The mark was still fresh, the skin around it tingling with an almost electric awareness. Every time Elara's pulse beat against it, she remembered the sound Adrian made when his teeth sank in—a sound of hunger and ownership.
She didn't have long to dwell on it.
The heavy oak doors of the private hall slammed open, shaking the chandeliers overhead.
Three men strode in—no, not men. Wolves in human skin. Their shoulders were too broad, their movements too fluid, too predatory. And the one in the middle… his eyes locked on Elara and didn't let go.
Adrian's growl was low, vibrating through the air before a single word was spoken.
"Dante." The name was spit out like a curse.
"Adrian." The stranger smiled without warmth. "You've been busy. Found yourself a human pet."
Elara stiffened, but Adrian's hand was already at the small of her back, steadying her. His thumb brushed the edge of her mark, almost deliberately reminding them both it was there.
"She's not a pet," Adrian said, voice like a blade. "She's mine."
The smile twisted into something cruel. "So it's true. You broke the oldest law. Took a human mate. No wonder the council's restless." His eyes slid over Elara with a hunger that made her skin crawl. "I think I'll relieve you of the burden."
Adrian moved before the last syllable fell from Dante's lips. One second he was beside her, the next he had Dante by the throat, slamming him against the marble wall so hard the plaster cracked.
"Try," Adrian snarled, "and I'll gut you where you stand."
Dante only laughed, a wet, rasping sound through crushed windpipe. "You think the mark scares me? I could take her in front of you and—"
The rest was lost in a blur of motion—Adrian's fist, the crack of bone, the scent of fresh blood flooding the room.
The other two wolves lunged forward, but Adrian was a storm. He threw Dante aside like he weighed nothing, spinning to catch one attacker by the throat and hurl him into a table that exploded under the impact. The second didn't fare better—Adrian's claws tore through his shirt, leaving four deep slashes across his chest.
Elara stood frozen, heart pounding, watching her protector become pure predator. His movements were lethal, efficient, every blow designed to maim or kill.
Then Dante was on his feet again, lips pulled back in a snarl. "She'll never survive in our world, Adrian. She's prey."
That word—prey—snapped something in her. She didn't even think. She stepped forward, placing herself between them.
"She's mine," Adrian said, stepping so close behind her she could feel his breath on her ear. His arm came around her, pressing her back into the hard wall of his chest, the heat of his body shielding her. "And anyone who touches her answers to me."
Dante's gaze flicked to the mark on her neck. For the first time, his smirk faltered. "You're playing a dangerous game."
Adrian's voice was quiet, almost gentle. "No. I am the danger."
Dante backed away, blood on his lip, eyes promising revenge. "This isn't over."
The moment the door slammed shut behind them, Adrian turned her to face him. His hands were still shaking from the fight. His eyes burned gold.
"You don't step between me and a threat," he growled.
"And you don't decide who I face," she shot back, adrenaline making her bold.
His gaze dropped to her mouth, then to her throat where the mark throbbed visibly. "You keep tempting me, and I'll finish what I started earlier."
Her breath caught. "Maybe I want you to."
The sound he made wasn't human.