_Vuk Kael Lasković

The war room was carved from the bones of the mountain itself.

Black glass walls, veins of living hellfire crawling behind them like slow lightning.

Holographic screens hovered above the obsidian table: dominion borders, troop movements, satellite feeds of every pack house from here to the southern ice.

All of it flickered crimson and gold, breathing in time with my pulse.

I sat at the head, shirtless, the bite on my shoulder still raw and shining.

Every breath tasted of her.

Every heartbeat dragged me back to the memory of her thighs locked around my hips, her broken little sob when the knot finally seated.

Three hours and nineteen minutes.

Too long.

Elder Darius stood to my left, silver beard brushing the tablet in his gnarled hands, pretending to read decrees he already knew by heart.

He had not looked directly at me since I walked in.

The doors opened.

Eryx stepped through first.

"My lord," he said, voice low. "Cassian Voss requests an audience. Claims it is... urgent pack business."

A faint smirk pulled at my mouth.

The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.

The holo-screens stuttered; golden veins spider-webbed across them like cracks in glass.

I inclined my head once.

Eryx moved aside.

Cassian Voss strode in as though the floor belonged to him.

Black suit cut sharp enough to bleed, bloodstone cufflinks catching the hellfire light.

He stopped the regulation six feet away and bowed, perfectly angled, perfectly late by half a heartbeat.

"Alpha Devil," he said, smooth and loud enough for the walls to hear. "An honor, as always, to stand in your presence."

His pulse was a war drum against my eardrums.

Fast.

Terrified.

Delicious.

I said nothing.

Cassian straightened.

The smile stayed plastered on, but the scent of his fear thickened, sour and wet.

"I come on a matter of... misappropriated assets," he began, voice still polished. "Ten million, paid in full at last night's auction. A rare acquisition from the southern packs: untouched, lunar-veined. A significant investment."

He let the pause hang, expectant.

"And this morning that asset appears to have been... relocated. Without discussion. Without compensation."

Silence.

The shadows in the corners of the room stretched longer, crawling across the floor like living oil.

Elder Darius's knuckles went white around his tablet.

Eryx did not breathe.

Cassian's fingers tightened on the data-pad he carried.

I watched the tremor travel up his wrists.

"Such disputes," he pressed on, "could unsettle the council. A simple acknowledgment of the original transaction, perhaps a reimbursement, or return of the item in question-"

I traced one claw along the edge of the obsidian table.

The stone hissed.

A smoking black groove followed my touch, curling like a burn scar.

Cassian's voice faltered.

He means my mate.

My moon.

The only thing in three and a half centuries that has ever made the void inside me quiet.

And he dares speak of her as though she were cattle.

Elder Darius finally spoke, barely a whisper. "Lord Cassian. Choose your next word with care."

Cassian ignored him.

Sweat beaded at his hairline.

"I only seek what is mine by right of purchase," he said, louder now, reckless. "The girl is my property-"

The room went perfectly still.

I rose.

The holograms winked out one by one, as though someone had pulled their plugs.

The hellfire behind the glass walls flared white-hot, then sank to a sullen ember.

I walked forward until the tips of my boots touched his.

Until he had to crane his neck to hold my gaze.

"Property," I repeated, soft as a confession.

Cassian tried to step back.

He couldn't.

The air had thickened into something solid around him.

I lifted one hand and closed it around his jaw.

My thumb pressed the hinge until bone creaked.

"Open your mouth."

A whimper escaped him.

I waited.

His lips parted on a sob.

I slid two claws inside, hooked the wet muscle of his tongue, and drew it forward until his eyes bulged and tears ran red.

"Pack decree seven," I said, conversational, almost gentle. "No wolf speaks of the Luna as chattel. The penalty is loss of the offending organ."

Cassian thrashed.

Muffled, wet pleas vibrated against my fingers.

I looked into his eyes the entire time.

One clean, deliberate slice.

