Warmth.
That was the first thing I felt.
Not the kind that came from the sun or a blanket. This warmth pulsed. Ancient. Steady. Like the thrum of a deep drum.
I blinked slowly, eyes adjusting to dim light. The scent hit me first — leather, pine, smoke... and something wilder, something undeniably male. I sucked in a shaky breath, and my wolf stirred sharply.
We knew that scent.
Lucien.
I was no longer in the woods.
Soft sheets were beneath me. Heavy furs pulled over my chest. Firelight flickered against stone walls. The room was grand but minimal — a warrior's den, not a lover's bed.
And sitting near the window, his back to me, was the Lycan King.
Lucien Drax.
He turned before I could pretend to sleep again.
"I thought you might not wake up," he said. His voice was low, smooth, and deeper than I remembered — or maybe I'd just never truly heard it before.
I sat up too quickly and winced.
Pain bloomed in my belly. I instinctively curled a hand around it.
His eyes followed the movement.
"You're hurt," he said, standing. He moved slowly, as if careful not to startle me. "You passed out at the edge of my territory. You were bleeding. Dehydrated. Cold."
I couldn't look at him.
Not yet.
I still remembered the cell. His hand on my face. The silent way he'd inhaled my scent like he owned me — or was trying to decide whether to.
"You brought me here?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Why?"
He didn't answer right away.
Instead, he sat on the edge of the bed. Not close. But close enough that my skin tingled.
"I remember your scent," he said. "From that night. I didn't know what Damien was doing… I was told she was a gift. A breeder. Drugged. Silent. Disposable."
My throat tightened.
"You didn't touch me," I said, half statement, half question.
He looked at me.
"No. I couldn't." He paused. "I knew something was wrong. But Damien's pack is dangerous to question. I left the cell. I ordered my guards to do nothing more."
I watched him, searching for a lie.
But his expression was unreadable — carved from stone, jaw tense, eyes haunted.
"I didn't hurt you," he said again, softer this time.
I nodded slowly.
But the truth was, the damage was done. Not from him — from the system we were both caught in. I had no power. No protection. Only this unborn child and a fading bond to a mate who hated me.
"Why am I still alive?" I whispered.
He didn't flinch.
"Because you carry something that doesn't belong to Damien."
I swallowed. "You know?"
"I can smell it," he said. "The change in your body. Your hormones. The bond doesn't lie." He stood again, running a hand through his black hair. "And I felt it in the woods. When I touched you."
I flushed. My wolf stirred, uneasy.
He was right. When he'd picked me up, when his skin brushed mine, my heart had skipped. Not from fear — from instinct. From something deeper. Older.
He was not my mate. At least, not by declaration.
But our wolves were paying attention.
"Is it yours?" I asked finally, voice barely above a whisper.
He froze.
Then nodded once. "I believe so."
Silence wrapped around us.
I clutched the blanket tighter, suddenly aware of the heat between us, of the way his scent curled in my lungs like a drug. My wolf didn't fear him. She... leaned toward him.
I hated that.
"You should have left me there," I said. "You don't owe me anything."
"That's where you're wrong."
He walked toward the fire and picked up a kettle. Poured tea into a metal cup. His movements were slow, thoughtful.
"You were used as a pawn between two alphas," he said. "And now you carry my heir. That makes you very important, Celia."
"Don't say that," I snapped, the name tasting too intimate on his tongue. "I don't want to be important. I just want to disappear."
He returned with the cup. Offered it.
I hesitated — then took it. Our fingers brushed. My breath caught.
"There are people who will kill you for that child," he said. "Damien among them."
I looked up sharply.
"I'll leave before they find out."
"You won't get far."
"I have to try."
His jaw clenched. He stepped back and paced once, then turned to face me again.
"I'm offering protection. You'll stay here, in my territory. You'll be safe."
"I don't need—"
"—And when the time comes," he cut in, "I'll claim the child."
I stiffened.
"Claim?" My voice was ice. "You think this is about territory? About heirs?"
His eyes burned golden.
"It's about survival. The packs are shifting. War is coming. That baby is the last thing connecting me to Damien's inner circle — and the first thing that might break his hold on it."
"I'm not a pawn," I said through gritted teeth.
"No," he agreed. "You're the mother of a future Alpha. And you need to start acting like it."
I stood. Or tried to.
My legs wobbled. Lucien caught me.
And for one second — one heartbeat — I was in his arms.
Tall. Solid. Warm.
His scent hit me again, and I hated that it felt… right.
Our eyes locked.
I felt it.
The pull.
Not a mating bond.
Something else.
Something dangerous.
His hand slid to the small of my back.
And I almost leaned in.
Almost.
But I pulled away first.
"I'm not yours," I whispered.
His jaw tensed. "I didn't say you were."
I looked down at my stomach.
But someone's, I thought.
Whether I liked it or not.