The throne room had long emptied, but the Lycan King—Maeron—remained. He sat in silence, one leg draped over the arm of his chair, eyes fixed on the fire while the wine in his glass went untouched.
His mind, however, was very much occupied.
He had met many she-wolves. Tasted most of them. Fated, bonded, mated—it made little difference. Titles could be broken. Bonds could be bent. Even devotion had a limit when pleasure and power offered something more tempting.
But Celine...
Celine was proving difficult to categorize. And that only made him want her more.
He hadn’t planned to keep her longer than protocol demanded. But when she stood before him again, in that simple pale gown, her posture so poised despite the undercurrent of wariness in her eyes—he’d made the decision without even realizing it.
He delayed the dismissal.
He asked questions he didn’t need answers to.
He watched how her throat moved when she swallowed. How the soft curl of her hair caught the firelight. How her voice dropped an octave when she didn’t trust the question.
And all the while, he wondered—
What would it take to ruin her loyalty?
What would she sound like under him instead of Leon?
Would she still speak with that unshakable calm—or would she beg, the way others had?
The idea struck him harder than he expected, curling low in his gut.
He’d had queens. Wives. Mistresses. He’d claimed the hearts of daughters and the lust of rivals’ mates just to see if he could.
But Celine?
She wasn’t a prize.
She was a test.
Could he break the bond between her and Leon? Not with force—Maeron didn’t want obedience. He wanted surrender. He wanted to see her lose that control for him.
And once she did… he’d never let her go. Not as Luna. Not as a guest. But as his. She would open that prophecy wide—and he would be the one to walk through it first.
***
Back in the guest wing, Celine paced. Something in the King’s gaze today had changed. It had been sharper. Hungrier.
He hadn’t touched her. He hadn’t said anything explicit. But every word had pressed too close to her skin.
She told herself she was imagining it—until she saw Leon waiting for her, tense and still as stone.
“He’s watching you like prey,” Leon said before she even opened her mouth.
“I know,” she whispered.