The tongue came away in my hand, warm and heavy.

Blood sheeted down his chin, soaked the white of his shirt, spattered the dead holo-map in thick crimson drops.

He collapsed to his knees, hands clawing at his ruined mouth, gargled screams filling the room.

I let the tongue fall.

It hit the floor with a soft, wet sound.

"Compensation rendered," I said to no one in particular.

I wiped my hand on the breast of his ruined jacket, slow, thorough, as though cleaning a blade.

Then I turned my back on him.

"Burn the carpet," I told Eryx without looking. "And send what's left of him to the southern border. Let them see what happens when they sell what belongs to me."

The doors opened before I reached them.

I was already moving.

Three hours and twenty-four minutes.

I was done waiting.

My mate was somewhere above me, breathing, bleeding, carrying my mark and my seed.

And I was coming for her.

Everything else could rot.

I find her exactly where Livia was told to put her.

The grand balcony doors stand open to the night.

Wind howls off the mountain, carrying snow and starlight, whipping her white-gold hair like a battle standard.

She is on her knees in the center of the vast obsidian floor, naked, palms open on her thighs, spine straight, head bowed.

Moonlight pours over her like liquid silver.

The bite on her shoulder glows faintly.

The crescent scar at the base of her neck catches the light and throws it back, brighter, purer, holy.

She is waiting for me the way the oldest stories say a Luna waits for her Alpha.

The way no female has ever waited for me in three and a half centuries.

The sight punches the air from my lungs.

I stop in the doorway.

For one heartbeat I cannot move.

Cassian's blood is still drying under my claws.

I can still taste his fear.

And none of it matters.

She hears me.

Her shoulders jerk, but she does not lift her head.

I cross the balcony in silence.

The wind dies the moment I step into the moonlight, as though the night itself is holding its breath.

I drop to my knees in front of her.

The stone is freezing, unforgiving, exactly the way it should be.

My hands (still flecked with another male's blood) rise slowly and cup her face.

She is trembling.

I tilt her chin until those silver eyes meet mine.

There are tears on her lashes, but she is not crying now.

She is offering.

I brush my thumbs across her cheekbones, smearing faint red streaks that are not hers.

Then I lean forward and press my lips to the bite I left on her shoulder, gentle, reverent, the way a pilgrim kisses sacred ground.

The growl that leaves me is not rage, not lust, but something older, something that has no name.

"Never again," I whisper against her skin. "No one will ever put a price on you again."

Her breath hitches.

I pull back just far enough to look at her.

The wind picks up once more, but it moves around us now, as though afraid to touch.

I rise, pulling her up with me.

She comes willingly, but her legs shake so hard they almost can't lock them around my waist.

A soft, broken whimper spills from her lips when her slick folds drag over the ridge of my cock through the leathers.

She buries her face in my neck, hiding, trembling, little fingers clutching my shoulders like I'm the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

I carry her the ten steps to the balustrade.

Every stride makes her cunt grind against me; every grind tears another helpless sound from her throat, quiet, frightened, wet.

At the railing I lower her slowly.

The stone is ice against her bare thighs.

A thousand-foot drop yawns behind her back.

She gasps, arms flying around my neck, nails digging in.

Not from lust, from terror of the drop, from the cold, from the size of me, from everything that has happened in the last day.

Her whole body is shaking, tears already slipping free, silver tracks on her cheeks that freeze almost instantly in the wind.

I cage her there with my body, one forearm braced beside her head, the other hand sliding between us.

I don't ask.

I don't speak.

I simply open my leathers and fist my cock once, slow, letting her feel the heat and weight of it against her belly.

She whimpers again, higher, tries to close her thighs on instinct.

I wedge my hips between them and spread her wider.

The head nudges her entrance, already drenched, swollen, fluttering.

She's so small against me I have to fight the urge to split her in half.

I push in.

One long, merciless thrust and I'm seated to the hilt.

