to hear. "She's fragile. She's—"
Elara's hand shot out before she could think, gripping the woman's wrist. The contact sent a sharp jolt through her body—light, heat, and power, like lightning in her veins.
The wolf gasped and stumbled back, eyes wide. "What are you?"
The entire hall went still.
Adrian's gaze sharpened as he looked at Elara, a flicker of recognition—maybe even fear—crossing his features.
"Dinner's over," he growled, hauling her to her feet. "Now."
He didn't let go until they were behind the locked doors of his private suite, his chest rising and falling like he'd just run a mile.
"What just happened?" she asked.
He stepped closer, caging her against the wall. "You don't know it yet, Elara… but you're not just mine. You belong to all of us. You're the Lunar Queen."
Her lips parted, a thousand questions forming—but they vanished when his mouth claimed hers, the kiss rough, hungry, and utterly possessive.