LANES POV
The torches outside my hall flickered, the flames shrinking as though the shadows themselves recoiled. My wolves shifted uneasily, hackles raised, but none dared stop her. She glided past them like smoke, as if the world bent around her. Layla, the witch of the forgotten hills.
I had expected her. The air had been trembling with her arrival long before she appeared. Still, I studied her in silence, my hand resting lazily on the arm of my chair as she entered my hall.
"Alpha Lane," her voice was a whisper, thin and sharp, yet it cut through the silence like a blade. "I come with a request."
Witches never "requested." They demanded, bargained, twisted. And yet, she inclined her head slightly, enough to acknowledge my strength. That alone intrigued me.
I leaned forward. "Then speak, witch. What has drawn you into my forest?"
Her eyes glimmered, ancient and tired, but hungry. "The red lotus. I need it."
The words rang in my mind like steel. The red lotus. A flower of blood and fire, said to bloom only in the Northern Mountains, in caverns where even wolves dare not step. The mountains themselves are a graveyard of souls
illusions that trap, beasts large as dragons, whispers that feed on fear. Even the bravest alphas avoided its ridges.
And she wanted me to fetch her a flower.
I smirked, slow and deliberate. "You come to me for this? Surely there are… simpler hands you could send."
"There are no other hands," she answered at once, eyes narrowing. "The mountains devour all but the strongest. You command shadows. You command fear. You will succeed where others die."
The hall was silent but for the crackling torches. My wolves shifted, glancing between us. They were nervous.
"And what," I asked, reclining back in my chair, "would you offer in return for such a favor? Flowers are delicate, witch. I am not."
Layla's lips curved slightly. Not a smile,witches did not smile. A concession, perhaps. "I will give you the ritual you desire."
My eyes narrowed, though my pulse did not betray me. She knew. Of course she knew. The bond had already begun to burn into my veins the moment I looked at him in the arena. Kaelen. Stubborn, proud, furious Kaelen. My fated mate
yet bound to me in hatred rather than desire.
"What ritual?" I asked
"The weaving of two flames into one. To bind breath to breath, thought to thought. To ensure that no decree, no rejection, no divine whim could tear you apart."
A low laugh rumbled in my throat"So, you crawl to me for a flower. And in exchange, you offer me eternity."
Her gaze held steady. "You want him. The red lotus is the price."
The hall seemed smaller with her words lingering in the air. My wolves did not move, barely breathed, as though they too felt the weight of what was being discussed. I tapped my fingers against the carved wood of my chair, considering, savoring the tension.
She was smaller than me, brittle as bone, but power radiated from her all the same.
"You believe me desperate," I murmured. "That I would crawl into the mountains and bleed myself for a flower"
She tilted her head. "Am I wrong?"
The smirk curved my lips again. She could not know how right she was, and yet she would never see me admit it. I thrived in bargains. And this was a bargain worth empires.
"I will fetch your lotus," I said at last, voice. "But hear me, witch
when I return, if you dare cheat me, if you dare twist this ritual into a mockery, your bones will decorate these halls before dawn."
For a long moment, we simply stared at one another
two predators circling, testing the measure of the other. Finally, she inclined her head again, the faintest acknowledgment of respect.
"Then it is agreed," she said softly. "You bring me the red lotus. I give you the soul ties."