Chapter Six
Saphira's POV
No one had ever fought for me before. Not like this.
Zade had once claimed me with his mark, with pretty words and promises whispered in the shadows. But when pride and politics demanded it, he had tossed me away like broken glass. Not a scratch on his skin had ever been spilt for me. Not once had he stood between me and danger.
But tonight…
Kieran had stood.
He had faced Zade with fire in his eyes and blood on his claws. He had torn through the night like it belonged to him, like nothing,not even death,could take me from him. And then he had spoken the words I never imagined I would hear, not from him, not from anyone.
"She is mine."
The memory sent a shiver through me. His voice had cut deeper than any blade, striking where my heart had once been hollow. Even now, standing in the quiet aftermath, the echo still lived in my chest.
And me? While he bled and fought, I had hidden like a coward in the bathroom, clutching a washbowl and towel like they could shield me. I had prayed into the silence, trembling with every howl, every clash of steel outside.
When the chaos stilled, when the silence fell heavy, I couldn't take it anymore.
The door creaked.
"Kieran?" My voice broke as I rushed out, the bowl shaking in my hands. Water sloshed against the rim.
He filled the doorway.
Blood streaked his jaw, a gash cut across his collarbone, and his shirt hung in torn pieces. His aura was still there, heavy, feral, Alpha power clinging to him like smoke,but his shoulders sagged. His breaths were sharp, ragged.
My heart squeezed. Relief, fear, something more,I couldn't separate them.
"You're wounded," I blurted, my voice sharper than intended. "Sit down. Let me clean your wounds."
His golden eyes narrowed, that familiar scowl pulling at his bruised face. "You shouldn't be doing this."
"You shouldn't be dripping blood across the floor," I snapped back, dropping the bowl onto the table. My hands shook, but I forced them still. "Sit. Please."
For a moment, he just stared, unreadable, like he was deciding whether to ignore me. But then, slowly, he moved to the chair by the window and sat, his movements taut with exhaustion.
A shaky breath escaped me. "Good."
I wrung the towel, water dripping down my wrist, before kneeling in front of him. Up close, the sight of him unravelled me. Muscles corded with strength, blood streaking across bronze skin, eyes sharp even in his weariness. Dangerous. Untouchable. And yet,for the first time,reachable.
"Don't stare," he muttered.
"I'm not," I lied, lowering the towel to his jaw. "Hold still."
The cloth pressed against his cut. He hissed, jaw tightening.
"Careful," he growled.
"You're the one who decided to fight half a pack," I murmured, dabbing gently. "Don't blame me for the sting."
His lips twitched, almost a smirk. "Fiery tonight."
"Don't talk," I warned, though my cheeks warmed. My fingers brushed his stubble as I steadied his chin. His heat radiated into my palm, grounding me and unravelling me all at once.
Then his eyes caught mine.
The air shifted.
Golden fire locked on me, and I couldn't move. His gaze burned, sharp and unrelenting, but beneath it… something softer. My breath stuttered, my heart beating loud enough that I swore he heard it.
"You're staring," I whispered, my voice trembling.
"So are you," he murmured back. His words wrapped around me, low and dangerous, but almost tender.
The towel slipped, brushing the corner of his mouth. His lips parted just slightly, and my hand froze. His breath ghosted over my fingers, warm, steady, and far too intimate.
"You're too close," he said, though it sounded more like a warning to himself.
"Then move back," I whispered.
But he didn't.
Instead, his hand rose, sudden and strong, closing gently around my wrist. Sparks shot up my arm, fierce and electric.
"Saphira." My name rolled from his tongue like it was sacred. His thumb brushed my pulse, and I couldn't breathe.
"Don't say my name like that," I whispered, though the plea was weak, trembling.
"Like what?" His eyes glinted, heat simmering there. "Like you're mine?"
I gasped, pulling back slightly, but his grip held,not cruel, not harsh, but steady.
"You can't say things like that," I managed, my throat tight. "Not after everything."
His jaw flexed. "After everything is why I'm saying it."
The weight of his words pressed down on me, stealing my breath.
My body swayed forward, lips parting before I realized what I was doing. The world fell away,just his eyes, his heartbeat, his breath against mine.
Then I tore my gaze down, ripping my hand free. "You need rest," I said quickly, trembling. "Not… this."
But my lips burned with the ghost of what almost happened.
Kieran leaned back, eyes never leaving mine. "You think cleaning my wounds makes you safe from me?"
I shook my head, wringing the towel just to keep from shaking. "No. I think it makes you real."
Something cracked in his expression. The mask slipped. Vulnerability bled through, raw and jagged.
I pressed the towel to his collarbone, softer now. "You scared me," I whispered. "When I thought you wouldn't come back."
His hand shot up again, pressing mine flat against his chest. His heart pounded under my palm, strong and unyielding.
"You hear that?" he asked, voice low.
"Yes," I breathed. "Your heartbeat."
"You'll hear it as long as I live, little wolf," he said, his eyes boring into mine. "Because nothing touches you while I breathe."
I swallowed hard, my chest aching. "Why are you saying this?"
"Because you need to know." His voice was fierce, unshakable. "Because Zade isn't taking you. Because whether you want me or not… fate already chose."
My throat tightened. His words should have been a command, but they weren't. They were a vow.
"Stop," I whispered, tears threatening. "Don't give me hope."
His gaze softened, just for a heartbeat. "I'm not giving you hope, Saphira. I'm giving you the truth."
For one reckless second, I wanted to believe him. To believe that maybe I wasn't just a contract.
Our gazes tangled again, his eyes dipping once more to my lips. The sparks were unbearable, my chest aching, my body leaning forward without permission.
"Kieran…" I whispered, the sound of his name breaking me.
He leaned in slightly, so close I could feel the heat of his breath. "Say it again."
"What?"
"My name. Say it."
"Kieran," I breathed, my lips trembling.
His eyes darkened, hunger and something more flashing there. His hand slid from my wrist to my jaw, tilting it gently.
The world shrank to just us.
And then
The door slammed open.
"Your Majesty!" Lucas's voice cut like a blade. He strode in, Marcus behind him. "The perimeter is secured. Zade's pack has fled."
I jerked back, cheeks flaming, my hand slipping from Kieran's chest.
Kieran's mask returned instantly,the King again, cold, unreadable. "Good. Double the patrols."
Beta Lucas bowed, his eyes flicking briefly to me. But he said nothing more, retreating with Marcus.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
I wrung the towel again, my voice barely steady. "I should… clean the rest of your wounds."
Kieran's gaze lingered on me, unreadable, before curving into the faintest, most dangerous smile.
"Then finish what you started, little wolf."
And my heart skipped wildly because I knew we weren't just talking about wounds anymore.