Her cry is thin and shattered, carried away on the wind.

Her walls clamp down in panic and pleasure at once, spasming around the invasion, trying to push me out and pull me deeper in the same breath.

Tears pour faster; her mouth opens on silent sobs, lips trembling against my throat.

I stay buried, letting her feel every burning inch, letting the knot press threateningly at her entrance.

My hand cups the back of her skull, forcing her to stay pressed to me.

"Breathe, little moon," I rasp against her ear, voice rough but steady. "Breathe. I have you."

She tries.

A broken inhale, another whimper, her body slowly softening, yielding even while it shakes.

Only when the tears slow do I move.

Slow, deep strokes at first, dragging out, slamming back in, each one punching a new sob from her lungs.

Her nails rake my back, not urging, just clinging for life.

Snowflakes catch on her lashes; moonlight turns the tears on her cheeks to diamonds.

I angle my hips, find that spot inside her that makes her jerk and cry out louder, and stay there, grinding until her sobs fracture into something else, something helpless and needy that isn't quite begging yet.

The knot begins to swell.

I feel it catch on every withdrawal, stretching her rim, forcing her to take more, more, more.

She starts shaking her head against my shoulder, overwhelmed, frightened of the size, of the burn, of how full she already is.

I don't stop.

One arm locks under her ass, lifting her slightly so the angle is brutal, the other hand collars her throat, gentle but immovable, keeping her exactly where I want her.

"Look at me," I order, low.

Her eyes flutter open, glassy, terrified, luminous.

I drive forward again and the knot finally breaches.

Her mouth opens in a silent scream, back bowing off the stone, tears streaming sideways into her hair.

Her cunt locks down in violent pulses, milking me before I've even started to come.

I roar into the night, hips jerking, pumping her full in thick, endless ropes until it spills out around the knot and drips down the ancient stone of the balcony, steaming in the snow.

She's sobbing openly now, soft, overwhelmed, clinging to me with everything she has, face hidden against my throat while her body still fluttering around the knot in helpless aftershocks.

I stay buried deep, arms wrapped around her so tightly she can barely breathe, letting the wind howl and the dominion watch.

Let them see.

Let them all see what happens to anyone who ever thought they could own her.

I press my lips to her temple, tasting salt and snow and her.

"Mine," I whisper into her hair, voice ragged. "Only mine."

– Nyxara

The balcony doors hadn't even stopped swinging when the first howl hit.

I felt it in my bones, in my cunt, in the base of my tail.

Seven thousand wolves singing at once-like the mountain itself had learned how to scream in devotion.

Azrael's fingers were still buried knuckle-deep inside me, frozen mid-thrust, gold eyes wide and furious.

He'd been two heartbeats from knotting me against the war-room window when the sound wave crashed through the fortress.

Now his claws pricked my hips hard enough to draw thin lines of blood.

"He actually did it," he snarled, voice shredded with disbelief and raw, black jealousy.

"He knotted her in front of the entire dominion."

I laughed-low, filthy, delighted-and coiled my tail tight around his wrist so he couldn't pull those fingers free.

"Of course he did, darling," I purred, rolling my hips until his knuckles kissed the mouth of my womb.

"The devil just found his god."

Azrael's answering growl vibrated straight through my spine.

He hated losing control.

He hated even more that he couldn't tear his eyes off the holo-feed still burning across the glass: Vuk's massive frame silhouetted in moonlight, the tiny white-haired girl impaled and shaking on his knot, both of them glowing like a fallen star swallowed by hellfire.

I licked a slow stripe up his throat, tasting smoke and pure envy.

"Careful, Az," I whispered against his racing pulse. "Keep glaring like that and I'll think you're jealous of a mortal."

He moved faster than thought.

One second his fingers were inside me;

the next his hand was gone, spinning me, slamming my bare breasts smashing against cold glass as he kicked my thighs wider.

Then he drove into me.

