Neris raised her voice. “Parley's trial concluded. Talia Graves wins by yield.”
And then—
“You are my fated mate. I accept you.”
His voice held heat and certainty.
Not a request.
A vow.
Talia had stood there, bruised and breathless, blood drying on her skin, wondering how one sentence could change the shape of her life.
She’d shaken her head in amazement, dizzy from it all.
How had everything changed so fast?
So irrevocably?
So perfectly?
Those words replayed through the night, looping like a heartbeat: I accept you.
They were still replaying when she drifted to sleep in Lucian’s arms—his warmth heavy and protective around her, Moonfire humming faint beneath her skin.
His words were still echoing when she woke.
His heart beneath her ear.
His arm around her waist.
His wolf
