The Savior
1701 Words
The night was still — too still.
For three days since the Council meeting, Lucian had barely slept. The echoes of Malric’s words stalked him like ghosts: “You should have killed her. Before she finishes you.”
He couldn’t banish the sound. Couldn’t erase the memory of Ember’s eyes — or the truth that he had destroyed everything she’d ever loved.
The King of Thorne had fought wars, conquered nations, and commanded armies that would die at his word. But nothing terrified him more than the thought of losing her — not to his enemies, but to himself.
Tonight, that fear would be tested.
The first warning came as a shift in the wind.
Lucian froze in his war chamber, head lifting, wolf stirring beneath his skin. The faintest trace of smoke and iron slid through the open balcony — the scent of blood.
And underneath it, a stench that made his fangs bare.
Rogues.
He moved before the guards outside even sensed it. Power rippled through him as he crossed the hall, his steps echoing against the marble. The bond throbbed suddenly, violently — a sharp pain across his chest.
Ember.
The moment her scent spiked in panic, the world turned red.
—
Ember hadn’t meant to wander far. The gardens outside her chamber glowed softly under the moonlight, their stillness a fragile peace she’d been desperate to taste. After days of silence, of Lucian’s avoidance, she needed to breathe — to be somewhere that wasn’t made of stone and judgment.
She was halfway through the path when she felt it.
The air shifted. The hairs on her arms rose.
Then came the growl.
Low. Ferocious. Wrong.
Before she could turn, a shadow lunged from the trees. Ember gasped, stumbling back as claws tore through the air where her throat had been a second earlier. A rogue — its eyes feral gold, its body twisted and lean from hunger — snarled at her.
And it wasn’t alone.
Two more emerged from the darkness, surrounding her like wolves circling prey. Her pulse thundered.
“Lucian,” she whispered, fear clawing up her throat.
They moved closer.
Her wolf rose within her — untrained, untested, but burning with the instinct to survive. She bared her teeth, her eyes flashing amber.
“Stay back,” she warned, voice trembling but sharp.
They didn’t listen.
The first one lunged. She twisted aside, barely dodging. Its claws grazed her shoulder — pain flared, hot and sharp. The scent of her blood hit the air, and the others snarled in hunger.
Ember stumbled, clutching her arm. Her back hit the marble fountain — trapped.
And then the world split apart.
A roar tore through the night — deep, furious, Alpha.
The rogues froze.
Lucian hit the courtyard like a storm unleashed. His eyes were black, his power a living thing that shook the ground beneath them. He didn’t hesitate.
The first rogue didn’t even have time to turn before Lucian’s hand closed around its throat. Bone cracked. A heartbeat later, the creature hit the ground — dead.
The other two lunged in panic. Lucian moved faster.
He tore through them like they were nothing — claws, fangs, rage made flesh. The sound of it was brutal, wet, final. Within seconds, the courtyard was silent again except for Ember’s ragged breathing and the drip of rain beginning to fall.
Lucian stood among the bodies, chest heaving, blood spattered across his jaw. His eyes still burned black, wild and merciless.
Ember pressed herself against the fountain, trembling. “Lucian—”
He turned at the sound of her voice.
The moment his gaze found her, the fury shifted — from wrath to something darker. He crossed the distance in two strides, his hands gripping her shoulders, inspecting the cut on her arm.
“Who did this?” His voice was a snarl, barely human.
Her breath hitched. “It’s— it’s nothing—”
“Nothing?” he snapped. “You’re bleeding.”
“I can heal—”
He silenced her with a glare. Then, with a growl of frustration, he pressed his palm against the wound. His power flared, warm and electric, sealing the cut in seconds.
She flinched at the contact — at the heat of him, the storm rolling under his skin.
When he looked up, his expression was unreadable. “You should never have been out here.”
“I needed air,” she said quietly. “I can’t breathe inside those walls.”
Lucian’s jaw clenched. “You could’ve been killed.”
“You mean like my family?” she shot back before she could stop herself.
Silence.
The words hung between them — sharp, unforgiving. Lucian’s fingers tightened on her arms, his eyes flashing with pain and fury.
“Don’t,” he said, voice low. “Not now.”