No warning.

No gentleness.

Just one brutal, punishing thrust that buried every thick, ridged inch of his cock to the root.

The window cracked under my palms-spiderwebs of fracture blooming outward from where my claws scraped for purchase.

I screamed, half laughter, half sob, as my cunt stretched around him, burning and perfect.

He didn't pause.

He pulled back until only the flared head of his cock kissed my entrance, then slammed home again-harder-deeper-until his heavy balls slapped against my clit made obscene, wet sounds echo through the war room.

"Mine," he snarled against my ear, teeth scraping the shell.

"Say it."

I bared my fangs in a grin and shoved back, taking him to the hilt, grinding my ass against his hips.

"Make me."

That earned me a roar.

He fisted my white hair, yanking my head back until my throat was a taut, vulnerable line.

His other hand clamped around my neck, claws pricking just enough to threaten.

Then he fucked me like the world was ending.

Every thrust brutal.

Every drag of his ridged shaft lighting up every nerve inside me.

His knot began to swell on the outstroke, catching at my rim, stretching me wider, forcing me to take more-more-until I was sobbing his name into the cracked glass, drool smearing the pane.

He didn't stop.

He hammered into me, pace savage, relentless, hips snapping with demonic strength.

Each time his knot popped past my entrance I felt myself split open and remade, the burn so exquisite I saw stars.

My tail lashed wildly, coiling around his thigh, urging him deeper.

"Greedy little succubus," he growled, voice wrecked.

"You want this knot? You want me to breed this cunt while the whole pack howls for someone else?"

"Yes-fuck-yes-"

He gave it to me.

One final, punishing thrust and his knot locked.

The stretch was blinding.

I came with a silent scream, walls spasming around the impossible girth, milking him as he started to spill.

Hot.

Endless.

Jet after jet of demonic seed flooding me so deep I felt it in my womb.

He kept coming, hips jerking in tiny, helpless thrusts, grinding that knot against my g-spot until I came again-harder-shaking so violently the glass rattled in its frame.

We stayed locked like that, trembling, panting, his teeth scraping my shoulder where a claiming bite would go if I were anyone else.

His cum was already leaking around his knot, sliding in thick rivulets down my thighs, mixing with my own slick until the scent of us was obscene.

Only then did the knock come.

Three measured taps.

Only one male in this fortress knocks like the doors already belong to him.

Azrael's growl vibrated through my spine and straight into my over-sensitized cunt.

I just smiled-slow, sharp, and clenched around his knot until he cursed like a prayer.

"Easy, love," I purred, sliding off him with deliberate, cruel grace.

His cock slipped free with a wet, filthy sound, his spend gushing out of me in a hot rush, painting my thighs, dripping onto the marble in thick white ropes.

I didn't bother wiping it away.

I was still naked except for the ruined scrap of white silk clinging to one breast and the skirt that barely covered my ass.

Perfect.

Azrael reached for me, eyes molten.

I danced out of his grasp, tail flicking teasingly across his still-hard, slick-shining cock.

"Let me go see what the devil wants," I said, voice syrupy sin.

I pressed a soft, filthy kiss to his mouth-tasting myself, tasting him-and walked out, barefoot, dripping, thoroughly claimed and utterly unrepentant.

The corridor was colder.

Two guards snapped to attention.

One of them-young, stupid, brave-let out a low whistle I hadn't asked for.

I stopped.

Turned my head.

My eyes flared violet, pupils narrowing to slits.

"Fuck off, loser," I said, sweet as poison.

He dropped to his knees so fast his helmet rang against the stone.

I kept walking, hips rolling, tail swaying like a metronome of ruin.

The doors to Vuk's private chamber opened before I touched them.

He was waiting.

Shirtless, leathers unlaced, the fresh bite on his shoulder glowing gold against bronze skin.

Behind him, on the obsidian bed, his little moon slept curled in black furs-white-gold hair spilling everywhere, lips swollen, thighs still trembling in her dreams.

