Chapter Three
1288 Words
Talia woke to the sound of wind clawing against the shutters. The furs tangled around her legs, sticky with sweat, and the scent of s*x still hung in the air like smoke after a fire. Her thighs ached, and between them she was sore. Deeply. Tender in ways she hadn’t expected. Not bruised. Just... used.
Jarek was gone.
His warmth still lingered beside her. The imprint of his body, the twist of the furs where his hand had gripped them, the faint smell of pine and skin. But he wasn’t in the room.
She sat up slowly, pulling the tunic from the floor and shrugging it over her head. Her n*****s were raw; skin scraped faintly from where his stubble had dragged across her chest. Every part of her reminded her of what had happened.
She wasn’t ashamed.
She was changed.
She padded barefoot across the floor, out into the hall. The den was quiet. Wolves didn't live like humans, full of voices and idle noise. The Stonefangs moved in silence, with purpose. They didn't hover.
But she could feel the looks.
The guards outside the door didn’t speak, but their nostrils flared as she passed. They’d smell it on her what she and Jarek had done. The s*x, the claiming. It was primal. Wolves didn’t need to gossip. They sensed.
And now she was marked.
Not officially. Not with teeth.
But still.
She made her way toward the back clearing, past the old bonfire pit where warriors trained and pups played. The pack house loomed behind her like a fortress. Beyond the trees, she saw the outline of the river and followed it down the ridge. She didn’t know where she was going just that her legs needed motion and her head needed air.
Talia didn’t expect to find anyone near the water.
She definitely didn’t expect him.
Lucien stood waist-deep in the river, shirtless, his back slick with water and moonlight. He turned as if he’d heard her heartbeat, not her footsteps.
“Talia,” he said, low.
She stopped.
He walked out of the water like a wolf risen from myth. Hair wet, clinging to his temples. Eyes sharp, golden. No cruelty in them just curiosity. And something else. Something she couldn’t place.
She remembered the first time she saw him, days ago, when he’d escorted her into camp. He hadn’t said much. Just watched her. Not with the same hunger Jarek had but not with indifference either.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, walking toward her.
“Something like that.”
His gaze dropped to her legs. To the bite on her neck. The way she winced a little when she shifted weight from one foot to the other.
“You didn’t run,” he said.
“I didn’t want to.”
His brows lifted, just slightly. “I wouldn’t have guessed that yesterday.”
“Neither would I.”
Lucien stepped closer, slowly. Respectfully. But his presence loomed. Not physically he wasn’t as broad as Jarek but his energy was harder to ignore. It was clean. Controlled. Like a storm held in a cage.
He looked at her for a long time.
“I won’t lie,” he said. “I smelled it. I know what he did to you.”
Talia held his gaze. “Do you want to shame me for it?”
“No.” He stepped closer. “I want to know if you liked it.”
She didn't answer.
Lucien’s voice dropped. “You did.”
She swallowed.
He took another step, close enough that she could feel the heat rising from his skin. His hand lifted, but he didn’t touch her.
“I’m not going to take what isn’t offered,” he said. “I’m not him.”
Her breath caught. “And if I offered?”
Lucien’s expression tightened like he hadn’t expected that answer.
“Then I’d take,” he said.
She didn’t move.
He reached for her slowly, brushing her cheek with the backs of his fingers. It was a soft touch. Gentle. Not demanding. Not violent.
Just there.
She leaned into it before she meant to.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked.
She didn’t.
His hand slid down to her jaw, then her throat. She felt the faintest pressure, like he was testing her pulse.
“I can smell you,” he murmured. “You’re wet again.”
She exhaled shakily.
Lucien’s mouth brushed hers. Not a kiss. Just a hint. Just a promise.
“You don’t belong to him yet,” he said.
“I know.”
“Then let me show you what the rest of us are capable of.”
She nodded.
Lucien’s hand slid down her front, under the tunic. He didn’t yank it up just slid his fingers between her thighs. She was soaked. His breath hitched when he felt it.
“I thought so,” he whispered.
He rubbed her c**t in slow, even circles. No pressure. No rush. Just enough to make her knees buckle. She clung to him, gripping his shoulders as he worked her gently, letting her fall apart against his chest.
“I’m not here to fight him for you,” Lucien said. “But I won’t pretend I don’t want you.”
She moaned.
“You’ll have to decide,” he added.
His fingers slid inside her, two at once, deep and slow. She cried out.
“I want you to come on my hand,” he said. “Right here. Right now.”
She did. A sharp, sudden release that made her clench hard around his fingers. He groaned softly, as if it pleased him more than it should have.
When he pulled his fingers out, he sucked them clean.
“You taste like need,” he murmured.
She stared at him, breathless.
He stepped back, leaving her alone on the riverbank, legs shaking.
“I won’t chase you,” he said. “But if you come back I’ll finish what I started.”
Then he was gone.
By the time she made it back to the den, Jarek was waiting.
He sat on the edge of the bed, shirtless, arms resting on his knees, head down. He looked up when she entered.
“You were gone.”
“I went walking.”
His eyes narrowed. “You saw Lucien.”
She didn’t lie. “Yes.”
He stood. Slowly.
“What did he do?”
She held his gaze. “What I let him.”
The room went still.
Jarek stepped toward her. “Did he f**k you?”
“No.”
“Did he touch you?”
“Yes.”
His jaw clenched. “You liked it?”
She didn’t answer.
He grabbed her wrist not rough, but tight.
“Look at me,” he said.
She did.
“You’re mine,” he growled.
“You haven’t claimed me.”
“Yet.”
He pulled her against him, slammed her back against the wall. She gasped, but didn’t resist.
“You want to see what happens when you test me?”
She swallowed hard.
Jarek dropped to his knees.
Ripped the tunic up.
And put his mouth on her again hard, fast, punishing.
She cried out, loud, her hands slamming against the wall as he devoured her like he was erasing someone else’s scent. His tongue worked her mercilessly, and her legs shook. He added fingers, curling them just right, until she shattered.
He didn’t stop.
She begged.
He made her come again.
Only then did he rise, his mouth wet with her.
“You don’t need Lucien,” he said.
She didn’t argue.
Because right now right here
She couldn’t remember her own name.
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