“Then when?” Ember’s voice broke. “When will you stop pretending you’re not the reason I have no one left?”
Lucian’s breath came rough and uneven. “You think I don’t know what I’ve done?”
“Do you?” she whispered. “Because every time I look at you, I see the flames. I see the blood on your hands — and I hate myself for still—”
She stopped, choking on the words. For still wanting him. For still feeling the bond pulse like a heartbeat that refused to die.
Lucian’s expression darkened. He stepped closer, caging her against the fountain, rain sliding down his face. “Don’t finish that sentence.”
“Why?” Her eyes burned. “Because you’ll hear the truth?”
“Because I can’t—” He broke off, his voice raw. “I can’t hear it from you.”
Thunder cracked overhead. Neither moved.
His hand came up, brushing her cheek — rough, trembling. “If they had killed you tonight…” His voice shook with rage. “I would’ve burned the world.”
Her heart stuttered. “Lucian—”
“I told the council they would die if they touched you,” he rasped. “I meant it.”
The bond flared between them — wild, alive, dangerous. She felt his control slipping, the beast beneath his skin clawing to the surface.
“Lucian,” she whispered again, softer this time. “You can’t keep saving me like this.”
He met her gaze, something unreadable in his eyes. “Then stop needing saving.”
She flinched — not from his tone, but from the truth in it. Because she hated how much of her did need him, how much her wolf reached for him even through her pain.
Rain poured harder now, plastering her hair to her face. Lucian didn’t seem to notice. His thumb traced the edge of her jaw, slow and deliberate.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured.
“I’m not afraid,” she lied.
He gave a bitter smile. “You should be.”
His words should’ve chilled her. But all she felt was the heat — the same, burning pull that had haunted her since the night they met.
He leaned in, his voice rough against her ear. “They came for you. From Shadowhill.”
Ember stiffened. “Shadowhill?”
“Those rogues’ kingdom,” he said darkly. “Someone sent them. Someone knew where to find you.”
Her blood ran cold. “You think it’s the Council?”
“I think,” Lucian said slowly, “that everyone who wants you dead just signed their own death warrant.”
The possessiveness in his tone made her heart skip. It wasn’t just protection — it was obsession. Dangerous. Consuming.
She looked up at him through the rain. “You can’t fight the whole world for me.”
“I already am.”
“Lucian—”
He cut her off, his voice low, final. “You’re mine, Ember. The world will learn what that means.”
Before she could respond, he turned and ripped the cloak from his shoulders, wrapping it around her trembling form. His hand lingered at her nape — a silent claim, a warning to any who dared threaten what was his.
Then, without another word, he lifted her into his arms.
Ember gasped, clutching his shirt as he carried her back through the rain. Guards fell to their knees as he passed, heads bowed. None dared speak.
Lucian didn’t stop until he reached her chamber. He kicked the doors open, set her on the bed, and turned to the guards. “No one enters. No one leaves. If anyone steps near this door, you kill them.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The doors shut.
Lucian faced her again. The stormlight cut across his face — half shadow, half fury. His shirt clung to him, soaked in blood and rain, but his eyes… his eyes burned with something more dangerous than rage.
“I told myself I could keep you at a distance,” he said quietly. “That I could control it.”
Her breath hitched. “And can you?”
He stepped closer, his hand sliding up her throat, his thumb resting against her pulse. “Not anymore.”
Her heart thundered under his touch. The bond pulsed again, fierce and relentless.
Lucian’s gaze dropped to her lips — then he forced himself to step back, jaw clenched. “Sleep. I’ll post more guards outside.”
“Lucian—”
He didn’t look at her. “Don’t argue.”
He turned toward the door, but before leaving, his voice dropped to a whisper that sent a shiver down her spine.
“If they come for you again,” he said, “I won’t stop at blood.”
The door closed behind him with a quiet click.
Ember sat in the silence, the echo of his words vibrating through her chest. She should have been afraid — of him, of what he’d done, of what he would do.
But all she felt was the bond burning brighter than ever — binding her to the monster who had destroyed her world.
And maybe, just maybe, to the man who might die to protect her from it.
- Writer
