Tasted By The King

The Ghost Who Left

Three years ago. Pack Blackmoor.

"You're being dramatic."

I pressed the last shirt into my bag and didn't look up. If I looked at him—at that perfectly sculpted face, at the wedding ring he still wore even though his heart belonged to another woman—I would break.

"Raina." Caleb's voice took on that impatient edge. The one he used when I was being difficult. "Put the bag down. We'll talk about this."

"We've been talking for six months." I zipped the bag. "You don't listen."

His jaw tightened. "Vera needs me. Her mate died. Her pup is fatherless."

"And I need a husband who comes home before dawn. Who remembers my name without being reminded. Who doesn't flinch when I touch him."

The silence that followed was louder than any scream.

I slung the bag over my shoulder and finally—finally—met his eyes.

Those eyes. Once they'd looked at me like I was the moon. Now they just looked through me.

"Where will you go?" he asked.

Not don't go. Not I love you.

Where will you go?

Like I was an inconvenience he needed to plan around.

"I'll figure it out." I walked past him, through the bedroom door, down the hallway lined with photos of us—younger, happier, stupider. "That's what ghosts do. We wander."

"You're not a ghost, Raina."

I stopped at the front door. Turned slowly.

"I've been a ghost in this house for six months, Caleb. Vera has my seat at the dinner table. Her pup has your lap. The only thing left of me is the dust on the windowsills."

His face crumpled—just for a second. Just enough to make my wolf whimper.

Stay, she begged. He still loves us. Somewhere. Deep down.

But I'd been drowning in deep down for half a year.

"I'll send for my things," I said.

And I walked out.

Present day. The Rogue Quarter, near the Sunder border.

The knife pressed against my throat before I heard him breathe.

"You're far from home, little wolf."

I didn't flinch. Didn't gasp. Didn't give him the satisfaction.

Three years of surviving rogue territory had taught me one thing above all else:

Fear is a scent. And they can all smell it.

"Depends on your definition of home," I said quietly.

The man behind me chuckled. His blade didn't move. "Pretty words. Pretty face. You lost?"

"I'm exactly where I need to be."

"Is that so?"

I felt his chest press against my back. Alpha. Strong. Probably mid-thirties. His scent was smoke and cedar and something darker—blood, maybe. Or just the promise of it.

"Turn around," he commanded.

I didn't move.

"I said turn around, wolf."

"No."

The blade pressed deeper. A pinprick of warmth trickled down my neck.

"You have a death wish?"

"I have a point." I held perfectly still. "You're Kael, aren't you? The King of Sunder?"

The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut.

Then he laughed—low and dark and absolutely without humor.

"Most wolves who say my name do it while begging."

"Then most wolves are disappointments."

He spun me around.

And for the first time in three years, I forgot how to breathe.

He wasn't just handsome. Handsome was Caleb with his boyish grin and easy charm. This man was devastation. All sharp angles and cruel beauty. Dark hair falling over a scarred brow. Eyes like molten amber—the same amber I'd seen in my nightmares since I left.

But it wasn't his face that stole my voice.

It was the recognition.

"Raina," he said. Not a question. Not quite a confirmation either. Just... my name. Rolling off his tongue like he'd been saving it.

"How do you know who I am?"

"Everyone knows who you are." Kael tilted his head, studying me the way a predator studies prey that's interesting. "The Luna who walked out on Blackmoor. The ghost who became a blade. Rogue Alphas whisper about you in their dens."

"I'm flattered."

"Don't be." His gaze dropped to the blood on my neck. Then lower. Then back to my eyes. "They whisper because they want to break you. Tame you. Mount your head on their walls."

"And you?"

One dark brow rose. "What about me?"

"Do you want to break me too, King?"

The rain chose that moment to start falling. Fat drops splashing on brick, on his shoulders, on the small cut still bleeding down my collarbone.

Kael stepped closer.

I didn't step back.

