The heavy silence of the council chamber clung to Seraphina long after it had emptied. The marble pillars still echoed with the memory of Dominic's growl, the nobles' shocked gasps, and the desperate swell of her song when the poison coursed through him. Even now, seated in the vast shadowed hall beside a fire that refused to warm her, she felt the weight of a hundred suspicious eyes.
Her secret was out.
They had seen it—the shimmer of scales across her skin, the silver-blue glow at her throat, the haunting melody that had woven Dominic's life back from the brink. There was no undoing that moment.
Dominic hadn't spoken to her since. He had carried her away from the chamber with a grip as unyielding as iron, his eyes dark, his body trembling with restrained fury. He hadn't released her until he'd locked the chamber doors of his private quarters. Then he'd stormed to the balcony, shirt still half-open from the council, his shoulders heaving with rage and something she couldn't name.
She hadn't tried to speak. Not at first. She had sat quietly, listening to his shallow breathing, waiting. But Dominic was a storm contained in a man's body, and tonight the storm was too near the surface.
"You should have let me die," he finally snarled, voice ragged. His claws had extended unconsciously, scraping the stone railing. "You exposed yourself in front of the entire council. Do you understand what you've done?"
Her chin lifted, though her stomach knotted. "I saved you. That poison was not meant to weaken—it was meant to kill. Would you rather I had sung your dirge instead?"
He whirled, eyes burning amber in the firelight. "Don't twist this, Seraphina. They saw what you are. A creature bred from the sea. An enemy. Do you think they will kneel to a Luna whose very blood is war to them?"
The word enemy sliced through her chest like a blade. She hated the sting of it, hated that it came from his lips even after everything between them.
But she refused to let him see her falter. She rose, her long hair tumbling over her shoulders like liquid night. "And what of you, Dominic? Do you think they didn't already doubt your rule? Do you think Lyanna would have stopped with a single poisoned goblet? My secret might condemn me, yes. But it was your life I chose to save—not theirs."
For a moment, only the crackle of fire filled the air between them. Dominic's chest rose and fell sharply, the muscles of his jaw tight as he stared at her. And then—like a tether snapping—he crossed the room in two strides, his hands gripping her arms with bruising intensity.
"You should not make me feel this way," he whispered hoarsely, his mouth dangerously close to hers. "You should not make me want you even when I should hate you."
Seraphina's breath caught. Her body answered him before her mind could argue, her pulse racing under his hold. "Then stop fighting it," she whispered back.
Something shattered in him then, the wall he had held against her since the day of their forced marriage. His mouth crashed against hers, fierce, punishing, yet desperate—like a man drowning who refused to admit he needed air. Seraphina melted into it, her hands rising to his shoulders, clutching as though he were the anchor she had been denied all her life.
The kiss deepened, and with it, the truth of their bond roared to life. Heat pooled low in her belly, spreading through every nerve, every heartbeat. Dominic lifted her effortlessly, carrying her to the bed, his body heavy with need pressing her down into the furs.
When he entered her, it was with the force of a claim he had denied for too long. She arched, gasping his name, and for the first time, he did not pull back. His lips branded her throat, his hands pinned her to him as if to prove that she belonged nowhere else but in his arms.
It was not tenderness—not at first. It was fire and fury, a storm breaking over them both. But as their bodies moved in a rhythm older than the sea and the moon, something shifted. His mouth softened against hers, his hands slid into her hair, his breath stuttered against her cheek. And Seraphina realized with a shiver that beneath the Alpha's fury lay a man afraid of how much he needed her.
When it was over, he did not immediately rise. He stayed inside her, chest pressed to hers, his forehead resting against her shoulder. His wolf's growl vibrated softly in his chest—not threatening, but protective. Possessive.
"You're mine," he said at last, voice rough and quiet.
Her heart clenched. "And you're mine," she whispered back.
For a fleeting moment, the world outside ceased to exist. No poison. No enemies. No court filled with suspicion. Only them, and the bond that bound them tighter than chains.
---
By dawn, reality returned like a blade pressed to the throat.
The news spread faster than wildfire: the Luna had used forbidden sea-magic in the council chamber. Nobles whispered of enchantments and curses. Some claimed she had bewitched the Alpha into sparing her life when he should have executed her. Others argued her song was proof of power too great to cast aside.
Lyanna fanned those whispers with the elegance of a queen. Clad in silver silk, she moved among the nobles with a smile too sweet to be genuine, her words dripping venom masked as concern.
"Of course the Alpha survived," she purred to one cluster of advisors. "But at what cost? You all saw it—she is not one of us. What if that song enslaves his will? What if she bends his judgment even now?"
"Dominic is strong," one hesitant wolf protested.
Lyanna leaned closer, her eyes gleaming. "Even the strongest can fall to a siren's spell."
---
Dominic heard fragments of the murmurs as he strode through the corridor with Seraphina at his side. Every eye followed them, half in awe, half in fear. He could feel Seraphina stiffen beside him, her chin raised in defiance though her fingers trembled slightly where they brushed her skirts.
He wanted to snarl at them all. He wanted to tear down anyone who dared to doubt her. But he could not ignore the truth: her magic had been revealed, and the pack would not forget it.
They reached the war council chamber again, the same room where she had saved his life. This time, every seat was filled, the air thick with suspicion. Lyanna sat poised in her chair, her silver gown gleaming, her smile sharp as a dagger.
"Alpha Dominic," she began sweetly, rising with a graceful bow, "we are relieved beyond words that you live. Yet questions remain. Questions that must be answered."
Dominic's jaw clenched. "Speak plainly, Lyanna."
Her eyes flicked toward Seraphina, disdain poorly concealed. "What is she, truly? And what spell has she cast over our Alpha that he would take her to his bed rather than to the gallows where she belongs?"
Gasps rippled through the chamber. Seraphina's face burned, but she held her ground, refusing to shrink beneath the venom.
Dominic rose slowly, the power of his Alpha aura filling the chamber, pressing down on every wolf present. His voice was low, dangerous. "Enough."
Lyanna's lips curved. "You would silence me, even as your nobles demand the truth? Tell us, Alpha. Tell us if her power is not dangerous to us all. Or are you already bewitched?"
Before Dominic could respond, Seraphina stepped forward. Her voice was calm, though her heart thundered. "I am no witch. I am what I have always been—a daughter of the sea. I did not choose this bond. Neither did your Alpha. But it is real, and it is stronger than poison, stronger than hate." Her gaze swept the room. "If you see me as a threat, then you should also see me as your greatest shield. Because while you plot to tear me down, there are greater enemies waiting to strike—and they will not hesitate."
Silence followed, thick and uneasy. Some of the nobles looked away, guilt flickering in their eyes. Others leaned closer to Lyanna, whispers beginning anew.
Dominic's hand closed over hers, surprising her. His grip was warm, firm, a silent declaration. "She is mine," he said, his voice echoing like thunder. "And if you doubt her, you doubt me. Be careful, wolves, where you place your loyalty."
The chamber stilled. Even Lyanna's smile faltered for a heartbeat before she recovered, bowing her head.
But Seraphina saw it—the flicker of cold fury in her rival's eyes. Lyanna had lost this round, but she would not stop.
And as the council broke, as the nobles filed out with their doubts unresolved, Seraphina felt the truth settle heavy in her chest.
This bond, this fragile love that had begun to spark between her and Dominic, was not only their salvation.
It was also their greatest vulnerability.