I wake to the sound of something fundamentally fucked up.
Not nightmare-fucked. Reality-is-breaking-apart fucked.
I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless, soaked in sweat that tastes like metal and bad decisions. Black veins are crawling across my chest like lightning frozen under skin—wolfsbane working its way through my system, pulsing with enough concentrated death to drop a full Alpha in seconds.
And I drank it. On purpose.
“Oh my god,” she breathes behind me. “What the actual hell—”
I don’t look at her. Can’t. Every breath feels like swallowing glass, and my whole body’s vibrating between wanting to tear itself apart and holding together through sheer spite. The wolf in my chest is going absolutely batshit, clawing at my ribs like it’s trying to escape.
“Why did you do that?” Her voice cracks. “Why would you do that?”
I open my eyes. They’re burning silver-bright in the moonlight—Dire blood fighting poison, winning by millimeters.
“To remind myself I can,” I say, calm as discussing weather while blood pools on my tongue.
“That stuff kills people.”
“It kills wolves,” I correct her. “It doesn’t kill me.”
She stares like I’m some kind of mythical creature. Which, fair enough. “What are you?”
I stand up—controlled movement because showing weakness right now would be stupid—and my muscles twitch under skin gone too tight, too hot, too alive with whatever curse runs in my veins.
“I’m not just a wolf,” I tell her, stepping closer. “I’m the last Dire. The blood they bred out because it scared them.”
Her mouth goes dry. I can smell it. “So this… this is nothing to you?”
My gaze pins her in place. “It’s pain. I feel it. I just don’t run from it.”
“Holy shit.”
I’m close now. Close enough that she can feel the heat pouring off me like I’m running a fever that could melt steel. The poison’s lit my veins like dark fire, and every inch of skin feels branded.
“You’re insane,” Lucy whispers. “Completely fucking insane.”
“And you’re still here,” I point out, voice rougher than I meant. “Watching.”
She should back away. Doesn’t. Her eyes drag over me—jaw, blood on my lips, the storm raging in my chest that should’ve killed me ten minutes ago.
“You should be dead,” she murmurs.
“I’m not easy to kill.”
Step closer. The air between us goes electric, like touching a live wire.
“I don’t know whether to be afraid or—” She stops herself.
My eyes burn brighter. “Or what?”
Her throat works. “Or want to see what happens next.”
I reach up, just brush her cheek. Not grabbing. Not threatening. Just heat against skin.
“You’ll see,” I tell her.
She should pull away. Doesn’t.
My skin’s burning, charged like a storm barely contained, and something in me recognizes the way she leans into it—into me. My fingers drift down, tracing her jaw like I’m mapping territory that already belongs to me.
She swallows hard. “See what?”
“That I’m stronger than you think.”
She lets out a shaky laugh. “You just drank enough wolfsbane to drop a god, and you’re still standing. I think I’ve seen plenty.”
My eyes don’t leave hers. “Not yet.”
The space between us vanishes. One second normal air, the next I’m breathing her in. My mouth hovers near hers—not touching, just threatening to. Her pulse goes wild under my hand.
“You’re not afraid of me,” I say softly, fascinated by this impossible girl.
“I should be,” she whispers. “Everyone is.”
I slide my hand to the back of her neck, holding her there like she’s something fragile and dangerous all at once. “They’re right to be.”
Don’t know who moves first. Maybe both. But suddenly our mouths meet—no hesitation, no sweetness, just heat and hunger and every bit of restraint I’ve been holding snapping like glass.
I kiss like I fight—all power and control, but underneath there’s something else. Something claimed. Like she’s already mine and I’m just collecting what’s owed.
Her fingers fist in my hair, tugging hard, testing me. The sound that comes out of my throat is pure wolf—low, dark, possessive—and I back her into the wall like gravity’s optional. Pin her body with mine, all heat and muscle and fury barely restrained.
“Valen thinks he owns me,” she gasps between kisses.
I find her neck with my mouth. “He doesn’t.”
“You think you could take him?”
My tongue traces fire over her skin, then I bite—just hard enough to make her moan and prove a point.
“I don’t think,” I growl against her throat. “I know.”
She shivers. Not fear. Recognition. Her body reacts like it’s been waiting for someone this savage, this sure, to burn the world down for her.
“You’re insane,” she whispers again, even as she drags me closer.
“I’m inevitable,” I growl, and lift her like she weighs nothing, pressing her harder against the wall.
The wolfsbane’s still burning through my system, black veins pulsing under skin that should be dead by now. But the Dire blood in me is stronger than poison, stronger than curses, stronger than whatever trap Valen thought he was setting.
And she’s not afraid. She’s here, pressed against me, kissing me like the world’s ending and we’re the only two people left alive.