L
The night was thick with silence, the palace asleep in shadowed reverence.
But Seraphina was not in her chambers.
She moved barefoot through the forest beyond the palace gates, clothed in sheer white silk, untouched by dew or dirt. The trees parted for her without wind. Owls did not hoot. Wolves did not howl.
Even the night itself seemed to kneel before her.
Ahead, the Moon Temple shimmered beneath the full sky—no walls, only stone archways and ancient silver trees that glittered with sacred moss. It was said the Goddess's breath lingered here, woven into the leaves, alive in the air.
And it was here that Seraphina had always come when the world grew too loud.
She stepped into the circle of stone, exhaling softly.
Moonlight poured through the open canopy above and fell directly onto the altar—a slab of ivory marble carved with the sacred sigils of wolfkind.
She knelt.
Not in submission.
But in command.
Her hands touched the stone, warm beneath her fingers. Her heart thudded—steady, controlled—until the moment she whispered:
> "Mother of Wolves… I seek."
The temple answered not with words—but with light.
A soft wind rose. The trees shivered. And then, slowly, moonlight thickened before her—twisting, folding, bending into the faint shape of a woman cloaked in stars.
Not the Moon Goddess.
But an echo.
A remnant of divine power, pulled forth by blood and need.
"Seraphina," the voice said, ancient and layered, as though a thousand wolves whispered at once.
She didn't move.
She simply whispered, "I don't know which path to take."
The figure hovered, moonlight swirling like mist.
> "The kings you draw crave power. But only one… will give you a god."
Her breath caught.
> "A god?" she echoed.
> "Your womb is sacred. It will bear the one who ends the blood war. Or begins a new one."
Seraphina closed her eyes. "I haven't chosen a mate."
> "You will. But he must match you in body, blood… and sacrifice."
Her hands trembled slightly on the altar stone. "I can't love them both."
> "Then don't. Choose the one who bleeds for you. Not because of you."
The vision began to fade—its last echo curling around her like wind.
> "Your time is marked. The silver moon wanes. You must decide… before the next rise."
Then darkness returned.
The wind died.
The temple stilled.
Seraphina rose slowly, eyes burning with divine glow.
She pressed a hand to her stomach—flat, calm, untouched—and yet…
She could feel it.
A flicker of something deep within her. Waiting. Watching.
A destiny already stirring.
And somewhere beyond the trees…
Two kings dreamed of her.
But only one would father the future.
---
Kael hadn't meant to look for her.
He wasn't the kind of man who chased women.
He didn't prowl palace halls in the middle of the night.
He didn't let absence feel like a wound.
But Seraphina wasn't just a woman.
She was everything he'd spent a decade building walls against.
And now—she was gone.
He had entered her wing only to find her chamber empty, the bed untouched, her scent already faint. Her guards hadn't seen her leave. No one had. That meant only one thing:
She'd cloaked herself.
A divine omega trick—ancestral, elusive.
The kind only her bloodline could wield.
Kael's wolf stirred violently inside his chest.
He left the palace without announcement, shifting only the color of his cloak, not his form. He moved through the woods as a shadow, as a storm in human skin, until the trees began to change—older, denser, sacred.
Then he saw it:
The clearing.
And her.
Seraphina stood alone in the Moon Temple, her body bathed in silver. Her white hair shimmered like frost under starlight, her robe slightly open at the front, revealing the bare curve of one collarbone. Her head was bowed, but her posture wasn't submissive.
It was regal. Unshakable.
Untouchable.
Kael felt breathless.
His chest tightened—not with awe, but with need.
He had touched her.
He had tasted her.
And still, she walked the world like she belonged to no one.
> She doesn't, his mind warned. Not yet.
He stepped forward, the leaves crunching once underfoot.
She didn't turn.
"I knew you'd find me," she said softly.
"Did you want me to?" he asked.
"No." She looked over her shoulder, gaze glowing. "But I'm not surprised you did."
Kael entered the circle slowly, reverently.
"This place isn't for me," he murmured, glancing around the sacred stone. "It's for you. And her."
"She answers when I call."
"What did she say?"
