Just after sunset: a knock, a maid—“The king requests you, Lady Coralina.”
I follow, Luca’s marks throbbing under silk and powder that can’t quite hide them.
Ryder stands at the window, firelight playing over his shoulders. “Close the door,” he says.
The latch clicks; silence tightens. He turns, eyes skimming me—stopping at my throat. Not anger—something like wary acceptance, tangled with confusion—and it hurts.
“Come here,” he says—no command, just soft request. I go. He lifts my collar with care, eyes catching on Luca’s bruises blooming at my throat. A fingertip traces heat over one. “Who marked you?”
“Luca. After practice. He was upset about… us.”
His jaw tenses, touch stays gentle. “Did he hurt you?”
“No. Intense, possessive—not violent. He’s struggling with sharing me with someone who isn’t his mate. They both are.” The words rush out. “Nathan kissed me in the garden. I should’ve told you. I want all of you, even if it shouldn’t be possible.”
His hand stills against my throat. "All of us," he repeats softly. "Is that what you want, little moon? All three of us?"
“I don’t know what I want,” I whisper, tears burning. “Nathan and Luca feel written into my soul—my wolf knows them as hers. When they touch me, it’s instinct.”
Ryder’s thumb wipes a tear. “And me? What do you feel with me?”
“Something different. Something that’s been growing since that first night. You make me feel safe… seen. I think I’m falling in love with you, and I don’t know why the Moon Goddess would give me two mates and still make me want you. It feels cruel.”
Pain and hope flicker in his eyes. “The twins are my closest friends. I’ve never seen them like this—restless, unraveling. Nathan prowls like a caged wolf; Luca’s lost his charm’s edge. We all feel this bond, and none of us knows how to live with it.”
He cradles my face. “Mate bond or not, I don’t want to let you go. I’ve got maybe four years left, and I want them with you—if you’ll have me.”
"Four years?" My voice cracks, the revelation unraveling something in me. "Ryder, what are you talking about? What does the curse actually do?"
He releases my face, moving to pour wine from a crystal decanter. His hands are steady, but I see the tension in his shoulders.
"You know the basic story. My ancestor kidnapped a she-wolf named Selena, forced her into his harem, and when she escaped, he hunted her down and executed her. The Moon Goddess cursed our bloodline—every heir to the throne dies on their thirtieth birthday unless they find and mate with their fated one."
"But you can search for your mate. Why the harem? Why can't you travel, seek her out?"
"Because there's more to the curse." He hands me the wine, our fingers brushing. "We cannot recognize our fated mate until a descendant of Selena is returned to her homeland. The curse is specific—it requires acknowledgment of the original sin. We stole Selena from her pack, so her blood must be returned before the curse breaks."
"That's why you can't marry," I breathe, understanding dawning. "The harem exists because you need heirs but can't take an official mate."
"Exactly. Every king since the curse began has died at thirty, leaving behind children raised by regents until they're old enough to rule, only to face the same fate. I've spent eight years searching for any trace of Selena's bloodline, but the records were deliberately destroyed. We know she came from a northern pack, possibly connected to Moon Goddess worship, but nothing concrete."
He sits on the edge of his bed, suddenly looking exhausted.
"In four years, I'll be thirty. Unless by some miracle we find Selena's descendant and I recognize my mate, I'll die. The crown will pass to Elijah's children, if he has any by then."
I set down my wine and move to him, taking his hands in mine. "We'll find a way. There has to be something—"
"I've made peace with it," he interrupts gently. "But these last days with you have made that peace harder to maintain. You make me want things I'd given up on. A future beyond thirty. Love that isn't shadowed by death. When I hold you, I forget about the curse entirely."
"Then forget about it now," I say, climbing onto his lap, my dress pooling around us. "Let me help you forget."
His hands settle on my waist, holding me steady. "Coralina, you don't have to—"
"I want to. I want you, curse and mates and complications be damned. Can't we just have tonight without thinking about tomorrow?"
He studies my face for a long moment, then pulls me down for a kiss that's achingly tender. "Every night with you feels stolen from fate," he murmurs against my lips. "But I'll take whatever time we have."
The scent of him floods my senses, a heady mix of sweat and musk that makes my thighs tremble. His lips crash against mine, hungry and urgent, and I melt into him, my body responding with a wild, untamed abandon.
Our clothes fall away like forgotten lies, discarded in a heap on the floor, leaving us bare and exposed to the fire that crackles between us.
His hands roam over my skin like a cartographer mapping uncharted territory, each touch deliberate, each caress a promise. I feel the roughness of his calloused palms against my hips, the heat of his fingertips as they trace the curve of my spine.
My breath hitches when his mouth finds the hollow of my throat, his tongue darting out to taste the pulse that thunders there.
I reciprocate, my nails scraping lightly over the ridges of his abdomen, feeling the muscles tighten beneath my touch.
My lips follow the trail of scars that mar his chest, each one a story, each one a testament to the man he is. I kiss them all, worshipping the battles he’s fought, the pain he’s endured.
When he finally pushes inside me, it’s like coming home.
The stretch of him, the fullness, makes my eyes roll back and a moan escape my lips. He groans, a deep, guttural sound that vibrates through me, and I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper.
The rhythm we find is primal, raw, and unhurried. Each thrust is deliberate, each movement calculated to draw out every ounce of pleasure. My fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing him nearer.
His hands grip my hips, holding me steady as he drives into me with a force that leaves me breathless.
Our connection is electric, a current that arcs between us, binding us together in a way that’s more than physical. It’s spiritual, a merging of souls that leaves no room for anything else.
And as we move together, lost in the heat and the need and the desire, I know that this is where I’m meant to be.
His breath hot against my ear, his voice rough with emotion as he whispers words of adoration. My body responds, tightening around him, pulling him deeper, closer.
The pleasure builds, a coiling spring ready to snap, and I cling to him, desperate for release, desperate for him.
And when it comes, it’s a tidal wave, overwhelming and all-consuming.
My body shudders, every nerve alight, every cell on fire. He follows, his own release wrenching a guttural cry from his throat as he spills inside me, claiming me in the most intimate of ways.