Claimed by the King.
1148 Words
His mouth crashed into mine.
There was no hesitation, no softness. Darius kissed like he ruled — demanding, scorching, a brand that erased every cold word Kade had ever spoken. His hand fisted in my hair, tilting my head exactly where he wanted, and a sound I didn’t recognize tore from my throat.
It wasn’t pain. It was relief.
For three heartbeats, the world narrowed to heat and silver and the terrifying safety of his arms. His tongue traced my bottom lip, asking, not taking, and Goddess help me, I opened for him.
He tasted like winter storms and power. Like coming home to a place I’d never been.
The curse. The stories said any woman he kissed would be dead by sunrise.
I should have been terrified. Instead, my hands fisted in the black tactical fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. If I died at dawn, at least I’d die knowing what it felt like to be *wanted*.
Darius growled, the sound vibrating from his chest into mine. His other hand spanned my waist, fingers splaying against my spine, and he lifted me. My feet left the ground. My legs wrapped his hips on instinct, and the hard evidence of his desire pressed against the core of me.
“Elara,” he rasped against my mouth, breaking the kiss only to trail his lips down my jaw, my throat. Each touch was fire. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”
The howls from Silverfang territory were closer now. Kade’s pack, hunting their discarded trash.
Trash that was currently clinging to a king.
“I—” My voice broke as his teeth grazed my pulse point, not biting, just *promising*. “I don’t even know you.”
“You know enough.” He pulled back, silver eyes blazing, pupils blown wide. His thumb brushed my swollen lips. “You know I looked at you and saw a queen, not a defect. You know I’d burn this forest down before I let him touch you again.”
His words hit harder than the kiss. No one had ever chosen me. Not really. Kade chose his pack’s opinion. My father chose his Beta title.
Darius was choosing *me*. Broken, wolf-less, exiled me.
“Yes,” I breathed. “I’m yours.”
The change in him was instant. Possession rolled off him in waves, thick and heady, and the air crackled. He didn’t smile. Kings didn’t smile when they won wars.
They planned the victory parade.
“Good girl,” he murmured, and the praise went straight to my bones. He set me down but kept one arm locked around my waist. “Now we run.”
“Run?” I blinked. “You’re the Lycan King. Can’t you just—”
“Kill them all? Yes.” His grin was all teeth. “But you’re shaking, little wolf. Adrenaline crash. And I want your first night in my territory to be in a bed, not a battlefield.”
Before I could argue, he swept me into his arms bridal-style. One second we were in the clearing. The next, he moved.
Not ran. *Moved*. The trees blurred. Wind tore at my hair. This wasn’t Alpha speed. This was something older. Something that made Kade look like he was walking.
I buried my face in his neck, breathing frost and pine, and realized I wasn’t scared. For the first time since Kade said “reject,” I felt safe.
We stopped in front of gates. Not pack gates. These were iron, twenty feet high, carved with wolves mid-war. They swung open without a touch, admitting us to a courtyard that belonged in dark fairytales. Black stone castle. Guards in tactical gear who dropped to one knee as Darius passed.
“King Darius,” they chorused. “Luna.”
I choked. “I’m not—”
“You are now.” Darius didn’t break stride, carrying me through halls lit by fire and magic. Portraits of vicious, silver-eyed men watched us. His ancestors. “You said yes. In my world, that’s law.”
He kicked open a set of double doors. His bedroom. It was massive, all black and silver and dark wood. A bed big enough for a pack. A balcony overlooking the entire Forbidden Territory. And in the center, a rug made of white wolf pelt.
My stomach dropped. “Is that—”
“A traitor,” he said flatly, setting me on my feet but keeping my hand. “He thought he could sell my secrets. He learned otherwise.”
The casual violence should have horrified me. Instead, it steadied me. Kade used politics and public shame. Darius used claws and consequence.
“Why me?” I had to ask. The question burned out of me. “Your curse kills women. I’m wolf-less. I’m nothing. Why risk it?”
Darius was in front of me in a blink, cupping my face with both hands now. Forced me to meet his gaze.
“Look at me, Elara. Really look.”
I did. And saw it — not just heat. Not just possession. Under the Dominant, under the King, was something that looked wrecked. And hopeful.
“My curse kills lovers,” he said, voice quiet but it filled the room. “Women who want the crown. The power. They touch me and the curse smells the greed. It burns them out.”
His thumb stroked my cheekbone. “You? You ran *from* a crown. You chose exile over begging a fool to keep you. You looked at me and thought ‘danger’, not ‘opportunity’.”
He leaned his forehead against mine. “The curse went silent when I touched you. First time in a century. Because you don’t want my kingdom, little wolf.”
“Then what do I want?” I whispered.
His smile was slow, lethal, and it was all for me. “Me. Just me. And that,” he kissed the corner of my mouth, “is why you’re going to break it.”
A knock shattered the moment. “My King,” a voice called. “Silverfang Alpha is at the gates. He’s demanding we return his ‘property’.”
Kade. Here.
Darius went still. Then he looked at me, and the silver in his eyes went nuclear.
“Property?” He laughed, and it wasn’t a nice sound. He pressed one last hard kiss to my mouth, a branding, a promise.
Then he turned to the door, rolling his shoulders like a fighter stepping into the ring. “Tell the arrogant pup,” he said, voice carrying through the wood, “that he rejected his Luna.”
His gaze cut back to me, hot and claiming.
“But I claimed my Queen.”
He stalked toward the door, and I knew, with bone-deep certainty—
The war for me had just begun.
- Writer