The scent of sex and mate-bond hung so thick in the air I could have gotten drunk on it.

Vuk's gaze dragged over me, slow, deliberate, lingering on the slick shining between my legs.

I let him look.

Then I liked the way his nostrils flared.

"My Lord," I said, voice velvet and venom.

"I know you met with Cassian's emissary three nights ago," he said, low and flat. "Every word. Now."

I stepped closer, close enough that my tail brushed his boot.

"Careful, Alpha Devil," I murmured. "I'm a succubus. I don't kneel. I don't pledge. I don't belong to anyone."

I tilted my head, let my gaze drop to the sleeping girl, then back up to him.

"But I will say this for free..."

I leaned in until my lips almost brushed his ear.

"Congratulations on finding your god, Vuk Lasković."

I pulled back just enough to meet his eyes.

"She's going to burn the world down wearing your mark. And I, for one, can't wait to watch."

"That isn't the answer to my question, seductress."

I let my tongue trace my lower lip, slow.

"Well, I chose not to answer... my Lord."

A faint, broken whimper floated across the room.

Both of us turned at the same time.

Maureen was sitting up in the middle of the massive bed, black furs clutched to her chest like armor made of fear. White-gold hair tumbled everywhere, silver eyes huge and glassy, skin so pale it looked translucent in the hellfire light. The bite on her shoulder still glowed, fresh and possessive, a brand that shimmered every time her pulse fluttered.

She stared at me like I was the first demon she'd ever seen in the flesh.

And I suppose I was.

Her terror hit my tongue like champagne: pure, bright, intoxicating.

I felt my tail flick once, hungry.

Vuk moved before I could blink: one step toward the bed, shoulders rolling like a wolf ready to tear apart anything that looked at his mate wrong.

I lifted both hands, palms open, smile softening into something almost gentle.

"Well, well," I murmured, voice velvet and smoke. "Didn't mean to wake the beauty in distress."

Maureen's knuckles went white around the fur. Her gaze darted from my horns to my tail to the slick still shining on my thighs, then snapped to Vuk, pleading.

Vuk's growl was low thunder.

"Nyxara."

I ignored him.

I took one slow step closer to the bed, letting my tail curl lazily behind me like a cat deciding whether to pounce.

"Hello, little moon," I said, soft enough that only she and Vuk could hear. "I'm Nyx. I don't bite unless invited."

A lie, but a pretty one.

Her lips parted on a shaky breath. No sound came out.

I let my gaze drag over her slowly: the bruises shaped like Vuk's fingers on her throat, the faint glow of the crescent scar at the base of her spine, the way her thighs pressed together under the fur like she was still feeling him inside her.

Delicious.

I turned back to Vuk, smile sharpening again.

"Cassian's emissary offered me a fortune to find a way to cage her again," I said, conversational. "I took the money. Haven't decided what to do with it yet."

Maureen Laurent

Livia was pointing out the stained-glass windows in the upper gallery when the moan drifted up the stairwell.

Low. Filthy. Unashamed.

My feet stopped moving on their own.

Down on the mezzanine below, Nyxara had some poor captain of the guard pinned to a column. Her tail was coiled around his throat like a velvet leash while her hand worked inside his open leathers with slow, cruel precision. His head was thrown back, fangs bared to the ceiling, hips jerking helplessly into her grip.

I should have looked away.

I didn't.

Heat crawled up my throat, equal parts horror and something darker I refused to name.

A soft gasp slipped out of me before I could stop it.

Nyxara's violet eyes snapped up instantly. Found me. Held.

The guard kept thrusting into her hand like a puppet with its strings cut, but Nyxara smiled, slow and sharp, never breaking rhythm.

"Well," she purred, voice carrying easily over the wet sounds and the male's broken groans, "if it isn't the little moon herself."

