Chapter Thirteen: Into the Wolf's Den
507 Words
The Eastern pack’s territory begins where the cold ends.
Lush valleys. Heavy air. Trees like watching eyes. Everything here feels alive—and just a little wrong. Like the earth itself is hiding secrets.
Kael rides beside me, his black wolf pacing just beneath the surface of his skin. I can feel his energy coiled tight, his rage barely leashed since the council meeting.
He hasn’t touched me since we left.
Not like before.
Not with heat.
Not with hunger.
Just protective silence and shadowed glances.
And I hate it.
We’re being watched.
Three Eastern wolves flank us as escorts—brothers by blood, judging by their matching dark braids and mirror-sharp expressions. They don't speak. But they watch Kael.
And they devour me with their eyes.
“Do they know what we are?” I murmur.
“They know enough to fear it,” Kael replies, voice low.
We arrive at the border compound near dusk.
It's beautiful in a way that makes your spine itch—silken tents, flickering torches, laughter too loud, music too slow.
And the Alpha?
A woman.
Talia.
Golden-eyed. Serpent-smooth. Her smile cuts like a knife.
“Kael,” she purrs, stepping from her pavilion in a gown of bloodred silk. “You’ve grown more delicious with age.”
Kael’s jaw tightens. “We’re not here to be admired.”
Her eyes slide to me.
Then linger.
“And this,” she says slowly, walking toward me like a predator tasting the air, “must be the infamous Luna. The fire they sent to burn your throne.”
I don't move.
“I thought she’d be more… meek,” she says.
“Keep thinking that,” I reply coolly.
Talia laughs, low and sensual. “Oh, I like her.”
That night, she throws a feast.
Wine flows. Laughter thickens the air. Kael stays close, his hand on my thigh beneath the silk of my dress. Possessive. Warning. And yet, not quite touching.
Until she dances.
Talia, swaying like smoke.
And every wolf watches her.
Except mine.
Kael’s breath is hot at my ear. “You feel them looking?”
“Yes.”
“Let them.”
His hand slides higher.
I choke on a gasp. “Kael—”
“You said you weren’t weak,” he growls softly. “Prove it. Let them see who you belong to.”
He turns me in his lap, dress sliding scandalously high. His mouth captures mine—hungry, wild, unrelenting. It’s not gentle. It’s a claim.
When we break apart, the room is quiet.
Talia smirks. “I suppose the rumors are true.”
Kael wipes wine from my lips with his thumb.
“She’s more than a mate,” he says. “She’s my edge. My weapon. My queen.”
The rest of the night, no one questions me.
But Talia watches.
And when she asks for a private meeting with just me in her tent at midnight…
I say yes.
Because danger is a dance I’ve learned to lead.
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- Writer
