The silence stretches between us, heavy with revelation. I take a step backward, needing distance to process what I'm seeing. Ryder—the Lycan King—watches me with those silver-grey eyes that seemed so kind at the festival.
The same eyes that now belong to the most powerful Alpha in the realm.
"You lied to me…" I whisper, betrayal making my voice sharp.
"I never lied to you. I simply didn't correct your assumption."
"That's the same thing! You let me believe you were just a guest. I told you everything—about Elijah, about Gwendolyn, about being sent to your harem. I cried in your arms about my fate, and you knew. You knew you were the king I'd be sent to serve!"
"Yes, I knew."
"Did you find it amusing? The discarded bride weeping about the terrible Lycan King while he held her?"
"No." His voice roughens. "Coralina, look at me. Really look at me."
I do, and there's no mockery there. Just something raw and vulnerable.
"When you spoke about the king—about me—you called him ruthless. Said the women in his harem were objects for his pleasure. Is that what you see now? Is that who I was when I held you at the gazebo? When I kissed you at your sister's wedding?"
The memory of his gentleness wars with my anger. "That doesn't explain why you hid it."
"Doesn't it? For once in my life, someone looked at me without seeing the crown first. You saw just a man who might be kind. Do you understand how precious that was? How long has it been since anyone talked to me without calculation, without fear or ambition?"
"So you lied to keep that illusion?"
"I was selfish. When you accepted my pendant, when you let me comfort you, when you kissed me back—you were choosing the man, not the king. I wanted to hold onto that before duty complicated everything."
I sink onto his bed's edge, exhausted. He's right, and that makes it worse. If I'd known he was the king, I would have run.
"You could have told me at the wedding. After you'd already kissed me."
"Would you have let me near you if you'd known?" He sits beside me, leaving space between us, though I feel his warmth. "Tell me honestly."
I can't, because we both know the answer. We sit in silence before I remember. "I've been having dreams."
He tilts his head. "What kind of dreams?"
Heat crawls up my neck. "For three months. Every night. Dreams about three men. Faceless men who touch me, who worship my body in ways that leave me burning with shame when I wake."
His body goes very still. "Three men?"
"I could never see their faces. Just shadows and sensation. I thought I was betraying Elijah with unconscious desires. But then at the festival, I saw them. Nathan and Luca—they were two of the men from my dreams. Their faces suddenly clear."
"Nathan and Luca. My closest friends."
"Yes. And the third..." I meet his eyes. "I couldn't see until tonight. Until I saw you without the mask. It was you."
He's quiet for a long moment. "Tell me about the dreams. What happens in them?"
The question sends heat through me. "Why?"
"Because I need to know. Tell me exactly what you dream."
My breath catches at the intensity in his voice. "The three of you touch me everywhere. Hands mapping my skin like I'm precious. You work together, never fighting, just worshipping me. Making me feel things I didn't know were possible."
"More," he says, voice dark and hungry. "Tell me more."
"One of you—Luca, I think—uses his mouth between my legs while Nathan holds me, whispering how beautiful I am. And you watch. You direct them, tell them where to touch, how to make me fall apart. When I'm begging, that's when you finally touch me yourself."
"Coralina." My name comes out as a growl. "I've been having the same dreams."
"What?"
"Three months. Every night. I can never see her face clearly, but I know her body. I pleasure her alongside two others—now I understand it was Nathan and Luca. We've all been dreaming of you."
"That's impossible."
"Is it?" His hand covers mine. "The Moon Goddess has her own designs."
The touch ignites something that's been simmering since I entered. "What reason could justify this madness?"
"I don't know. But when I touch you, it feels like coming home. Like every dream was preparing me for you."
"Ryder," I breathe, and his name shatters his control.
He cups my face gently. "Tell me to stop. Tell me this is just dreams affecting us, and I'll call for maids to take you back."
"I can't. I don't want you to stop."
He kisses me then—slow, deep, claiming. His hands slide into my hair as I moan into his mouth, my body recognizing his touch from months of dreams.
He lays me back against silk sheets, hands worshipping through thin fabric. Every touch is reverent but deliberate. His mouth trails down my throat.
"Is this how you dreamed it?" he murmurs against my skin.
"Yes," I gasp as his teeth graze where a mate mark would go.
His hands skim my sides, trace my breast through silk, slide up my thighs slowly. "In my dreams, you're always so responsive. So wet before I even touch you properly. Are you wet for me now?"
When his fingers find heat between my legs, I cry out, arching.
"Already soaked," he growls. "Just like the dreams."
He builds pleasure expertly, fingers sliding inside, curling perfectly while his thumb circles. The sensation is overwhelming, exactly as I've dreamed.
"Let go for me," he murmurs. "Show me how you come in our dreams."
Release crashes over me. I scream his name, body bowing as waves roll through me. He works me through every aftershock until I'm trembling. But when I reach for him, he catches my hands.
"No," he says roughly, though desire burns in his eyes.
"Why not?"
"When I claim you fully—if you'll let me—I want it your choice with a clear mind. Not when you're overwhelmed tonight." He pulls me against him carefully. "You deserve to understand everything first."
"What aren't you telling me?"
He's quiet, fingers tracing my shoulder. "My life is complicated. The curse on my bloodline... I can't promise forever. Can't even promise beyond a few years. You deserve to know that."
"I don't understand."
"You will. I'll explain everything, I swear. But tonight, let me hold you. Let me pretend the dreams were prophecy, that you're meant to be mine."
Exhaustion pulls at me with satisfaction humming through my body. His arms feel safer than anything has in months.
"The dreams brought us together," I murmur against his chest. "All four of us. There has to be a reason."
"Perhaps the Moon Goddess knows something we don't," he says, kissing my hair. "Sleep now, little moon."