"Three years ago," he murmured, close enough that his breath warmed my lips, "your mate made a deal with me. Territory borders. Trade routes. The usual politics between kings."

"I don't care about politics."

"You should. This deal cost him something precious. And he paid it willingly."

I frowned. "What did he pay?"

Kael smiled. It was not a nice smile.

"You."

My blood went cold.

"The deal was sealed the night you left," he continued. "Did you never wonder why Caleb didn't follow? Why not a single Blackmoor scout came looking for their lost Luna?"

I'd wondered. Every night. Every morning. Every time I closed my eyes and saw Caleb's face—where will you go?

"Your mate sold you to me," Kael said. "You're not a ghost, Raina. You're mine. And you have been for three years."

"That's—that's not possible. I'm not property. Contracts like that don't—"

"They do when the Alpha signs with his blood and the King seals with his teeth." He reached up, slow enough that I could have pulled away. I didn't. His thumb traced the cut on my neck, collecting my blood. Then he put that thumb in his mouth.

And tasted.

"The bond recognizes you now," he said softly. "Feel it?"

I did.

Oh gods, I did.

Something was waking up inside me. Something vast and dark and ancient. It curled around my wolf like smoke, like chains, like the most dangerous promise I'd ever heard.

"No," I whispered.

"Yes."

"I didn't agree to this."

"You didn't have to. Caleb did. And according to our laws, what the Alpha owns—"

"I'm not owned."

Kael's eyes darkened. His hand moved from my neck to my jaw, gripping hard enough to force my chin up.

"Then fight me," he growled. "Shift. Scratch. Bite. Show me the wolf who survived three years in rogue territory without a pack. Show me the woman who walked away from everything she knew because she refused to be a ghost."

"I will."

"Do it."

Rain streamed down my face. Down his. We stood in that filthy alley like two statues—one king, one ghost—and the bond between us pulsed like a second heartbeat.

I raised my hand.

Placed my palm flat against his chest.

And pushed.

He didn't move.

Not an inch.

"You're stronger than I expected," Kael said. "But not strong enough."

"I'm just getting started."

"That's what I'm counting on." He released my jaw. Stepped back. The loss of his warmth was almost physical. "Come with me, Raina."

"Where?"

"Home."

"I don't have a home."

"You do now." He extended his hand. Rain dripped from his fingertips. "It's been yours for three years. You just didn't know it."

I looked at his hand. Then at his face.

Then at the alley exit behind him—freedom, maybe. Or just more running.

"If I say no?"

"Then you say no." Kael shrugged like it didn't matter. But his eyes betrayed him. They burned. "I won't drag you. I won't chain you. I want you willing, Raina. Desperate. Begging."

"Bold assumption."

"Is it?" He smiled again—that dark, devastating curve of his lips. "You've been alone for three years. No pack. No mate. No purpose except survival. I'm offering you everything."

"You're offering me a cage."

"All homes are cages, little wolf. The question is whether the bars are made of gold or iron."

I stared at his hand.

My wolf paced inside me. She wasn't afraid of him. That was the terrifying part.

She was curious.

"I need to think," I said.

"Take all the time you need." Kael dropped his hand. Turned. Walked three steps toward the alley exit. Then stopped. "Oh, and Raina?"

"What?"

"Caleb is looking for you now."

My heart stopped. "What?"

"Three years of nothing. And suddenly, your dear mate is desperate to find you. Isn't that interesting?" Kael glanced over his shoulder. Rain plastered his dark hair to his forehead. "He's been asking questions. Paying informants. Following your trail."

"Why now?"

"You'd have to ask him." Kael's amber eyes glittered. "But if I had to guess? Someone told him I found you first."

He disappeared into the rain.

And I stood there—soaked, bleeding, trembling—with a bond I never asked for pulsing in my chest and an ex-mate who suddenly wanted me back.

What game is this?

I didn't have an answer.

But I was going to find out.