Selene's fingers trembled where they clutched his wrist, but she refused to let go. She knew she should. She knew this was the kind of defiance wolves were executed for. But some reckless part of her, some cursed piece of her bloodline, kept her hand locked on his skin as though it might shield her.
Golden eyes burned down into hers. Closer now. Too close.
"You should kneel," Dorian said, his voice soft enough that no one beyond their circle would hear. "Every wolf here bows to me. Why don't you?"
Selene's throat tightened. Her wolf inside her quaked, begging her to drop, to bare her neck, to submit like the rest. But Selene forced her chin higher.
"Because I'm not yours."
For a breath, silence stretched. His expression didn't shift. He only stared at her, gaze steady and unblinking, like a predator deciding how long to toy with its prey before the kill.
Then his mouth curved again, slow and dangerous. "Not yet."
Her chest constricted. Heat pooled in her stomach, tangled with fear so sharp it made her dizzy. She tried to pull her hand away, but his wrist flexed, muscles like iron beneath her grip, holding her in place without even closing his fist.
The crowd had begun to notice. Heads turned. Whispers slid like snakes through the wolves pressed close to the circle. Who was she? Why was the heir speaking to a cloaked girl when he should have been taking his victory lap, claiming the night's devotion?
Selene's stomach knotted. She had to leave. Now.
She shoved his wrist harder, trying to break free, but it was like pushing against a wall. He let her struggle, golden eyes glinting, watching every movement, every shiver.
"Careful," he murmured. "Struggle too much, and I'll think you want me to chase you."
Her pulse leapt. His tone was a threat but also a promise. A dangerous, thrilling promise that left her skin burning.
Selene forced herself to breathe. Forced herself to focus. She couldn't let him pull her into whatever game this was. She needed distance. She needed shadow. She needed to disappear before he dragged her into the center of the circle and ripped her hood away before the entire court.
Gathering her strength, she twisted sharply, slipping free by a hair's breadth. The hood slipped lower over her face as she ducked into the crush of bodies.
The crowd swallowed her.
For a moment, she thought she'd done it. Thought she was lost in the press of fur and sweat and smoke. Thought she could slip out through the gate before he—
Heat pressed at her back. A presence, unmistakable, curling over her shoulders and down her spine like claws.
She didn't dare look, but she knew. Dorian Veyrath was behind her.
Selene's hands shook as she pushed deeper into the throng. Wolves jostled her, cursed at her, laughed at her clumsiness, but none of it mattered. She had to get out. Every step closer to the gate sent hope fluttering in her chest.
Then a hand caught her wrist.
She turned, heart hammering.
Dorian stood inches away, the torchlight painting his skin in fire, blood still drying on his chest from the fight. His grip on her was unyielding but not crushing, as though he wanted her to understand: he didn't need force. He only needed will.
Golden eyes locked on hers. "Running already?"
Selene's breath shuddered. She tried to wrench free, but his hold tightened just enough to still her.
"I don't belong here," she said, the words scraping raw against her throat.
His head tilted. "Then why are you here?"
She froze. Because she wanted to see the ritual? Because she was cursed with the same hunger that had damned her bloodline? Because she couldn't stay away from the fire even though she knew it would burn her alive? She said nothing.
Dorian leaned closer, his mouth brushing the edge of her hood. The heat of his breath ghosted across her skin. "Tell me, little wolf… did you come for me?"
Selene's chest heaved, her pulse slamming in her ears loud enough she thought the entire courtyard might hear it. Dorian's grip was unyielding, his golden eyes burning with the kind of focus that made her feel stripped bare, her hood nothing but a scrap of cloth between them.
"Answer me," he murmured, the words threading through the crowd's howls and chants as though they were meant for her alone. "Did you come for me?"
Her lips parted. Nothing came. She wanted to deny it, to spit in his face, to tell him she would never seek a monster like him. But her throat locked. The heat of him pressed down on her like a storm, his aura suffocating, dragging her wolf to its knees inside her chest.
