The clash of wolves was thunder.
Damon's silver form slammed into the massive black wolf, their snarls echoing through the cathedral like the roar of a storm. Stone cracked beneath their weight, claws raked sparks across the marble floor. The crowd pressed back, forming a circle, their gasps and shouts blending with the guttural growls of beasts locked in blood-feud.
Maya couldn't move. She couldn't breathe.
Her heart slammed against her ribs as she stared at Damon—no, not Damon. A creature both magnificent and terrifying. His fur was a storm of silver and shadow, his body enormous, every movement coiled with lethal grace. His eyes, still that impossible mercury, locked on his opponent with feral rage.
The black wolf lunged, jaws snapping for Damon's throat. Damon twisted, slamming him into the broken altar, stone exploding into dust. The force rattled Maya's bones. Blood streaked the marble.
"God," Maya whispered, clutching her chest. "He's going to die—"
"He won't."
The voice beside her was Selene's. She stood too close, her eyes gleaming with something like delight. "Damon Blackthorn doesn't lose. Not when he's fighting for something he's claimed."
Maya's stomach turned. "I didn't ask him to fight for me."
Selene's lips curved into a cruel smile. "That doesn't matter. Wolves don't ask. They take. And he's taken you, whether you understand it or not."
Maya tore her gaze from Selene just in time to see Damon's wolf sink his teeth into the black wolf's shoulder. A spray of blood spattered the cracked stone. The black wolf howled, thrashing, but Damon held on, jaws locked like iron. With a vicious twist, he slammed the beast onto its back.
Silence fell.
Pinned, bleeding, the black wolf whimpered, his red eyes dimming.
Damon released him, stepping back, chest heaving. His silver eyes swept the council, daring any of them to challenge him. None did.
The elder woman's voice rang out, calm but edged with steel. "The bond stands. The human is accepted. Damon Blackthorn, you remain under our watch—but tonight, you have earned your place."
A roar of approval erupted from the crowd. Wolves howled, glasses were raised, the cathedral thrummed with wild energy.
Maya swayed, dizzy with it all. She hardly noticed Damon moving toward her until he was right there, towering over her in his wolf form, silver eyes burning into hers.
Her breath caught.
Every instinct screamed at her to run. To flee from the predator in front of her, from the blood still dripping from his muzzle, from the sheer power radiating off him.
But she didn't run.
She reached out.
Her hand trembled as it hovered over his fur. The crowd held its breath. Damon stilled. Then, slowly, she touched him.
Heat rushed up her arm, fire and lightning tangled together. The bond. She felt it—alive, pulsing between them, a tether that wrapped tight around her soul. His heartbeat slammed into hers, too strong, too consuming.
Maya gasped, jerking her hand back. Damon's wolf blinked once, then turned, his body shimmering. Bones cracked, fur receded, and in the space of a breath, he stood before her again in human form. Bare, unashamed, blood streaking his skin.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Maya's face burned. She spun away, her pulse a hurricane.
A low chuckle drifted to her. Damon. Unbothered, dangerous, too close.
"Afraid of me now, little wife?"
She whirled, anger sparking through the fear. "Afraid? You just tore another wolf to pieces in front of me!"
"I didn't kill him," Damon said simply. His silver eyes caught the torchlight, unreadable. "I showed them what happens when they threaten you."
Her chest heaved. "I never asked for this."
"You accepted it," he countered, his voice low. "Don't lie—to me or yourself."
The way he looked at her, raw and unflinching, made her stomach knot. She hated that part of her wanted to step closer instead of pulling away.
The council dismissed them soon after. Wolves returned to feasting and drinking as if nothing had happened. But the whispers followed Maya as Damon led her from the cathedral. Human. Fragile. Claimed.
The car ride back was suffocatingly silent. Damon lounged in the leather seat across from her, his shirt open, his body still streaked with blood he hadn't bothered to wipe away. He looked like sin made flesh.
Maya clenched her fists in her lap. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Tell you what?"
"That this bond—whatever it is—means you'll fight to the death for me. That I'm not just… some paper wife. That I'm tied to all of this."
His gaze slid to her, heavy and unreadable. "Would you have stayed if you'd known?"
The truth lodged in her throat. She hated it. She hated him for asking.
"You're impossible," she whispered, turning to the rain-lashed window.
He leaned forward, his voice a low growl. "And yet you're still here."
Her pulse skipped. She didn't look at him. Couldn't.
Back at the penthouse, Maya fled to her room. She stripped off the dress, scrubbing herself raw in the shower as if she could wash away the memory of blood, the echo of power, the electric feel of Damon's wolf-heart beating against hers.
But even as she curled into bed, exhaustion dragging her under, one truth refused to be silenced.
She wasn't afraid of Damon Blackthorn.
She was afraid of herself—of how much she wanted him, even after everything.