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Chapter 5 - The Savage’s Claim

The morning sun had barely risen when Elara stirred from a restless sleep. Her body was still sore from the previous night—the way Kael's presence had dominated every corner of her consciousness, the way his hands had gripped her as though she were both his salvation and his curse. She hated the shiver that ran down her spine at the memory. Hated the way her traitorous heart responded to the very man she had sworn to resist.

Pushing herself upright, she brushed her hair from her face and took a steadying breath. The chambers Kael had forced her into were unlike anything she had ever seen: a blend of luxury and raw savagery. Wolf pelts lined the stone floor, their earthy scent mingling with the sharp tang of smoke from the dying fire. Weapons adorned the walls—blades, axes, spears—all polished and lethal. It wasn't a room for a wife; it was a room for a warrior preparing for war.

And she had been placed right in the middle of it.

Elara rose, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders, determined not to feel small here. She had survived being bartered like cattle, dragged into this cursed marriage, and claimed by a man the world feared. She would not crumble now.

The heavy doors creaked open before she could even gather her thoughts. Kael stood there, broad-shouldered, clad in black leathers that hugged the ridges of his muscles. His eyes—those silver, feral orbs—were locked on her, unreadable.

"You'll eat," he said, his tone more command than offer.

Elara's spine stiffened. "I'm not hungry."

His jaw flexed, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes. He stepped forward, the room shrinking around his presence. "You'll eat," he repeated, softer this time, but far more threatening.

Something inside Elara snapped. "You think you can order me like one of your warriors? You may be Alpha here, Kael Draven, but I am not your soldier. I am not your possession."

The words hung in the air, sharp and reckless.

Kael's lips curved into something between a smirk and a snarl. In two strides, he was before her, his hand gripping her chin and tilting her face up to his. "Not my possession?" His voice was low, husky, edged with danger. "Tell me then, little human, whose mark is on your neck? Who did the Moon Goddess bind you to?"

Her breath hitched as his thumb brushed the faint bruise at her collarbone—the mark he had left when he'd claimed her. The bond pulsed there, a reminder she could not deny no matter how much she wanted to.

Tears of anger stung her eyes. "I never asked for this. I never asked for you."

Kael froze, the mask of power and savagery faltering for the briefest second. Something flickered in his gaze—pain, raw and fleeting, but there. He released her abruptly, as if her words had burned him.

"Neither did I," he muttered, his voice rough, almost broken. Then he turned away, his shoulders rigid as he walked toward the door.

Elara stood trembling, her chest heaving. She wanted to scream at him, to demand answers—why the Moon Goddess had cursed them, why he was so haunted. But the door slammed shut behind him, and the silence swallowed her questions.

Later that day, the castle stirred with whispers. Elara wandered through the halls, ignoring the wary glances of Kael's pack. To them, she was an intruder, a human forced into their Alpha's world. She could feel their resentment, their distrust, pressing down on her like a storm cloud.

It wasn't long before she found herself in the courtyard, drawn by the clash of steel. Warriors were training, their bodies slick with sweat, movements sharp and brutal. At the center stood Kael, sparring against three men at once. His speed was feral, his strikes precise. He moved like death itself, and his men fell before him with groans of defeat.

Elara couldn't look away. For all her hatred, there was no denying the raw power in him, the sheer magnetism that made her chest tighten with something she refused to name.

But she wasn't the only one watching.

Liora stood at the edge of the field, her emerald eyes glinting with something dangerous. When her gaze met Elara's, a slow smile curved her lips—a smile that promised nothing but trouble.

"You don't belong here," Liora said when she finally approached. Her voice was honeyed venom. "The Savage Alpha needs a Luna who understands his world. Not a fragile little human."

Elara's fists clenched. "Maybe the Savage Alpha should choose his own Luna, instead of letting others fight his battles for him."

Liora's smile faltered, just slightly, but her eyes burned brighter. "Careful, Elara. You don't know the price of challenging me."

Before Elara could reply, Kael's voice thundered across the courtyard. "Enough."

Both women turned. He stood there, sweat gleaming on his skin, his chest heaving from battle. But his eyes—his eyes were on Elara, blazing with possession, warning, and something else she couldn't name.

"Come," he commanded her, extending his hand.

Every instinct screamed at Elara to refuse. To show him she would not be led like a lamb to slaughter. But the bond pulled at her, a force stronger than pride. Slowly, reluctantly, she placed her hand in his.

The courtyard hushed. His warriors watched as Kael drew her close, his voice carrying like a vow.

"She is mine."

The words were savage, final, and absolute.

And though Elara's heart raged, something inside her trembled—not with fear this time, but with the terrifying possibility that being his might destroy her… or save her.

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