Sleep abandoned King Alaric Nightfang that night. The moon hung low and fat over the citadel, spilling silver light into his darkened chambers. He lay awake on the cold stone of the throne room's guest chamber—not in rest, but in torment. Dreams of her haunted him, not the clear, sweet kind of dream, but the kind that claws at you with sharpened nails, biting at memory and instinct alike.
Her scent had returned. Rain-soaked and wildflower-tinged, threaded with iron and defiance. It lingered in his mind, in the folds of his wolf, igniting a fire he had long convinced himself was dead. Seven years. Seven years and a lifetime of regrets, all condensed into a heartbeat that throbbed as he remembered the first night, the night he could barely own up to himself.
The wolf under his skin twisted and strained. Mate. She is mine. The growl reverberated deep in his chest. Alaric's fingers clenched the cold edge of the stone balcony, and he pressed his forehead against it. Control, he whispered, though he knew the word was meaningless. He had spent years mastering his body, his power, and even his emotions—yet nothing prepared him for this.
Meanwhile, far below in the streets of the city, Serena walked swiftly, the boy tugging at her hand. He was small but sharp, carrying a boldness that mirrored his mother's. She glanced down at him and felt a stab of something that was almost tenderness, almost fear, almost defiance all tangled into one. "Keep your eyes forward," she said, though her voice betrayed amusement. "No staring at the Alpha King, or you'll get us both killed."
The boy rolled his eyes but complied, his small hand gripping hers like a lifeline. He had already noticed things she hadn't: the way the guards looked at her with suspicion, the way the pack wolves whispered among themselves. He even had a name for the tension that draped over the city like a storm cloud.
"They smell it," he said casually. "That thing you can't hide. The bond. It's loud."
Serena's lips pressed together to suppress a laugh. Child with the nose of a wolf already. She had always wondered if it was her gift or a curse that her son inherited the subtle, relentless awareness of wolves. "Keep your mouth shut, or I'll tell you the tales of your father's mistakes," she said, teasingly, though her stomach tightened at the thought.
Her steps carried them to the city gates where a carriage awaited. The driver, a burly man with more muscles than sense, glanced down at her once, then coughed. "You really think the King sent a carriage for you?" he muttered, uncertain.
"Does it matter?" Serena asked lightly. She climbed inside with the boy following, making sure the doors closed snugly behind them.
The ride was silent at first. Rain streaked the windows, blurring the streets, blurring the past she had tried so desperately to forget. Her wolf shifted beneath her skin, restless, a reminder that no matter how far she ran, the pull of the Alpha's presence was already threading into her blood.
Alaric, across the city, paced in his chamber. The scent of her presence was everywhere, not physically, but spiritual, instinctual, impossible to ignore. His wolf clawed at the edges of his control, and he allowed himself the briefest, sharp taste of panic. Why did she come here? Why did she bring him?
The carriage jolted over a cobblestone road. Serena's eyes flicked to the rearview glass. He's here. Always here. Watching.
She shifted, gripping the boy's hand tighter. "Do not make a sound," she murmured. The boy tilted his head, smirk tugging at his small mouth. "Why? Because he's scary? Or because you secretly want to throw him into the fountain?"
"Both," Serena replied. Her lips twitched, unwilling to fully smile. Even humor carried its sharp edges. She could feel the pull now in earnest, as though the very air inside the carriage vibrated with his presence, unseen yet unmistakable. The bond hummed—a subtle vibration, soft as silk, dangerous as fire.
When they arrived at the citadel, the gates loomed like jagged teeth against the night sky. Serena's stomach coiled. This was not just a castle. This was a trap, a test, a prison dressed in stone and power. The guards looked at her as though she were a shadow of a mistake they had heard whispered about in council meetings. She ignored them. She had no fear. Not anymore.
Inside, the carriage doors opened, and the cool stone air of the castle hit her, crisp and commanding. The hall stretched before her, lit with flickering torchlight that cast elongated shadows on walls carved with the history of kings, warriors, and betrayed mates. Her son tugged her hand, whispering, "It's huge."
"Yes," she said quietly. "Too huge for comfort."
They walked down the hallway, and for the first time since the tavern, Serena felt eyes on her. Not just any eyes. Golden, feral, alive. The Alpha was here, somewhere beyond the torchlight, his presence folding into the stone itself. She felt her wolf twitch under her skin.
Alaric's voice called from the shadows, controlled, even, but threaded with something ancient. "Serena Vale."
Her name on his tongue was like a caress that stung. She froze for a fraction of a second. The boy, sensing her tension, squeezed her hand. She pressed a hand to her stomach, not just as a gesture of protection, but as a reminder: she carried the proof of their bond—the living embodiment of a night neither of them could erase.
"I hear the Alpha calls," she said lightly, eyes forward, voice steady. "Lead the way."
They stepped into the central hall, and the King emerged. No cloak this time, no distance. Just him. Tall, broad, eyes smoldering with a fire that mirrored her own. The bond throbbed between them, a silent rhythm that refused to be ignored.
Alaric's gaze locked on hers. Every instinct screamed, every suppressed memory itched at the corners of his mind. The wolf beneath his skin prowled, restless, fierce.
"You've returned," he said slowly, deliberately. "After all these years."
"And you still look like a statue that forgot how to feel," she replied, sharp and unyielding. Her humor was a blade. The slight quirk of her lips betrayed the tension, made it human, soft, alive.
His wolf growled, low and rumbling, insistent. Claim her.
Alaric's jaw flexed. He took a step forward, measured. "We have much to discuss."
"Then you'd better speak quickly," she shot back. "Because I'm not staying silent."
A tense pause hung in the air. Torchlight flickered over their faces, over the boy's small, observant features, over the impossibly long tension winding between them.
The Alpha King and the woman he had lost, banished, and unknowingly fathered a child with—stood in the same hall again. And the bond, like a living thing, hummed, pulled, demanded.
Neither could ignore it.
Not anymore.