The club was dark and pulsing with music, but Lucien only heard the thrum of Sera's heartbeat.
She sat across from him in the private rooftop lounge—legs crossed, lips parted, her flushed skin still marked by the ghost of their last touch. The city glittered around them, but it was her that held the night captive.
"You're looking at me like you want to devour me," she whispered, her voice husky from their earlier argument—still raw, but softened now with confusion, desire… and fear.
Lucien leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. The silk of his shirt stretched across his chest, still unbuttoned just enough to distract her.
"I always want to devour you," he said. "That's never going to change."
Her breath hitched.
But she didn't pull away.
"I should hate you," she said. "After everything I learned tonight. After everything your family did to mine."
Lucien's golden eyes darkened.
"You don't," he said.
Her silence was answer enough.
The bond between them shimmered, tugging at her soul like a tether of smoke and heat. She wanted to resist it. To run. But running had never stopped the pull. Not even when she'd tried to silence it with tears, rage, or denial.
"You want the truth, Sera?" he asked, voice low.
She nodded, unable to speak.
Lucien rose slowly, the muscles in his body rippling like restrained power. He crossed to her and cupped her face, brushing his thumb along her jaw.
"I never asked for a mate," he said. "But then you crashed into my life like fire, and I couldn't breathe without tasting smoke. You were light in a world I'd already surrendered to the dark."
Her eyes filled with tears—but not from pain. From everything she couldn't say.
"I didn't hide the past to protect my name," he continued. "I did it because I knew if you remembered who you were—what your bloodline meant—you'd leave. And I didn't think I'd survive that."
He bent, brushing his lips against her neck.
"I need you, Sera. Not just your body. Your mind. Your fire. Your rage."
Her hands gripped his shirt, pulling him closer as heat pulsed between them.
"You're still keeping something from me," she whispered.
He stilled.
The wind picked up, whispering through the city's bones.
Lucien didn't answer.
That silence told her everything.
There was more.
And if she stayed… she'd learn it.
But she'd also lose more of herself to him.
To this.
To the wolf.
Hours Later
They lay entangled on black silk sheets in his penthouse, the city sprawling beneath them like prey.
Lucien watched her sleep—lips parted, chest rising slowly, curves tangled in shadows and moonlight.
But his mind wasn't at peace.
Because he'd felt it earlier.
A presence.
Someone—or something—was watching her.
And he knew exactly who.
Across the River
In the industrial ruins of the old city, a wolf stood on two legs, wrapped in shadow and steel.
Veylor.
Sera's bloodline protector. Lucien's oldest rival.
He'd felt the shift too.
And unlike Lucien, he wasn't conflicted.
He was preparing for war.
"She remembers," Veylor whispered to the night. "And she's his now."
A beat passed.
Then a slow, cruel smile.
"Not for long."