The fire burned low, shadows flickering across the walls, and Eila's breath came ragged as both twins hovered dangerously close—too close. Lukas's fingers brushed along her jaw, tilting her face up, while Zois's palm rested against her waist, possessive and firm.
She couldn't bear the weight of the silence anymore. "Then… then mark me," she whispered, the words spilling before she could stop herself. Her throat was dry, her wolf whimpering with need, but her voice trembled with truth. "If you both want me—then claim me."
The air shattered.
Lukas froze, his chest rising and falling as though she had plunged a blade into him. His lips parted, eyes burning with hunger and conflict. Zois cursed under his breath, forehead pressing briefly to hers like he needed her closeness but hated himself for it.
"Eila…" Lukas's voice cracked into a growl. "Do you even realize what you're asking? Do you know what it means—here, now?"
"I know," she said, desperate. "I'm yours—both of you. I don't care who sees or what they say. Just—stop making me wait."
Her wolf howled inside, clawing for release, for permanence, for the bond that would end this gnawing ache.
Zois's grip tightened, dragging her flush against his chest. His lips skimmed her cheek, then her throat—so close to the place where his mark would burn into her. She arched, a helpless sound escaping her.
For one unbearable second, she thought he'd do it. That sharp flash of teeth grazed her skin, and she gasped—ready.
But then he wrenched away with a snarl, slamming his fist against the mantel instead. Sparks leapt from the fire.
"No." His eyes burned silver-bright, his control hanging by a thread. "Not tonight. Not like this. The Alpha. The Council. Leonard. The Veil. Everything we've worked for—" He broke off, chest heaving.
Lukas looked wrecked, torn between fury and relief. "If we mark you now, little wolf, we don't just claim you. We declare war."
Her heart fractured, tears brimming, but before despair could consume her, Lukas seized her chin and kissed her.
Not soft. Not tentative. A storm breaking.
Her breath hitched as Zois came back too, their touches overlapping, hands roaming, lips claiming every inch they dared without biting. Heat surged through her, her body trembling under the twin assault of devotion and hunger. They didn't mark her, but they possessed her all the same—skin against skin, whispered vows against her ear, bodies tangling until she forgot where one ended and the other began.
The night burned with passion. They stopped only when the risk of losing control grew too sharp. Still, in their arms, Eila felt both claimed and denied, whole and shattered all at once.
But she wasn't truly alone.
From the corner of the shadows, unseen, Valeria lingered—her eyes gleaming like a predator's. Her form shimmered faintly, almost bleeding into Eila's silhouette as she watched.
She imagined herself in that bed, their hands on her, their lips whispering against her skin. Her breaths grew ragged, her fingers moving restlessly over her phantom body, mirroring every touch Eila received.
Her desire was dark and dangerous—wanting not just their passion but Eila's very place, her destiny.
In her twisted mind, she was already slipping beneath Eila's skin, ready for the moment when the veil between them thinned enough to let her replace her.
And when that moment came… she would not let them stop at restraint.