Livia stepped half in front of me, voice trembling. "Lady Nyxara, the Luna is-"

"Perfectly capable of speaking," Nyxara cut in, eyes still locked on mine. She gave the guard one last lazy stroke, then let him go. He slid down the column in a boneless heap, cock still hard and glistening, chest heaving.

Nyxara wiped her fingers on his cheek like he was a napkin and started up the stairs toward us, tail swaying like a metronome of ruin.

Every instinct screamed at me to drop my gaze.

I didn't.

I lifted my chin instead.

She stopped one step below me-so we were eye-level-and tilted her head. The scent of sex and brimstone rolled off her in waves.

"Enjoying the tour, pearl?" she asked, soft as sin.

My pulse hammered so hard I felt it in the bite mark on my shoulder. Vuk's mark. Still tender. Still glowing faintly under the silk.

I forced my voice steady. "I was. Until the furniture started moaning."

A delighted laugh spilled out of her. "Oh, I like you."

Livia made a tiny strangled sound.

Nyxara's tail flicked out, quick as a whip, and curled loosely around my wrist-not tight, just a warm, velvet reminder that she could crush bone if she wanted.

"Run along, Livia," she said without looking away from me. "I'll finish the tour."

Livia hesitated, eyes darting to me in panic.

I gave her the smallest nod.

Because I was tired of being dragged around like a fragile ornament.

Because the Luna of the Northern Dominion does not cower behind her maid.

And because something vicious and curious inside me wanted to see how far this succubus would push before she bled.

Nyxara's smile widened, like she heard every thought.

She tugged once on my wrist, gentle but undeniable.

"Come, Pearl," she murmured. "Let me show you what the pack house looks like."I let her lead me down the stairs, past the guard still panting on the floor.

But I didn't lower my eyes.

Not once.

Nyxara didn't speak again until we were three corridors away from the moaning guard.

She walked like the fortress belonged to her hips alone, tail swaying, claws clicking softly on the obsidian floor.

Every wolf we passed dropped their eyes and bared their throat. She didn't acknowledge a single one.

Finally she glanced sideways at me, violet eyes glittering.

"Everyone knows you came from the southern auction block, Pearl," she said, voice lazy. "But no one seems to know how a lunar-veined virgin ended up on the slab in the first place. Care to enlighten me?"

I exhaled through my nose. The air tasted of brimstone and old blood.

"My fiancé sold me," I said quietly. "Silas Vane. He and his family murdered my parents, my unborn brother, everyone I had. Then they forged the papers that said I was born rogue, no pack, no rights. Ten million was apparently the going rate for my corpse once they'd bled the Laurent land dry."

I expected pity. Or a dramatic gasp.

I got neither.

Nyxara stopped dead in the middle of the hallway, turned to face me fully, and stared like I'd grown a second head.

"You're telling me," she said slowly, "that you were engaged to that golden-haired southern peacock, and you didn't notice he was a backstabbing, mother-murdering, sister-fucking psychopath until he literally sold you at auction?"

Heat flooded my cheeks. "He was... convincing."

"Pearl." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I've met rocks with better survival instincts."

A surprised laugh burst out of me before I could stop it. It hurt my ribs, but it felt good.

Nyxara's mouth curved, not quite gentle, but warmer than anything she'd shown me so far.

"Men," she sighed, resuming her walk. "They smile with knives behind their teeth and we still spread our legs for the sparkle. You're lucky the Moon Goddess has a sense of humor. She took your trash and traded up for the actual Devil."

I bit my lip. "I'm not sure 'lucky' is the word I'd use."

"No?" She arched a brow. "You're breathing. You're unmarked by anyone except the most powerful wolf alive. And you made him kneel, Pearl. I felt the bond snap into place from three floors away. That doesn't happen to unlucky girls."

We stepped through an archway into the upper gallery that overlooked the main hall. Down below, wolves in silver masks moved like ghosts, carrying trays of black wine and whispering about the tongue-less lord bleeding out in the infirmary.

