Chapter 5

Keira’s pov

His thumb lingered against my cheekbone, the heat of his skin searing through the chill of my blood.

"Keira," he repeated softly, his voice a low, dark vibration. "A sweet name for a wild thing."

I pulled back, breaking his touch, and took two fast steps toward the hearth. My hands trembled, but I kept my chin up and my eyes locked on his.

"It isn't a sweet name," I said, my voice tight. "It's my real name. I had to use an alias so I could hide from my stepfather who wanted to kill me.”

“Who is your father?”

“The Baron.”

His eyes widened slightly, “Baron Nightshade is your stepfather?” His hands curled into a fist as I nodded.

“And my sister's life is in your hands now." I hissed at him.

Lucian didn't look angry. The faint, dark smirk returned to his face as he crossed his broad arms over his black leather coat.

"Lord Kaelen is the best tracker in the Blackfang Hold," Lucian said smoothly. "If your sister is in that cellar, he will find her before midnight."

"And if he decides to kill her instead?" I demanded, my pulse hammering in my throat. "He looked at me like I was dirt under his boot."

Lucian’s eyes darkened, a flash of dangerous gold flickering across his pupils.

"Kaelen knows better than to touch what is mine," Lucian growled. "He obeys my blood, or he bleeds."

A heavy knock rattled the oak door, breaking the tension between us.

"Your Majesty!" Lord Cassian’s voice called out from the hall urgently. "Lord Malakor has brought his war council to the grand hall! They demand an audience regarding the border captives!"

Lucian closed his eyes for a split second, letting out a long, heavy exhale that sounded like a suppressed roar.

He opened his eyes, his dark obsidian gaze locking onto mine.

"Stay in this room," Lucian ordered, his baritone leaving no room for argument. "The door will be locked from the outside. No one enters while I am gone."

"Lucian, wait—" I started, stepping forward.

"Eat the food on the table," he interrupted, gesturing toward a tray of hot meat and bread that a servant had left earlier. "You need your strength, Keira."

He turned, unbolted the heavy brass lock, and stepped out into the corridor. He slammed the heavy oak door shut behind him, and the bolt slid into place with a final clank.

I stood alone in the quiet room, listening as his heavy boots echoed down the stone hallway until total silence returned.

I ran to the door and grabbed the iron handle. I yanked it with all my strength, but it didn't budge.

"Damn it," I whispered, resting my forehead against the cold wood.

I couldn't just sit here and wait like a helpless prisoner. If Lord Malakor and the High Council convinced Lucian to execute the human captives, or if Kaelen came back with bad news about Calla, I needed a way out.

I turned away from the door and walked over to the grand fireplace.

A heavy iron fire poker sat in a brass stand beside the hearth. It was nearly two feet long, forged from solid iron, and ended in a sharp, hooked point.

I picked it up. It felt heavy and cold in my grip, balancing well in my hand.

I slid the iron rod up the wide sleeve of my coat, wedging it firmly against my forearm. It wasn't a sword, but it was enough to drive through a guard's throat if anyone tried to hurt me.

Two hours passed in agonizing silence.

I paced the floor, my eyes constantly darting between the arched windows and the heavy oak door. The mountain wind howled outside, rattling the glass panes, kicking up swirling snow against the dark obsidian peaks.

My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn't eaten since yesterday morning.

I walked over to the table and snatched a piece of crusty bread from the tray, chewing quickly. I forced myself to swallow every bite, keeping my eyes fixed on the door.

A low, terrifying growl vibrated through the stone floor, making the flames in the hearth flicker violently.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

The brass lock turned with a violent snap. The heavy oak door slammed inward, crashing against the stone wall.

King Lucian stood in the doorway.

His black leather coat was torn at the shoulder, blood staining the collar. His dark hair fell wildly over his forehead, and his eyes weren't dark anymore, they were blazing with wild, blinding gold.

The feral beast had taken over again.

"Lucian?" I whispered, taking a cautious step back toward the hearth, my hand sliding up my sleeve to grip the iron rod.

He didn't answer. He slammed the door shut behind him, but he didn't bother to throw the bolt.

He stalked across the room toward me, his broad chest rising and falling in deep, ragged breaths. The scent of darkness and fresh blood rolled off him, thick enough to make my head swim.

"They tried to take you," Lucian rasped, his voice completely wrecked, carrying a lethal, razor-sharp edge. "Malakor... the Council... they said a human cannot sit on the throne."

He closed the distance between us before I could draw another breath.

"Lucian, stay back!" I yelled, pulling the iron rod from my sleeve and holding the sharp hook pointed directly at his chest.

Lucian didn't even flinch.

He stepped right into the sharp point, letting the iron tip press into the leather over his sternum until it drew a tiny drop of dark blood through his coat.

He reached out, his bare hand clamping over the iron rod right above my grip. With a single, effortless twist of his wrist, he yanked the weapon out of my hands and tossed it across the room. It clattered uselessly against the stone floor.

Before I could dodge away, his arms wrapped around my waist.

He slammed me against his chest, trapping my arms between our bodies.

"Lucian, stop!" I gasped, pressing my palms against his massive shoulders, straining with all my strength to push him away.

His face buried straight into the side of my neck, right over my throbbing pulse point. He pressed his lips to my skin, taking a long, ragged inhale that made his entire frame tremble.

"I fought them for you," he growled against my throat, his grip tightening until I could barely breathe. "I will burn this entire kingdom to ashes before I let them touch you."

He pulled his head back, his glowing golden eyes locking onto mine with an intensity so raw and possessive it made my knees go weak.

"Tell me you're mine," he demanded, his voice a low, velvet rasp. "Say it."

I glared straight into his glowing eyes, my chest heaving against his.

"I belong to no one," I bit out.

A dark, feral smirk touched the corner of his lips.

"We'll see about that, mate," he whispered, and then his mouth dropped down to cover mine.