Rowena's POV
The Lycan King—the man who murdered my parents—is staring at me like I'm a puzzle he can't solve.
And the mate bond between us is getting stronger with every second.
My wolf should be terrified. We should be running, screaming, dying from fear.
But instead, she's... calm. She presses against my consciousness, whispering one word over and over: Mate. Mate. Mate.
"No," I rasp out loud, wrapping my arms around my naked body. "You can't be my mate. The Moon Goddess wouldn't be that cruel."
Thorne Obsidian's eyes flash from gold to crimson and back again. His Lycan is fighting for control—I can see it in the way his muscles tense, the way his jaw clenches.
"Trust me," he says, his voice rough, "this is the last thing I wanted too."
The words shouldn't hurt. I just got rejected by my first mate an hour ago. But somehow, hearing this powerful Lycan King say he doesn't want me either feels like a second rejection.
The golden thread between us pulses, and I gasp. It's different from the bond with Callister. That one felt warm and gentle. This one is fierce. Demanding. Like fire instead of sunlight.
Thorne takes a step toward me, and I scramble backward.
"Stay away from me," I warn, even though my voice shakes. "You killed my parents. You destroyed my home. You—"
"I know what I did." His voice cuts through mine like a blade. "I remember your mother's face when she begged me to spare your father. I remember the fire. I remember everything."
Pain flashes across his features—real pain, not fake sympathy.
"Then how can you stand there?" I'm crying now, hot tears streaming down my face. "How can you look at me knowing what you took from me?"
"I can't." Thorne runs a hand through his dark hair, and I notice his hand is shaking. "I've carried your parents' deaths for twelve years. Every night, I see them. Every night, I wonder if the intelligence was wrong, if I killed innocents for nothing."
"You did kill innocents!" I scream. The rejection poison is making me brave—or maybe just reckless. "My parents weren't building weapons! They were just living their lives, and you murdered them!"
"I know." His voice drops to barely a whisper. "And now the Moon Goddess has given me a second-chance mate bond with their daughter. She has a twisted sense of humor."
The bond flares again, stronger this time. My wolf whimpers, torn between wanting to attack him and wanting to nuzzle against him.
I hate this. Hate all of it.
"I don't want this bond," I say firmly. "I don't want you as my mate. I'd rather die."
Thorne's eyes narrow. He takes another step closer, and this time I can't move back. My body won't obey. The rejection poison is spreading too fast—I can see the black veins crawling up my arms, across my chest.
"You are dying," Thorne observes, his voice clinical now. "Rejection poison. How long ago were you rejected?"
"An hour. Maybe two." I sway on my feet, suddenly dizzy. "Why does it matter?"
"Because rejection poison doesn't move this fast unless..." He inhales sharply, scenting the air around me. "Unless someone's been poisoning you long before the rejection. Weakening you."
I blink, confused. "What?"
"Your scent is laced with wolfsbane. Old wolfsbane, absorbed over years." Thorne's expression darkens. "Someone's been feeding it to you regularly. It suppressed your wolf, delayed your shift."
The words don't make sense at first. Then I remember—Uncle Dashiell's "vitamins." The ones he gave me every morning for twelve years. "To help you stay healthy," he'd said. "To give your wolf a better chance of emerging."
"My uncle," I whisper. "He gave me vitamins every day. Said they would help me shift."
"They did the opposite." Thorne's hands clench into fists. "Wolfsbane delays shifting in young wolves. And in your case, with Hartwell blood—" He stops abruptly.
"With what blood?"
Thorne studies me carefully. "You don't know, do you? Your uncle never told you."
"Told me what?"
"Your parents weren't just regular werewolves, Rowena. They were Lycan-blooded. The Hartwell line is one of the oldest, most powerful Lycan bloodlines in existence." His eyes bore into mine. "That's why your wolf took so long to emerge. Lycan blood awakens in stages, not all at once like regular wolves."