Selene forced air into her lungs. "I came for the ritual."
His head tilted, a predator considering a lie.
"The ritual," he repeated, as if tasting the word. His hand tightened on her wrist, not painfully, but enough to make her body remember that he had just torn a wolf apart with less effort than it took her to breathe. "You risked your life to watch blood spill on stone?"
Her jaw clenched. "Better than bowing to you."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. The nearest wolves turned, wide-eyed, as if waiting for Dorian to strike her down where she stood.
He didn't.
Instead, his mouth curved. Dangerous. Almost amused.
For a heartbeat, she thought he might kill her. His aura thickened, golden eyes glowing brighter until the torchlight seemed dim by comparison. Wolves around them bowed lower, spines bent, ears flat against their skulls.
But then slowly he leaned in, his lips brushing the edge of her hood.
Her breath hitched. Heat surged low in her belly, shameful and unwanted. She tried to jerk her wrist free, but he only shifted his grip, sliding his fingers to twine around hers. A mockery of intimacy. A claim. Selene's heart pounded. "Let me go."
"Sure"
Selene darted away from the courtyard, slipping past drunken wolves and torchlit arches, her cloak whipping at her heels. The fortress walls loomed taller here, cold and damp, their stones slick with centuries of rain.
Her lungs burned. Every step echoed louder than it should have, as if the castle itself wanted him to hear her coming.
She didn't look back. She didn't have to. She felt him.
Dorian Veyrath moved through the fortress like a shadow that refused to loosen its grip. His presence pressed against her spine, close enough that every hair on her neck stood on end. He didn't hurry. He didn't need to. Predators never rushed their prey.
Selene's boots scraped stone as she twisted down a narrow passage, her chest heaving. The air here was cooler, thick with damp moss and rust. She pressed herself flat against the wall, yanking her hood lower, praying the crowd from the courtyard had swallowed him up.
For a moment she thought she was alone.
Then the shadows shifted.
He stepped into view at the far end of the passage, golden eyes burning in the dark.
Selene's breath caught.
His cloak dragged across the stone as he prowled forward, slow and deliberate, his footsteps unhurried. His chest was still streaked with blood from the fight, his jaw shadowed, his aura rolling ahead of him like smoke.
"Run if you want," he said, voice low enough to crawl over her skin. "I'll always find you."
Her nails dug into the stone at her back. "Why me?" she forced out.
His head tilted, wolfish. "Because you looked at me."
Selene's stomach twisted. She shook her head, anger flaring through her fear. "Others looked at you."
"They bowed," he said, his mouth curving, "but they didn't dare stare."
He stopped a few feet away, close enough that the heat of him seeped into her bones. Torchlight caught in his eyes, making them glow brighter, sharper, as though the beast beneath his skin pressed forward to see her better.
Selene's chest heaved. "I'm not yours," she whispered, the words trembling but firm.
Dorian leaned closer, bracing one hand against the wall above her head. His breath brushed her cheek, warm, tinged with iron.
"Not yet," he said again, softer this time, like a vow.
Her pulse stumbled. The fortress seemed to shrink around them, silence pressing in until there was only the sound of her breathing, his breathing, and the ragged beat of her heart.
Selene swallowed hard, mustering the last shards of her courage. "You can chase me. You can corner me. But you'll never own me."
For a long moment, he only stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then suddenly he stepped back. The absence of his heat felt like a plunge into cold water.
Selene's lungs seized as he looked at her one last time, his eyes glowing gold in the dark.
"I already do," he murmured.
And then he turned, vanishing into shadow as though the fortress itself had swallowed him whole. Selene sagged against the wall, her chest heaving, her wrist still tingling where he'd held her.
She should have felt relief. Instead, all she felt was terror because a part of her, buried deep and unwanted, wasn't sure if he was wrong.