YOU WERE MINE FIRST

He Smelled A Queen

CHAPTER 4: He Smelled A Queen

The howls woke him.

Not me.

I was buried in sleep so heavy I had not felt it in eighteen years. Under black fur that smelled like cold forest after rain and old stone and something wild that made my stomach flip.

Under my heartbeat was another. Deeper. A purr vibrating like a second heart synced with mine.

_Lyra._

She was not a flicker anymore. She was everywhere. Curled around my bones like white fire. Stretching inside my skin like she had been locked in a tiny box and someone finally kicked the door off.

_Sleep, little wolf,_ she murmured, deep and pleased. _Let him keep you warm. He waited long enough for us. His beast thinks he guards you. Cute._

I should have been scared. Last thing I remembered was pain. White hot tearing as my spine shifted, nails turning to claws and back. Rhazien's huge hands holding me steady, not to hurt, to keep me from hurting myself, shouting my name like a prayer. Then dark. Then warmth so deep I thought I died.

Then the howling started.

Not Blood Stone howling. I grew up hearing werewolves howl on full moons. Messy and yipping.

This was sharp. Alarmed. Organized. A warning call that made my hair rise before my mind understood. Lyra did.

The beast holding me, huge head heavy on my stomach, tail curled around my ankles in a loose possessive loop, went rigid.

One second warm and breathing slow. Next every muscle locked. Ears flat. Lips peeled back from teeth longer than my fingers.

A growl tore out. Not sound. Force. It shook black stone walls. Rattled windows over Black Mountain. Dust fell from the vaulted ceiling.

_Oh,_ Lyra said, and I heard her smile, cold and royal. _He is territorial. His pack smelled me. They smelled a Queen waking in his bed, in a castle where no Queen was ever allowed, and think he hides a Queen to keep alone. Males are so predictable. They came to challenge him for us._

I could not breathe. His tail tightened. Not to hurt. Enough to say mine.

"Rhazien?" My voice hoarse. Raw from screaming.

His huge gold eyes snapped to me. Pinning.

Fully awake. Fully beast. No man left.

He lowered his massive snout until inches from my face. Every whisker. Every mark mirroring his human face. Hot breath washed my cheek. Wet black nose brushed my hair, temple, down my neck where his shirt slipped off my shoulder.

I should have been terrified. I was in his shirt, in the King's private chambers no one was allowed to enter.

But Lyra pushed forward. Cold rush of white power. Moonlight down my spine. My back arched. Hands fisted tighter in thick fur. A sound tore from my throat.

Not a whimper. Low. Cold. Royal. A growl deeper than werewolf cords should go. It made the beast above freeze.

_Mine,_ she snarled through my mouth, not at him. At the howls outside. _He is ours. This castle is ours. This mountain is ours. Come closer and I will show you why the Temple burned._

Rhazien's beast went still. Huge gold eyes widened. Shock. Recognition.

Then he made a noise I never heard from any werewolf.

A whine. High and choked and almost submissive.

He shoved his massive head against my cheek, hard enough to knock me into pillows, rubbing, whole body wriggling, smearing his scent all over my jaw, neck, hair, whining.

_He knows,_ Lyra purred, ribs vibrating. _His Lycan knows what you are. Tell him to shift back._

"Shift," I whispered, fingers in thick hot fur, heart hammering. "Rhazien, shift back. Please."

He shuddered. Black fur rippled.

Lycans do not shift like werewolves. Werewolves break. Violent.

Lycans melt.

Shadows poured off him like living dark, pooling on black stone then rushing back into skin. Fur receded. Muzzle shortened. Claws became fingers.

In two heartbeats, the beast that took half the bed was gone and the man was back.

Furs wrapped low around his hips, chest bare and heaving. Long black hair damp. Skin covered in scars. Silver lines over shoulders. Jagged mark across ribs.

My eyes shot up. My whole face on fire. His shirt barely covered my thighs.

"Eyes up here, little debt," he growled, voice hoarse. Wrecked. "Look at me when I ask what you are."

