The echoes of battle still lingered in the castle's air, as though the stones themselves had soaked in the blood, fear, and fury that Lyanna's betrayal had unleashed. Outside, the howls of wolves carried faintly across the mountain ridges, mournful and fractured, as the pack tried to make sense of what had happened. Inside, beneath the gilded arches of the council chamber, the silence was far more dangerous than screams.
Every elder, noble, and warrior lord had gathered. Their faces were masks of suspicion, awe, or quiet rage, and all their eyes cut again and again to Seraphina.
She sat beside Dominic at the high seat, her spine straight, her silver-white hair falling in perfect waves, but her fingers twisted the hem of her gown in secret. Her voice—the song she had unleashed—still haunted them all. The song that had shattered the poison in Dominic's veins, the song that had healed his wounds, the song that had stripped away every lie she had hidden.
A mermaid. An enemy's daughter. A mate no wolf had wanted for their Alpha.
And yet the one who had saved him.
"She bewitched us," one elder spat, slamming his palm against the oak table. "You all felt it—your blood rushing, your hearts bending to her command. That was not healing, that was enchantment!"
A rumble of agreement stirred. Another noble bared his teeth, claws pressing against the table. "She is dangerous. If she could turn her magic on us, how many would follow her song against their will? How many would fall?"
Seraphina forced her chin higher, though her throat burned. She had expected this. She had expected their doubt. But the wounds of it still cut deep.
Before she could speak, Dominic's voice crashed through the chamber like thunder.
"Enough."
The word silenced them all. The Alpha's eyes—those storm-dark, merciless eyes—swept over his council. His body was still pale from the poison, still healing, but the power radiating from him was undeniable. He leaned forward, his claws biting into the arm of his chair.
"My mate saved me. She saved this court. Without her, Lyanna's blade would have ended me, and you would all be bowing to a usurper. Do not mistake your fear for wisdom."
A tense growl rippled through the chamber, but no one dared speak.
Seraphina's heart pounded. He had defended her. Fiercely. Openly. It was the first time he had not treated her as a burden, as a wife forced upon him.
But even as his words shielded her, she felt the hesitation beneath them. He believed in her power, yes. He owed her his life. But did he trust her? Did he love her?
The council broke into fractured arguments, voices colliding like storms. Some called her a blessing, a sign the Moon Goddess had chosen to unite wolf and sea. Others hissed that she was a curse, proof of weakness that the enemy would exploit.
Through it all, Dominic stood like stone, shutting down each challenge with a growl, until finally he slammed his fist against the table so hard the wood cracked.
"This debate ends now. She is mine. She is your Luna. You will respect her, or you will answer to me."
The chamber fell silent. But silence was not obedience. Seraphina could feel the hatred still simmering in the air, the hunger for her failure.
---
That night, when the chamber emptied and the torches burned low, Seraphina stood by the window of their private chambers, staring out at the black sweep of forest.
"They hate me," she whispered.
Dominic stripped off his ceremonial cloak, his movements sharp with restrained fury. "They fear what they don't understand. They always have."
She turned to him, her voice trembling. "And what about you? Do you fear me too?"
His eyes snapped to hers, blazing. "I fear nothing."
But his jaw was tight, his fists still clenched. She saw it, the truth he would never say. He feared the bond. He feared how much he already needed her.
She crossed the room slowly, the silk of her gown whispering across the floor. When she reached him, she lifted her hand and pressed it to his chest. His heart thundered beneath her palm, wild and unsteady.
"You defend me before them," she said softly. "But when we are alone, you hold yourself back. You kiss me as though I'm both your salvation and your ruin. Which am I, Dominic?"
His breath shuddered. His hand closed around her wrist, holding her against him, but not pushing her away.
"You are mine," he growled, voice rough as gravel. "That is all that matters."
Her pulse quickened. "Then treat me as yours."
For a heartbeat, he froze. Then the restraint snapped.
Dominic's mouth crashed onto hers, hungry and demanding, as though he had been starved of her. He lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around his waist, and carried her to the bed. The kiss deepened, his teeth grazing her lip, her fingers tangling in his hair as heat flared between them.
