The Thornwood didn't just whisper anymore; it howled.
A gale, sharp with the scent of pine and decay, ripped through the ancient trees, tugging at Seraphina's cloak as if trying to pull her into the shadows. She stood at the forest's edge, the boundary between her world and the wild, the mark on her collarbone a frantic, painful drumbeat against her bones. Something was coming. Something that made the very air taste of ozone and animal musk.
She didn't know how she knew. The knowledge was primal, a vibration in the curse that linked her to the land. It just was.
Behind her, her three guardians formed a living bulwark. Kael and Thorne stood like statues hewn from shadow and stone, their silence more threatening than any shout. Lucien leaned against a gnarled oak, arms crossed, his usual smirk replaced by a sharp, calculating focus. The usual tension between them was forgotten, swallowed by the thicker, more dangerous charge in the atmosphere.
Then the ground trembled. Not a shake, but a deep, visceral thrum that traveled up through the soles of her boots.
A blur of raw power shot through the undergrowth—fast, low to the ground, more a force of nature than a man. The royal guards flanking her tensed, weapons rising, but Seraphina's voice cut through the wind, sharp and clear.
"Wait."
The blur slowed. Coalesced. Rose.
A man emerged from the dappled shadows of the wood. He was tall, bare-chested despite the cold, his skin a canvas of dirt, old blood, and scars that spoke of countless battles. Corded muscle shifted with every breath. His eyes were the color of molten gold, holding a feral light that was utterly untamed. His dark hair was a wild, tangled mane. He didn't look like he had arrived; he looked like the forest had given him form.
Eryx.
He didn't bow. Didn't offer a greeting. He just stared at her, his gaze a physical weight, stripping away her title, her gown, her composure, seeing only the raw, cursed heart of her.
Seraphina forced her spine straighter, meeting that predatory stare. "You're late."
Eryx's nostrils flared as he sniffed the air, a purely animalistic gesture. "You smell different," he rasped, his voice like gravel and growl.
She blinked, thrown. "Excuse me?"
"Like fire," he said, his molten eyes flicking to Lucien. "And shadow." His gaze landed on Kael. "And stone." Finally, he looked at Thorne. "Their scents are all over you. You're wrapped in them."
Her pulse hammered against her ribs, a trapped bird. "You've met the others."
Eryx's lips peeled back into a sharp, feral grin. "I've tasted their trails on the wind."
Lucien pushed off from the tree with a scoff. "Charming. Do you also mark your territory?"
Kael took a single, deliberate step forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "Watch your tongue, beast."
Eryx didn't flinch, his grin only widening to show a hint of very white, very sharp canines. "Or what, shadow? You'll glare me to death? I've faced things in the deep woods that would make your stoic heart falter."
Thorne moved then, a silent, immovable mountain placing himself between the two men, his sheer presence a command for peace.
Seraphina's voice rang out, laced with a royal authority she had to claw from the depths of her fear. "Enough!"
Eryx turned his full, unnerving attention back to her. "You summoned me."
"I summoned guardians," she corrected, her chin high.
"I'm not a guardian," he said, the words a low promise. "I'm a weapon. Forged in the Thornwood's heart."
She met his blazing gaze, a spark of her own defiance igniting. "Then I'll use you, weapon."
Eryx's grin was a flash of wild triumph. "Careful, Princess. I bite."
---
Later, drawn by an inexplicable pull, she found him in the royal stables. He was crouched in a bed of straw, not tending a horse, but a great, grey wolf with a deep gash on its flank. His hands, which looked capable of tearing a man apart, were impossibly gentle, smearing a poultice of crushed herbs onto the wound. He spoke in low, guttural tones, and the wild creature lay still, whining softly but not fleeing.
Seraphina watched from the shadows, her mind reeling. He was chaos and contradiction wrapped in skin.
"You're not what I expected," she admitted, her voice soft in the hay-scented quiet.
Eryx didn't look up from his work. "Most aren't."
She stepped closer, the hem of her dress brushing the straw. "You can shift? Truly?"
He gave a single, sharp nod. "Beast. Bird. Smoke."
"Smoke?" The question was out before she could stop it.
He finally looked at her, his molten gold eyes capturing hers. "When I'm angry. Or when I hunt."
She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. "And what are you now?"
Eryx rose to his full height, his presence dominating the stable. He walked toward her, each step a predator's stalk. "Curious."
He stopped so close she could feel the heat radiating from his bare skin. "You kissed the flame," he murmured, his gaze dropping to her lips. "You touched the stone. You let the shadow in." His voice was a low, intimate rumble. "But you haven't tasted the wild yet."
She stood her ground, but her heart was a frantic drum against her ribs. She had no answer.
Eryx reached out, his calloused fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from her jaw. The touch was startlingly gentle, yet it sent a jolt of pure lightning through her. He leaned in, his lips grazing the shell of her ear, his breath hot. "Want to?"
She jerked back as if scalded. "You're dangerous."
Eryx's smile was slow, knowing, and utterly devastating. "So are you, Princess. The Thorn in your blood sings a song of ruin. We are the same."
---
That night, the curse declared war.
It came without warning. One moment she was pacing her chambers, and the next, a white-hot agony lanced through her, dropping her to her knees. The mark didn't just burn; it felt like it was tearing her very soul in two, the thorn-shaped brand searing so brightly it lit the room in a hellish crimson glow. She cried out, a raw, guttural sound, but the pain was a vacuum, swallowing her voice. Her vision swam, darkness creeping at the edges.
Then the window exploded inwards.
Not opened. Shattered.
A whirlwind of smoke and shadow burst through, coalescing into Eryx mid-leap. He landed in a crouch beside her, his eyes glowing like embers in the dark, his body humming with a feral energy. His hands, now more like claws, gripped her shoulders.
"Breathe," he growled, the command echoing in the small space.
She gasped, tears of pain streaming down her face. "It—hurts—"
"I know." His voice was rough with a shared understanding. He pressed his forehead to hers, a gesture that was both intimate and dominant. "Let me take it."
She didn't understand what he meant. How could he take her pain? But the alternative was oblivion. She gave a weak, desperate nod.
And then he kissed her.
It wasn't gentle like Thorne's. It wasn't a question like Kael's. It wasn't a seduction like Lucien's.
It was a claim. A wild, desperate fusion.
His lips were fire, his touch was thunder. He poured the wildness of the forest into her, and her body arched off the floor, not in pain, but in a shocking, answering surge of raw, untamable heat. The excruciating burn of the curse melted, transforming into a different, all-consuming inferno. She clung to him, her fingers digging into the hard muscle of his arms, drowning in the storm of sensation. He growled against her skin, a sound that was purely animal, his hands mapping her body as if memorizing its terrain, his breath ragged in her ear.
Then, just as suddenly, he tore his mouth from hers, pulling back.
The mark's light dimmed to a dull, manageable throb.
Seraphina collapsed against his chest, trembling violently, her body humming with the aftermath of pain and a shocking, primal pleasure.
Eryx held her close, his arms a cage of safety and possession. "You're mine now," he whispered into her hair, the words not a question, but a fact carved into the night.
She didn't argue. She couldn't.
Because a wild, awakened part of her, the part that was the Thorn's true daughter, roared in triumphant agreement.
---