CHAPTER 9
554 Words
The chamber was carved deep into the mountain beneath the Crimson Court—older than the throne, older than the war. Lit by floating crimson flames, the walls pulsed like veins. Ancient symbols glowed beneath Raven’s bare feet, responding to her blood.
Lucien stood shirtless, muscles coiled with fury. Dante wore only ceremonial black robes, chest bare, a dagger tucked into the belt.
And Raven stood between them… in nothing but a sheer crimson veil.
“I feel like prey,” she muttered.
“You are,” Morrigan said, emerging from the darkness. She wore a crown of bone, her robes soaked in wine—or was it blood?
“Explain the ritual,” Lucien snapped.
Morrigan smirked. “Simple. She must be claimed by both of you. Flesh to flesh. Blood to blood. Pain must bind the bond. Pleasure must seal it. Only then will the powers within her awaken.”
“Claimed?” Raven whispered.
“It’s a mating rite,” Dante said grimly. “Enhanced by blood magic. You’ll feel everything.”
Lucien’s jaw flexed. “She’s not ready.”
Raven stepped forward. “I am.”
The queen laughed softly. “She’s braver than you, wolf.”
Raven turned to her mates. “No more lies. No more half-truths. After tonight, I want everything.”
Lucien growled low, possessive. Dante’s eyes darkened with desire.
The queen handed her the ritual blade.
“Choose who cuts you first.”
Raven met Lucien’s eyes. “You.”
His hand trembled as he took the blade, stepping close. “You sure?”
She nodded.
He pressed the edge to her collarbone, slicing shallow. Blood welled. Her mark flared. And he leaned in, licking the wound with reverence.
Raven gasped—heat exploded through her chest, lightning cracking down her spine.
Then Dante stepped forward, took the blade, and dragged it across her thigh.
The pain was sharp—but the moment his lips touched the cut, Raven’s body arched, power bursting through her veins like fire and frost at once.
“Now,” Morrigan intoned. “The claiming.”
Lucien caught her as her knees buckled. He lay her on the altar, breath ragged. “You can stop this.”
“I don’t want to,” she whispered. “I want you.”
Their bodies collided—furious, sacred, primal. Raven’s moans echoed against the stone, power building with every thrust, every bite, every whispered name.
Then Dante joined.
He knelt behind her, his hands on her hips as Lucien kissed her throat. For a moment, Raven thought the world would explode.
And then it did.
Her scream tore through the chamber as her eyes turned black and silver, symbols burning across her skin. The stone altar cracked. The flames surged high. A shockwave flung Morrigan to her knees.
When it was done, Raven hovered inches above the ground—hair floating, eyes glowing, power thrumming in her every heartbeat.
Lucien stared, bloodied and awed.
Dante knelt. “You’ve awakened.”
Raven landed softly, gasping.
The queen approached slowly. “You survived. You are Ascended.”
Raven looked at her hands. Then at her mates.
“I’m not just a girl anymore,” she whispered.
“No,” Morrigan said. “You’re the storm we all feared. And the war begins now.”
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