The world outside—the court, the betrayal, the whispers—vanished. There was only this: the fire of his touch, the way her body ached for his.
He laid her down against the sheets, his body pressing her into the softness, and for the first time there was no hesitation in him. No restraint. His hands claimed her, his mouth trailed fire down her throat, her shoulder, her chest. Every touch was possession, every kiss a war cry.
"Dominic—" she gasped, her body arching beneath his.
He growled against her skin, voice low and rough. "Say it again."
She whispered his name, again and again, until it broke into a moan.
The bond roared between them, a tide of heat and lightning. When he finally thrust into her, it was not gentle. It was fierce, primal, desperate—as though he needed to prove to himself she was real, she was his. And still, he worshipped her body, every growl melting into reverent kisses that left her trembling.
The pleasure built like a storm, wave after wave until she shattered around him, crying his name, dragging him with her into oblivion.
When it was over, when their bodies were tangled in sweat and breath, he pulled her against his chest. His grip was so tight it was almost painful, as though he feared she would vanish.
Seraphina buried her face against his throat, her heart still racing. For the first time, he held her not as duty, not as reluctant mate, but as something he could not bear to lose.
---
But peace could not last.
The next morning, the council summoned them again. The air was thicker than before, sharp with unease. Lyanna had vanished into the shadows after her failed attack, but her whispers lingered. Nobles had seen her flee, had heard her cry accusations of betrayal and corruption.
"Your Majesty," one elder said coldly, "there are rumors spreading through the villages. Some say the Luna is a savior. Others say she bewitched the entire court to seize power at your side."
Dominic's lips curled in a snarl. "Rumors are the weapons of cowards."
"Rumors," another snapped, "start rebellions."
The words struck deep. Seraphina felt the court's eyes on her again, sharp as knives. She wanted to speak, to defend herself, but she knew every word she uttered could be twisted.
And then, like venom, came the voice she dreaded.
Lyanna.
Not in the flesh—no, she was far too clever—but in a message, delivered by a trembling servant. A scroll, sealed in crimson wax.
Dominic broke it open, his face darkening as his eyes scanned the words.
"Read it," one of the elders demanded.
His claws shredded the parchment in a single violent motion. "No."
But Seraphina had already caught a glimpse. Enough to understand.
The letter accused her—Seraphina—of conspiring with Lyanna herself. It painted her magic as evidence, claimed the sea witch's daughter had sung her way into Dominic's bed, into his throne. Claimed she had bewitched the Alpha into loving her.
The chamber erupted in chaos.
Dominic's voice roared over them all. "Lies!"
But doubt had already taken root. Seraphina could see it in their eyes.
She stood slowly, her knees trembling but her voice steady. "If you believe I bewitched him, then test me. Strip me of my song. Bind my hands. Chain me if you must. But know this—if I meant to betray him, I would not have saved his life when poison burned in his blood."
Silence fell.
Her gaze swept the chamber, cold and proud despite the ache in her chest. "You fear me because you cannot control me. But I am not your enemy. I am your Luna."
For the first time, some of the wolves bowed their heads. Not all—but some.
Dominic rose beside her, his hand catching hers in full view of the court. The gesture was small, but it was a declaration. A claim.
"She is mine," he said again, softer this time but more dangerous. "And I will tear apart anyone who dares say otherwise."
---
That night, when they were finally alone again, Seraphina sat by the fire, her eyes heavy with exhaustion.
"You shouldn't have to fight for me like this," she whispered.
Dominic crouched before her, his hand cupping her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You are worth fighting for."
Her breath caught. She searched his eyes, trying to find the truth. And for the first time, she saw no hesitation. No denial. Only fire.
The kiss he gave her then was slower, gentler, but no less consuming. A promise.
And though shadows lingered at the edges of their world—Lyanna's schemes, the court's doubts, the fragile line between love and ruin—Seraphina felt the bond anchor her heart.
For the first time, she believed they might survive this war together