My legs give out. I collapse onto the forest floor, my mind reeling.
Lycan blood? I have Lycan blood?
"But that means..." I can barely form words. "That means Uncle Dashiell knew. He knew what I was, and he poisoned me to keep my wolf from waking up."
"Yes." Thorne kneels in front of me, bringing himself to my eye level. "Which means your uncle is part of a bigger conspiracy. Someone wanted your bloodline suppressed. Hidden. Maybe even eliminated."
"Why?"
"Because Lycan-blooded females are rare and powerful. They can rule as Queens, not just Lunas. They can challenge kings." His golden eyes hold mine. "Your mother was a Lycan Queen. That's why I was sent to kill her."
The world spins. "What?"
"I received intelligence that your parents were building weapons to exterminate pure Lycans. That they were using their bloodline to create an army." Thorne's voice is bitter. "I led the attack on Hartwell Keep based on that intelligence. But I've never been able to prove the weapons existed. And now, meeting you..." He gestures to the bond between us. "I'm starting to think I was manipulated. Used."
My chest tightens. Not just from the rejection poison, but from the weight of what he's saying.
"So my parents were murdered because someone lied to you?"
"It appears so."
"And my uncle has been poisoning me for twelve years to keep my bloodline from awakening?"
"Yes."
I laugh, but it comes out broken and hysterical. "So I've been betrayed by everyone. Callister rejected me. Uncle Dashiell poisoned me. And you—you killed my parents based on lies."
"Rowena—"
"Don't." I hold up a hand, stopping him. "Just... don't. I can't do this right now. I can't process this."
The black veins have reached my neck now. I can feel the rejection poison wrapping around my heart, squeezing.
Thorne sees it too. His expression shifts from guilty to determined.
"You're dying," he states. "Without a mate bond to anchor you, the rejection poison will kill you by morning."
"Good." I mean it. "I don't want to live in a world where everyone I trusted betrayed me."
"That's the poison talking." Thorne stands and extends his hand. "Come with me. My healer can slow the poison, give you time to think clearly."
"Why would you help me? I'm the daughter of the people you killed."
"Because you're my mate." His voice is rough with emotion. "And because I owe your parents a debt I can never repay. Saving their daughter is the least I can do."
I stare at his outstretched hand. Every instinct screams not to trust him. He's a killer. A monster.
But he's also the only person offering me a way to survive.
My wolf makes the decision for me. She surges forward, and suddenly I'm shifting—bones cracking, silver-white fur sprouting. My small omega wolf stands on shaky legs.
Thorne shifts too, but his form is different. Bigger. His Lycan is massive—black fur, crimson eyes, muscles like steel. He could crush me with one paw.
Instead, he lowers his head, submissive. Offering protection.
My wolf whimpers and collapses against his side. The mate bond hums between us, soothing some of the rejection pain.
Thorne's Lycan rumbles—a deep, protective sound. Then he shifts back to human form and scoops up my wolf body in his arms.
"I'll carry you to the castle," he says quietly. "My healer will help. And then..." He pauses. "Then we figure out who's been lying to both of us. And why."
I should protest. Should fight.
But the rejection poison is too strong. I feel myself fading, my wolf form flickering.
As darkness creeps in at the edges of my vision, I hear Thorne's voice, urgent and commanding.
"Don't you dare die on me, Rowena Hartwell. You survived twelve years of poison. You survived rejection. You'll survive this too."
The last thing I feel before everything goes black is the mate bond wrapping around me like a shield.
And Thorne's arms, holding me like I'm something precious instead of the daughter of his victims.
Then nothing.
When I wake up, I'm not in the forest anymore.
I'm in a bed so soft it feels like clouds. Silk sheets. Stone walls.
And sitting in a chair beside my bed, watching me with those intense golden eyes, is the Lycan King.
"Welcome to Castle Obsidian," Thorne says softly. "We need to talk about keeping you alive."