Chapter 99
Chapter 99
Chapter 99
The walk to the caves takes longer than I expected.
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We move through the main estate, past the polished corridors and grand halls where the nobles live, and then we keep going. Into the forest. Deeper. Darker.
Away from civilization and into something much older.
The temperature drops as we descend, the manicured paths giving way to rough stone steps carved directly into the earth. Torches line the walls now instead of electric lights, and the air tastes like damp stone and something wild.
“These are the primitives,” Alaric explains as we walk, his hand never leaving mine. “The wolves who never adapted to modern pack life. Who live by instinct and violence rather than law and they kill.”
“And you just… keep them in caves?”
“They prefer it here. They’re not prisoners, Sorin. They’re warriors. The best fighters I have. When I go to war, these are the wolves who make sure I win.”
These are the wolves who helped you conquer pack after pack. Who helped you become the Alpha King. Who helped you send my father to his death.
I swallow hard against that thought.
We round a corner, and suddenly the tunnel opens up into a massive cavern.
And oh, fuck.
The primitives are exactly what their name suggests: primitive.
They’re larger than regular wolves, more heavily muscled, with eyes that glow in the torchlight like predators in the dark. Some are in human form, covered in scars and tribal markings. Others are half–shifted, stuck somewhere between man and beast in a way that should be impossible.
The second we enter, they start howling.
The sound is deafening, echoing off the stone walls until it feels like the entire cave is screaming. They surge forward, pressing toward Alaric with reverence that borders on worship.
Their King has arrived.
And then they see me.
The howling stops.
Dozens of glowing eyes lock onto me, and the silence is somehow worse than the noise. I can feel them assessing me, measuring me, deciding if I’m prey or predator.
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Chapter 99
Fuck subtle, Subtle gets you killed here.
I reach up and drop the robe.
It pools at my feet, leaving me standing in that ridiculous, revealing dress that suddenly doesn’t feel ridiculous at all. It feels tactical. Strategic.
It feels like armor made of skin and silk and absolute fucking audacity.
The primitives go silent. Watching.
Alaric moves toward a throne carved directly from the stone–rough, imposing, unmistakably his. He sits, and I look for a second throne beside it.
There isn’t one.
Of course there isn’t. Because these wolves don’t recognize queens who sit politely beside their kings. They recognize possession. Ownership. Dominance.
One of the primitives—a massive male with facial scars that tell stories of violence–hisses at me. Low and threatening, a challenge written in the curl of his lips.
Oh, hell no.
I bare my teeth and hiss back–low, guttural, with every ounce of dominance I can channel into the sound. The kind of sound that says try me and see what happens.
The male’s eyes widen. Then he backs down, lowering his gaze.
The rest of the cavern watches with renewed interest.
Good. Let them watch.
I walk toward Alaric’s throne with my head high, my hips swaying, every movement calculated to convey one simple message: This is my King, and I am his.
When I reach him, I don’t ask permission. Don’t hesitate.
I sit directly on his lap, straddling him on that stone throne in front of hundreds of primitive wolves who could tear me apart with their bare hands.
Alaric’s hands immediately find my hips, possessive and hot even through the thin fabric. His eyes are dark, hungry, and I can feel exactly how much he appreciates this particular display.
I sweep my hair to one side, exposing my neck–exposing every single hickey and bite mark he left on my skin last night.
The primitives make sounds. Low growls, approving rumbles, the kind of noises that say they understand this language perfectly.
Alaric starts speaking to them–words about the upcoming war, about the attack on Thornback territory,
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Chapter 99
about how they’ll fight beside him and crush anyone who dares challenge the Imperial Pack.
I tune out most of it, focused instead on the performance.
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I trail my fingers along his jaw. Press my lips to his neck. Make it abundantly, unmistakably clear that this man is mine as much as I am his.
“You’re going to get me killed,” Alaric murmurs against my car, low enough that only I can hear. “I’m getting hard as fuck and we’re in front of my entire primitive army.”
“Then bear with it, Your Majesty,” I whisper back, and I let my hand trail down his chest, just to torture him a little more.
His grip on my hips tightens almost painfully. “They need more proof.”
“More proof of what?”
“That you’re mine.”
Before I can ask what the hell that means, his hand slides beneath the slit in my dress–the one that goes all the way up to my hip–and settles directly on my bare ass.
In front of everyone.
I should be mortified. Should pull away, slap his hand, maintain some shred of dignity.
Instead, I feel power surge through me like electricity.
This is what it means to be queen here. Not politeness or propriety or any of that civilized bullshit. This is raw, primal ownership, and every primitive wolf in this cavern understands it perfectly.
“Settle,” Alaric commands them, his voice cutting through the growing rumble of approval. “I’m simply satisfying my queen.”
And fuck me, I love it.
I love the weight of their stares. The way they look at me with something that might be fear, might be respect, might be both. The way Alaric holds me like he’ll fight every single one of them if they so much as breathe wrong in my direction.
For one perfect, terrible moment, I don’t want this to end.
I don’t want to leave. Don’t want to execute the plan. Don’t want to become a ghost and disappear into nothing.
I want to stay here, in this underground kingdom, and rule beside this man who killed my father and claimed my heart in equal measure.
No. Stop it. Remember why you’re doing this. Remember justice. Remember-
Alaric stands abruptly, lifting me with him like I weigh nothing. His hand finds mine, our fingers threading
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Chapter 99
together as he turns to face the assembled primitives.
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“This is Sorin,” he announces, his voice carrying to every corner of the cavern. “My mate. My queen. Anyone who challenges her challenges me.”
The primitives shift restlessly, and I can feel their hesitation like a living thing.
They’re not convinced.
Fine.
I step forward, pulling my hand from Alaric’s, and I let everything I’ve been holding back rise to the surface. All the rage, all the grief, all the power that comes from being a woman who’s lost everything and is still standing.
I hiss—not a playful sound this time, but a promise of violence. A sound that says I’ve walked through fire and come out the other side with teeth.
The primitives freeze.
Then, slowly, one of them drops to a knee.
Then another.
Then another, until the entire cavern is kneeling, and someone strikes a massive gong that reverberates through the stone.
“Strongest queen!” someone howls.
“Long live the King and Queen!” another shouts.
The cavern erupts in celebration–howls and roars and the crash of fists against stone.
I did it.
I actually fucking did it.
I turn back to Alaric, triumphant and high on adrenaline, and the look in his eyes is pure predatory satisfaction.
He grabs me by the back of the neck and pulls me into a kiss that’s all tongue and teeth and possessive claiming. Right there. In front of everyone.
His mouth is hot and demanding, and I kiss him back with equal ferocity, my fingers tangling in his hair, body pressed against his like I can’t get close enough.
The primitives howl louder.
And for one perfect, impossible moment, I let myself forget.
my
Forget the plan. Forget the betrayal. Forget everything except the taste of him and the weight of a crown I’ll
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Chapter 99
never actually wear.
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When we finally break apart, both breathing hard, Alaric keeps his hand on my neck and whispers against my lips:
“You’re magnificent.”
I smile, sharp and bright and absolutely devastating.
“I know.”
And somewhere deep inside, beneath the performance and the power and the intoxicating rush of being worshipped by wolves who bow to nothing-
I feel my heart breaking.
Because this?
This is the last time.
And I’m the only one who knows it.