Seraphina turned to face him now, fully. Her gown fell loose at her shoulders, but she made no move to tighten it. Moonlight outlined the hollow of her throat, the soft swell of her breasts beneath the thin silk.
"She told me the child I bear will be divine."
Kael's body went still.
"She told me only one of you will give him to me," she added.
He stepped closer—slowly, like approaching fire.
"And what if I said I would give you anything?" His voice was deep, low. "Even my crown. Even my blood."
She stared at him.
Unblinking.
Unmoved.
"Then I'd say you're not ready to be a god's father," she whispered.
That stung deeper than he expected.
Kael's hand lifted. Not to grab her. Not to possess.
But to cup her jaw, gently—thumb brushing along the edge of her bottom lip.
"You don't want obedience," he said, voice hoarse. "You want devotion."
"I want power that doesn't fear me," she replied. "And a king who doesn't ask if he's worthy."
Kael's hand dropped. His chest rose with slow, seething breath.
"I don't ask," he said.
"I know," she murmured, stepping around him. "That's why you're dangerous."
She walked past him, back into the woods.
And Kael, for all his pride and power, didn't stop her.
Not because he didn't want to.
But because—for the first time in his life—
He didn't know if he could.
---
Chapter 18 – The Claim Beneath the Skin
Rhydian had felt her the moment she left the palace.
Not with his eyes.
Not even with his wolf.
But with something deeper—an ache beneath his skin that pulsed whenever she distanced herself.
He'd stood at the edge of the western tower, eyes fixed on the forest where moonlight tangled with mist. He didn't need to ask where she'd gone.
The Moon Temple.
Where her power bloomed.
Where she stood tall like a goddess, untouched.
Where he wasn't.
And yet…
He didn't chase her.
Not tonight.
Instead, he waited until her scent returned.
She passed through the outer gardens, alone, cloaked once again in silence and silver. He didn't step from the shadows until she reached the terrace outside her chamber.
She froze.
Then, calmly, without turning:
"I wondered how long you'd hide there."
Rhydian stepped forward, each movement deliberate.
He wore no crown tonight, no armor. Only loose pants slung low on his hips, chest bare, muscles tensed, golden skin kissed by moonlight.
He looked like a beast out of legend.
Or a man who had stopped trying to pretend he wasn't one.
Seraphina turned.
Her eyes landed on his exposed torso, on the carved ridges of his stomach, the long scar across his left collarbone. He was pure force, barely restrained, with silver irises glowing like wolves in heat.
"You went to the temple," he said.
"Yes."
"What did she tell you?" His voice was rough, deep—like gravel coated in velvet.
"That one of you will give me a god."
Her tone was light, almost teasing.
But Rhydian didn't smile.
He stepped closer.
"The other will fall," she added, watching him.
Still, he didn't flinch. "Let him fall."
She tilted her head. "You assume it isn't you?"
"I don't assume," he growled. "I know."
She took a step toward him, stopping just as the moonlight slid between them.
"And if I told you I kissed him?" she asked.
Rhydian's jaw flexed. "Then I'd say you were trying to make me burn."
"Am I succeeding?"
His eyes darkened.
"Every time you look at him.
Every time you don't choose me.
I burn."
There was no threat in his voice. Just truth.
"I would kill him for you," Rhydian said lowly. "Not out of jealousy. But instinct. Because every cell in my body says you are mine."
He reached out then—not fast, not rough—but with reverence, fingers trailing the edge of her silk sleeve, up the line of her arm to her bare shoulder.
Seraphina didn't pull away.
She didn't speak.
And that silence told him everything.
His hand slid to the back of her neck, warm against her skin.
"You're not like the others," he whispered. "You don't bend. You don't fear me."
"I'm not meant to fear anyone," she breathed.
His forehead pressed to hers. Their lips didn't meet—but the heat of it was there, building.
"You think I want to possess you?" Rhydian said. "I don't."
She blinked, surprised.
"I want to worship you. Break for you. Bleed for you. Because even if you never choose me…" His voice cracked. "I'll still belong to you."
The air between them snapped like tensioned string.
Then Seraphina stepped back, slowly.
Rhydian let her go.
Because unlike the Alpha King… he didn't force.
He waited.
And that made him even more dangerous.