Adrian didn't let her speak.
His mouth was on hers again, his hands framing her face as if she might vanish if he didn't hold her there.
When he finally pulled back, his voice was low and edged with something primal.
"They saw what you did back there. They felt it. That means they'll come for you, Elara. Not tomorrow. Not next week. Tonight."
Her pulse jumped. "Come for me? Why?"
His eyes glinted, wolf-bright. "Because if you're the Lunar Queen, you're worth more than the crown itself. To them, you're a weapon… or a prize to breed."
The words hit like ice water, but his touch was fire, his thumb brushing her lower lip.
"And I won't let them lay a hand on you."
She swallowed hard. "You're scaring me, Adrian."
"Good. Fear will keep you alive. But fear alone won't protect you."
Before she could ask what he meant, he was pulling her toward the massive four-poster bed. Not pushing her down—yet—but standing close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him.
"You need to be marked," he said.
Her breath hitched. "Marked? Like… branded?"
His smile was slow and dangerous. "Not like that. In my world, marking means you carry my scent, my claim. It tells every wolf in a hundred miles that you belong to me."
Her knees wobbled. "And how exactly does that work?"
His answer was wordless—he leaned in, brushing his lips along the curve of her neck. The sensation made her grip the edge of the bed for balance.
"It's done through the skin," he murmured. "A bite. Not deep enough to kill. Just deep enough to bind."
Her body went hot all over, but it wasn't fear making her tremble now.
"And if I say no?" she asked, though her voice was barely more than a whisper.
"Then I guard you with teeth and claws until my last breath," he said. "But without the mark, they'll never stop testing me. Testing you."
She looked into his eyes and saw the truth there—feral devotion wrapped in danger.
"Do it," she whispered.
The sound that left him was somewhere between a growl and a groan. His hands slid into her hair as his mouth trailed down her throat. She felt his teeth graze her skin, sending a shockwave of sensation all the way to her toes.
The bite came sharp and hot—pain, then heat, then something deeper, primal, and intoxicating. She gasped, clinging to his shoulders.
When he pulled back, his lips were stained red, his breathing ragged. The spot on her neck throbbed, pulsing in sync with her heartbeat.
"Now," he said, voice rough, "no one touches you. No one even thinks about it without smelling me all over you."
The way he looked at her then made her realize—this wasn't just protection. This was possession. And part of her… liked it.