The rogue kingdom celebrated late into the blood-soaked night.
Their howls split the sky. Their fires licked at the ruins.
But I wasn't celebrating.
I was trapped.
Caged inside Lucian's black-stone tower — the "queen's chambers," they called it.
As if giving me a crown made me anything other than a prisoner.
I ripped the ruby circlet from my hair and hurled it across the room, where it shattered against the wall.
The door swung open.
Lucian stalked inside — shirtless, blood still staining his skin, his hair wild.
A dark god stepped straight out of hell.
I backed away instinctively.
He watched me with those molten gold eyes — not angry, not amused.
Something worse.
Something hungry.
He kicked the broken crown aside and closed the door behind him with a soft, deadly click.
"You think a title protects you?" he said, voice low, dangerous. "You think being Queen gives you power over me?"
I swallowed.
"No," I said hoarsely. "It makes me your property."
He crossed the room in two strides, his hand slamming into the wall beside my head, trapping me.
His body caged me without even touching.
"You are not my property," Lucian snarled. "You are my obsession."
His words hit harder than any blow.
I shook my head, hating the hot, traitorous flush rising under my skin.
"You rejected me," I hissed. "You destroyed me."
Lucian's hand rose — not to strike.
To cup my jaw.
Rough. Possessive.
"I had to," he said, voice cracking. "If they knew what you meant to me back then… they would've torn you apart. I had to break you before they could."
Tears stung my eyes.
"You broke me anyway."
His thumb traced the corner of my trembling mouth.
"I know."
For one agonizing heartbeat, the storm between us paused.
No anger. No hate.
Just two ruined creatures, tethered by a bond too deep to kill.
Then Lucian's mouth crashed onto mine.
It wasn't a kiss.
It was a claiming.
Teeth. Tongue. Blood.
I fought him — clawed at him — and he welcomed it, devoured it, ripped a guttural moan from deep in his chest as he pressed me harder against the stone.
He kissed me like a man who had waited a lifetime for this moment and was willing to burn the world to ash just to taste me.
When I bit his lip, drawing blood, he only growled and kissed me deeper.
He wanted the fight.
He craved the violence.
And so did I.
I hated him.
I needed him.
I would never survive him.
Lucian broke the kiss, breathing ragged, his forehead pressed to mine.
"You'll always belong to me," he rasped. "Even when you try to run. Even when you beg someone else to save you. You're mine, little wolf."
I gasped, shuddering against him.
"You're a monster," I whispered.
He smiled — a terrible, beautiful thing.
"And monsters don't let go."
Later, when he finally left — after tearing down every wall I'd tried to build between us — I lay broken and breathless on the cold stone bed, staring at the ceiling.
Lucian had marked me again.
Not with chains.
Not with a crown.
But with his kiss.
His touch.
His blood.
And deep inside me, something black and terrible stirred.
Not fear.
Not hate.
Need.
The bond was alive now — feral and vicious — thrumming under my skin.
I pressed my hand to my heart, breathing hard.
I didn't want to survive him anymore.
I wanted to destroy him the same way he was destroying me.