"I— I'm Elara—"

"No." He bent, nose brushing my jaw, inhaling deep and shuddering. Whole body shaking. "Try again. My entire castle just woke because something in my bed released White Queen aura so strong my sentries two miles away thought Moon Temple returned. My Beta pounding on my door thinking I went feral. So I ask one more time, little mate— what are you?"

Mate.

_Tell him,_ she ordered, steel under silk. _Tell him his beast bowed for a reason._

"My wolf," I gasped, fists in sheets. "She spoke. Her name is Lyra. She says she is White Queen. Moon Blood. Last one. She says you didn't claim me by debt. You were claimed for us. Goddess made you for me."

Silence.

Rhazien went still. Then slowly lifted his head. Gold eyes searched my face. Found no lie.

"Goddess," he whispered, raw. First time he sounded like that. King who only gave orders. "I knew it. Second I smelled that scent in the offering. I told Cain impossible. White Queens dead. Temple burned and they all burned with it."

He rolled off in one smooth move and paced to the huge arched window, claws out, back heaving.

"White Queens are myth," he said to the glass, to the storm below. "They died three hundred years ago when vampires allied with rogues and witches and burned Moon Temple on Isle of Light. My father told me stories before they cut his throat at treaty table. White fur, eyes like moonstone that glow in dark, howl that can force even Lycan King to knees. They were not werewolves. Not Lycans. Something older. First daughters of Moon herself."

He turned, eyes black now, gold only thin ring, chest heaving. Gaze dropped to my throat where shirt slipped, nostrils flared.

"And you," he said, pointing long black claw. "Eighteen, wolfless until ten minutes ago, bound by debt contract to male supposed to never have Luna, telling me you are White Queen?"

"I don't know what I am!" I shouted, tears spilling. "Yesterday I was nothing! Jaxon said I was defect in front of everyone! Yesterday my parents bound me for debt! Now you say I'm Queen and voice in head says you are hers!"

My voice broke.

Rhazien stared one second. Two. Three where only rain and my crying and banging on double doors filled room.

Then he was back on bed, over me, different. Huge hands cupped my face, hot and shaking, thumbs pulled back so claws would not scratch, wiping tears.

"Don't cry," he ordered, low and fierce and desperate. "Don't ever cry for them again, Elara. You are not defect. You were hidden. Goddess hid you even from yourself until strong enough to survive what you are."

"And what am I?" I sobbed.

He pressed forehead to mine, lips brushing tears.

"You are mine," he whispered. "My Queen. My debt I will never let repay me. My little white monster who made my Lycan, who never submitted to a living soul, whine for first time."

Outside howling got louder. Banging on doors.

Male voice shouting, raw with worry, "My King! Open door! Sentries report Queen scent inside castle walls! Live Queen! Is she in there?! I swear I will break it down!"

Rhazien growled, floor vibrating, eyes never leaving me.

"TOUCH THAT DOOR AND I WILL RIP YOUR ARM OFF AND BEAT YOU TO DEATH WITH IT, CAIN!" he roared, voice pure beast. Then softer, only for me, "My Beta. Concerned."

He still held my face. Still heaving.

Lyra stirred, stretching, and I felt it. Eyes change. Cold rush, moonlight in veins.

Rhazien's breath caught. Gold eyes wide on my face.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Your eyes," he breathed, reverent and wrecked, thumb brushing under my eye, shaking. "Elara... Goddess..."

I scrambled off bed, bare feet hitting cold stone, ran to huge gold mirror.

And screamed.

Not brown. Not dull muddy brown Tanya said looked like dirt.

White. Glowing white, like polished moonstones, thin bright silver rings around pupils pulsing with my heartbeat. Hair had streak now, pure snow white at front, starting at temple, glowing faintly.

Behind me in mirror, Rhazien stared like he just saw his Goddess come down, put on his shirt, and decided to stay.

_Let them howl,_ Lyra purred, and my lips moved with hers, two voices as one, cold and royal and ancient. White eyes flared brighter.

_Let them all howl, little wolf. Let them come and kneel._

Doors burst open with crack that split ancient black wood, hinges screaming.

Standing there, swords drawn, eyes glowing gold, chests heaving, was entire Royal Guard of Blackthorn, twenty biggest Lycans I ever saw, led by male with scar over eye who looked about to kill his King to get to me.