The fire had burned low by the time they returned. Leon sat shirtless at the edge of their bed, the soft glow of embers casting shadows along the ridges of his back. Blood streaked his skin—some dried, some still fresh from the battle. None of it his enemies’.
Celine knelt behind him with a damp cloth, her hands trembling slightly as she wiped the wounds. She worked slowly, carefully, pressing her lips together each time he flinched—though he tried not to.
“You should’ve shifted back sooner,” she murmured.
“You were in danger.”
She wrung out the cloth in the basin beside them, steam rising. “That doesn’t mean you have to bleed for me.”
Leon looked over his shoulder, brow furrowed. “I’ll bleed for you every time.”
She paused, cloth in hand.
Her throat tightened. “I didn’t think anyone would ever say something like that to me.”
“You shouldn’t have to hear it,” he said. “You should just know.”
She touched one of the deeper cuts, her fingers lingering there for a moment. “They came for me because of what I am.”
“No,” he said, turning to face her fully now, one hand rising to her jaw. “They came because they’re afraid. That’s different.”
“It’s not,” she whispered. “My wolf—it’s a symbol now. A threat. A reason for people to hate me. And now that I’m Luna, it’s not just me who’s at risk.”
Leon’s expression darkened. “You think you’re a liability?”
“I think I’ve put Crimson Fang in danger.”
“You’ve given Crimson Fang a future.”
She didn’t respond right away.
He leaned forward, brushing his lips across her temple, then down to her cheek. “Listen to me,” he said softly. “I don’t care what the King thinks. I don’t care about prophecy, or the politics, or even fate.”
His hand slid to her chest, resting over her heart. “I care about you. And I swear—on my blood, on my title, on every wolf in my command—I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”
Celine closed her eyes.
“Even if it means going up against the Lycan King,” he finished. “Even if it means tearing down the entire royal court with my teeth.”
Her breath hitched. “You’d go to war… for me?”
“I’d burn the world,” he said, voice steady. “Just to keep it from touching you.”