Darrian's POV
☆☆☆☆☆
She smelled like blood, silver, and fire.
Darrian paced the stone floor of his study, the memory of her still fresh on his skin. Her blood clung to his shirt. Her scent filled his lungs—sweet, broken, defiant.
And undeniably his.
He gritted his teeth, claws pressing through the tips of his fingers. The shift beckoned—violent, primal—but he forced it down.
Now wasn't the time to lose control.
The girl lay in the guest wing, unconscious, barely breathing. His healers worked silently, terrified of even speaking her name in front of him. None of them had dared to ask who she was. They didn't have to.
She was his mate.
The bond had snapped into place the moment he touched her. Feral. Sudden. Unforgiving.
He hadn't wanted this.
Mates were weakness. Distractions. And he'd already carved his legacy in blood—one feared by alphas across the continent. Darrian had built his empire on ruthlessness, not tenderness.
And yet…
That girl. Her body torn. Her pulse faint. Her eyes had still held fire.
Whoever had done this to her was dead. They just hadn't realized it yet.
A knock sounded at the door.
Darrian didn't answer.
The door creaked open anyway—only one wolf in his entire territory would dare.
Elias, his beta, stepped inside. "She's stable. For now."
Darrian said nothing.
Elias hesitated. "You felt it too, didn't you?"
Darrian's jaw clenched.
"She's your—"
"Don't say it," he snapped, his voice like a whip. "Not yet."
Elias nodded. "Understood."
Darrian turned toward the window, staring into the dark pines beyond the border. "She came from Marcus's territory."
Elias stiffened. "Then she's lucky to be alive."
Darrian's eyes narrowed. "Not luck. Will. She clawed her way through silver and spells. And she nearly died doing it."
The rage simmered hotter now, rising like a tide.
Marcus. That bastard had always been a thorn, a cruel tyrant pretending at strength. But this? Hurting a female—his mate? That was a declaration of war.
And Marcus didn't even know it yet.
"She'll live," Elias said quietly. "But she's not going to wake easily. Her wolf is wounded too. She may not trust us."
"She doesn't have to," Darrian growled. "She's mine. I'll make her trust me."
Elias said nothing.
Darrian's gaze slid toward the door.
He didn't know her name. Didn't know her story.
But he knew pain when he saw it. And hers had been layered in years, deep and dark like his own. Something in him—something he'd long buried—responded to that.
He left the study without a word, boots echoing down the hall as he made his way toward the guest wing.
He needed to see her again. Needed to be near her.
Not because he was soft.
But because the bond had already begun to bind his soul to hers.
And no matter how much blood it took…
Darrian would never let anyone hurt her again.
Darrian pushed open the door to the guest chamber.
The scent of her hit him like a wave—warm and raw and unmistakably hers. He inhaled, letting it settle his wolf, who had been restless and snarling ever since they found her.
Heather.
That's what Elias had learned her name was—whispers from the patrol who'd seen her crawling across the border before collapsing. Just a name, but even that felt sacred now. Fragile. Dangerous.
She lay pale and still in the oversized bed, swaddled in linen sheets, her chest rising in shallow, uneven breaths. The bandages on her side were soaked with blood. Her hair—tangled and dark with sweat—clung to her face.
Darrian approached slowly, kneeling beside her.
"You should have died," he murmured.
His voice came out quieter than he expected, rough with something he didn't recognize.
"You crossed silver, magic wards, a cursed border…" He trailed off, reaching out but stopping just before his fingers brushed her cheek. He was terrified to touch her again. Terrified of how it made him feel.
She whimpered in her sleep. Her body jerked.
A nightmare.
Darrian cursed under his breath and sat on the edge of the bed. "Easy," he said, lowering his tone, letting the Alpha command bleed into his words. "You're not there anymore."
But she didn't settle.
Her fingers twitched. Her lips parted, cracked and trembling.
He couldn't take it.
He touched her hand—lightly, just enough to ground her.
Her body stilled.
Darrian's wolf surged forward, pushing against the restraints he held tight for so long. His instincts howled: Claim. Protect. Destroy whoever touched her.
But he wasn't just a wolf. He was an Alpha. A king among monsters. And kings didn't break for anything.
Except maybe this girl.
Maybe this broken little flame who had crawled across death itself to escape whatever hell she'd been living in.
Darrian leaned closer, his voice low and fierce.
"I don't know what Marcus did to you. But I promise you this—he'll pay for every mark. Every bruise. Every drop of blood."
His eyes darkened to black, ringed with glowing amber.
"And if you'll let me… I'll show you what it means to be safe."
Not soft.
Not saved.
But safe—with him.
She stirred again, lips parting.
This time she whispered a word.
Not a cry for help.
Not a name.
Just one, rasping word, barely audible.
"Mine…"
Darrian stilled.
His heart pounded.
She didn't know what she was saying. Didn't even know he was there.
But the bond didn't lie.
He was hers.
And whether she wanted him or not…
Darrian knew one thing for certain—
No one would ever touch her again.
Not unless they wanted to die.