POV EMMA BELLE
The Great Hall had cleared, leaving only the heavy silence of the mountain and the lingering, bitter scent of Alpha frustration. I sat on my throne, my fingers subconsciously straying to the mark on my neck. It was warm, a steady pulse of silver light that acted as a constant, golden hum of support in the back of my mind. Even now, I could feel Félix nearby—a quiet presence in the shadows, trusting me, yet hurting.
The Union of the Four had to be completed. But the others had mistaken my necessity for a surrender.
"He's waiting for you in the subterranean springs," Vincent's voice drifted from the darkness near the tapestry. He didn't look at me; his eyes were fixed on the darkening horizon. "Damon's fire is volatile, Emma. He thinks the only way to anchor his soul to yours is the ancient way. The primal way."
"He's wrong," I said, my voice sharp. "I am the White Queen. I define the rites, not the traditions of men who died a thousand years ago."
I stood up and made my way down the winding stone stairs, deep into the belly of the mountain. The air grew humid, smelling of sulfur and wet stone. When I entered the cavern, the steam was thick, illuminated only by the bioluminescent moss that clung to the jagged walls.
Damon was in the pool, his massive back a map of scars and muscle. As I approached the water's edge, he turned. His golden eyes were glowing with a predatory heat that made the steam swirl violently around him.
"You're late," he growled, his voice echoing off the damp stone. He waded toward the edge, the water cascading off his powerful chest. "Strip. Let's get this over with before I lose my mind from the scent of the rebel on your skin."
I didn't move. I didn't even reach for the fastenings of my leathers. I stood at the edge of the pool, looking down at the most feared Alpha in the North with a gaze of cold violet fire.
"I am here for the anchor, Damon. Not for your bed."
Damon froze, his hands gripping the edge of the stone. "The Union requires a total merge of essence, Emma. You know the laws. The blood, the breath, the flesh—"
"The laws were written by Alphas who wanted to own their Lunas," I interrupted, my voice echoing with a power that made the water ripple. "I am a Queen. I don't need to surrender my body to channel your strength. I only need your spirit. And I will take it by force if I have to."
Damon let out a harsh, guttural laugh and lunged out of the water. In a blur of motion, he was standing in front of me, dripping wet, his sheer size looming over me like a mountain. He grabbed my arms, his grip iron-strong.
"You think you can just take my power and walk away?" he hissed, his face inches from mine. "I can feel the mark Félix left on you. It's a slap in the face to every other King in this fortress. You belong to the Four, Emma. Not just the boy with the jokes."
"My soul is tied to the Four for the sake of the North," I said, refusing to flinch even as his Alpha aura tried to crush me. "But my body... my body is a temple, Damon. And I have already chosen the only man allowed inside its gates."
The rejection hit him harder than a physical blow. His pupils dilated until his eyes were entirely gold. He pulled me closer, his chest heaving against mine. For a second, I thought he might try to force the bond, but the silver light of the mark on my neck suddenly flared, creating a shimmering barrier between us.
Damon snarled, his teeth bared. "You're shielding? Against me?"
"I'm setting a boundary," I replied. "Now, give me your hands."
He stared at me for a long, agonizing minute, the silence in the cave heavy with the scent of his wounded pride and simmering desire. Slowly, grudgingly, he reached out. I took his massive hands in mine.
The moment our palms met, I closed my eyes and reached for the mountain's core.
"Don't fight me, Damon," I whispered. "Give me the fire. Not for me, but for the children. For the Black Crag."
I felt him shudder. The anger didn't vanish, but it shifted. A wave of volcanic heat poured from his hands into mine. It wasn't the sweet, rhythmic flow I shared with Félix; it was a brutal, jagged invasion of power. It felt like drinking liquid fire. My wolf roared, her fur bristling as she absorbed the raw strength of the Amber Alpha.
We stood there in the steam, our hands locked, our foreheads eventually coming together as the energy transfer intensified. The anchor was forming. I could feel the stone of the mountain responding, the vibrations of the fortress smoothing out as Damon's essence began to weave into the Queen's light.
It was intense. It was intimate. But it was not sex.
Damon's breathing was ragged. He was leaning into me, his forehead pressed hard against mine, his scent of smoke and iron filling my lungs. He wanted more—I could feel the ache in him, the desperate need to claim me fully—pero yo me mantuve firme como el diamante.
"Is that... enough for you?" he gasped, the sweat dripping from his brow.
"The anchor is set," I said, my voice vibrating with the power I had just taken from him.
I let go of his hands. The sudden loss of contact made us both stumble. Damon looked at me, his golden eyes filled with a mixture of awe, resentment, and a newfound, begrudging respect. He realized then that he couldn't bully me into his bed. He couldn't use the "Union" as an excuse to overwrite what Félix had done.
"You're a cruel Queen, Emma Belle," he whispered, wiping the moisture from his face. "You take our strength, you demand our lives, and you give us nothing but a cold light in return."
"I give you a future, Damon," I said, reaching for my cloak. "And I give you a leader who isn't a slave to her instincts."
I turned to leave, but I stopped at the entrance of the tunnel. I looked back at him, standing alone in the turquoise water. "And for the record... I don't have 'leftovers'. What I have for Félix is the whole of my heart. What I have for you is the fate of the world. Don't confuse the two."
As I walked back up the stairs, the fire in my veins began to settle. The first pillar was anchored. The Black Crag was stronger. But more importantly, I had protected the one thing the Council and the Kings couldn't touch.
Félix was waiting for me at the top of the stairs. He didn't say a word. He just looked at me—at my fully dressed form, at the steady, calm light in my eyes—and he let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for hours.
He walked over and pulled me into a silent, crushing hug. He buried his face in my hair, his body trembling with relief.
"You didn't..." he whispered.
"I told you, Lixie," I murmured, clutching the back of his tunic. "I am your mate. Only yours. The others can have my power, but they will never have this."
Félix pulled back, a wide, hoyuelo-filled grin breaking across his face. He looked down the stairs toward the springs, then back at me, his eyes shining with a mischievous, triumphant light.
"I think I love you even more when you're being a terrifying Queen, Little Bird."
"Good," I laughed, taking his hand. "Because we still have Nathaniel and Vincent to deal with. And I don't think Nathaniel is going to be as easy to intimidate as Damon."
"Let him try," Félix said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "He can bring all the logic in the world, but he'll never have the rhythm."
We walked back toward the Great Hall, hand in hand. The war was still coming, and the Union was only beginning, but for the first time, I felt like I was truly in control.
I was the White Queen. And I was nobody's puppet.