Nyxara leaned her forearms on the balustrade, tail curling idly around the stone.

"So," she said, softer now, "are you enjoying the place?"

I followed her gaze. Torchlight flickered over statues of snarling wolves and crucified angels. Blood still stained the snow visible through the tall windows. Somewhere far off, chains rattled and someone screamed.

I thought of silk sheets soaked in us.

Of Vuk on his knees in front of me this morning, forehead pressed to the floor, voice cracked open and bleeding apology.

Of the way my body still carried his seed like it had decided to stay forever.

I wrapped my arms around myself.

"I didn't expect my mate to be the Alpha Devil," I admitted, voice barely above the wind. "It feels like the greatest privilege in the world... and the heaviest curse ever sewn into my skin."

Nyxara's tail stilled mid-curl.

For once the succubus didn't answer with a barb or a purr. She just studied me, violet eyes unreadable, like she was seeing something she hadn't expected to find.

Then the air changed.

It always does when he's close. Torches flare higher. The temperature spikes. My skin prickles like the moment before lightning.

Vuk stepped through the archway without a sound, yet every wolf in the hall below dropped to one knee in perfect synchrony, as if an invisible hand had pressed them to the stone.

He didn't look at them.

He looked only at me.

Seven feet of black linen and barely leashed violence, hair still damp from training, shirt half-open, the bite I'd left on his shoulder glowing gold against bronze skin. His gaze swept over me like hands, possessive and starving, and the bond in my chest yanked so hard I swayed.

Nyxara sighed theatrically. "And there it is. The devil on his leash."

Vuk crossed the gallery in four strides. He didn't slow, didn't speak; he simply slid one arm around my waist, hauled me off my feet, and crushed his mouth to mine.

It wasn't a greeting.

It was a claiming.

His tongue swept in like he needed to taste that I was still real, still his. Fangs grazed my lip. A growl rumbled from his chest straight into mine, vibrating through the bond until my knees buckled. I made a helpless sound against his mouth, hands flying to his shoulders more for balance than anything else.

He kissed me until my lungs burned and the world narrowed to the heat of him, the scrape of his stubble, the way his hand fisted in my hair like he was afraid I'd vanish if he let go.

When he finally pulled back an inch, his eyes were molten gold, pupils blown wide.

"Little moon," he rasped, voice shredded. "Four hours. I almost tore the fortress apart."

Nyxara made a loud gagging noise behind us. "Oh, for fuck's sake. I had her for seven minutes. Seven. I didn't even get to the good gossip."

Vuk didn't look away from me. "Leave us."

A flick of two fingers, like swatting a fly.

Nyxara's tail lashed once, hard enough to crack the air. "Charming as ever, my lord." She leaned in, lips brushing my ear so only I could hear. "He's worse when he's starving, Pearl. Remember that."

Then she was gone, hips rolling, tail flicking a lazy goodbye to the entire hall.

The moment her footsteps faded, Vuk's arms tightened until I could feel every thundering beat of his heart against my ribs.

"I missed you," he said against my temple, the words rough, almost angry. "I sat in council and smelled you on my skin and nearly killed three elders for breathing too loud."

I swallowed. My palms were still flat against his chest; I could feel the tremor running through him, ancient, immortal muscle shaking because I hadn't been in the same room.

"Vuk," I started, voice small, "it was only four hours."

He pulled back just enough to look at me, and the raw desperation in his eyes stole my breath.

"Four hours is a lifetime when you've waited three hundred and fifty years," he said. "When every second without you feels like claws in my ribs. You don't understand yet. Mortal hearts beat fast; immortal ones learn to live half-dead. Then you walked in and mine remembered how to beat at all. And now it won't slow down. It won't ever slow down again."

His thumb brushed my lower lip, gentle and reverent and terrifying.

"I'm not overdoing it, Maureen. I'm barely holding on."