Lyra’s POV
The physical transformation from a disgraced border guard into the Warlord’s publicly declared favorite was a meticulous, deeply intimate process.
Fenrir absolutely refused to let the keep’s servants touch me. He locked the heavy oak doors to his private wing and took complete, possessive charge of my preparation. It was a staggering reversal of power; the Alpha Prime, the most lethal man in the territory, acting as a devoted caretaker to ensure my armor was flawless.
He drew a steaming bath in the heavy copper tub near the hearth, filling the water with soothing, fragrant oils to ease the heavy ache in my muscles. He washed the dried sweat and the scent of our frantic coupling from my skin, his massive hands moving over my body with a breathtaking, reverent gentleness. He wa
