She wasn’t steering away anymore.
Tonight, she would run straight into the most dangerous thing on this planet. And she would make him earn every step.
From somewhere deep in the fortress, she felt a vibration—not sound, but resonance, as if the mountain itself had shifted in its sleep. The Lux Tear veins in the walls flared brighter, their golden pulse quickening.
Kira’s head turned toward the inner door. Her nostrils flared.
“He’s coming.”
The other four Sabers moved without instruction—gathering the empty oil basins, stowing the remaining supplies in the carved chest, clearing every trace of the preparations until only Elsa remained at the room’s center. White and crimson and silver chains, standing on stone that had witnessed a thousand such nights and the females who’d survived them.
Kira was the last to move. She paused at the chamber’s threshold, glancing back at Elsa with an expression that held no softness but carried something deeper.
“When the doors open, run. Run like the navigator you are—read the terrain, use the wind, trust your instincts.” Her scarred ear twitched. “But remember: the females whose names are carved in those halls didn’t survive by being faster than their Alphas. They survived by being smarter.” A ghost of something—approval, maybe, or anticipation—crossed her features. “I expect to carve yours.”
She vanished through the inner door, and it sealed behind her.
Elsa stood alone in the Luna room. The golden light wrapped around her, warm and constant, the Frosted Tears humming against her skin. Through the bond, Sylas’s presence bore down like weather—a storm system building on the horizon, the air charged and waiting.
The obsidian doors at the far end of the chamber began to shift. Stone grating against stone, ancient mechanisms stirring to life.
Elsa pulled her shoulders back. Adjusted the crimson cape. Felt the silver chains catch the light in her braided hair.
The doors opened.
And the Alpha King stepped through.
37
Sylas
The summons came as the sun began its descent.
A Lux Saber appeared at his chamber door—one of the elite females sworn to protect future Lunas, her armor gleaming with ceremonial polish. She bent her head in deference, exposing the vulnerable line of her throat.
“The preparations are complete, my King. Your mate awaits in the Luna room.”
Your mate. The words hit differently now. Not a political designation. Not a strategic alliance. Something primal and possessive that curled around his heart and refused to let go.
“Lead the way.”
The Luna room occupied the oldest wing of the fortress, carved into the mountain’s heart where the Lux Tear veins ran thickest. The corridor leading to it grew darker as they descended, the walls narrowing until Sylas’s shoulders nearly brushed both sides. He could feel the sacred space calling to his blood, awakening something ancient and hungry.
His wristband pulsed in response—the Moon Tear embedded in its center resonating with the concentrated energy around them. The deeper they went, the stronger the pull became. Like the mountain itself was breathing, waiting, watching.
The Lux Saber stopped before doors carved from solid obsidian, their surface etched with symbols older than the fortress itself. Prayers to Lux. Blessings for fertility. Warnings for those who entered without purpose.
“Beyond here, only you and your chosen may enter.” The Saber stepped aside. “May Lux bless your hunt, Alpha King.”
Sylas pressed his palms to the doors. The obsidian was warm beneath his pads, almost alive, and when he pushed, they swung inward without sound.
The Luna room glowed.
Lux Tear veins threaded through every surface—floor, walls, ceiling—their light soft pulsed between golden and teal, casting everything in shades of honey and icy blue. The air was thick with warmth and fragrance, so overwhelming that Sylas had to stop in the threshold to steady himself.
Frosted Tears.
The sacred oil derived from the nightbloom flowers that only appeared when the Mother Moon drew close to the horizon. Sweet and heady, it was said to drive males to madness and bind mates together across any distance. He’d smelled it before—in small doses, ceremonial amounts meant to honor Lux at formal gatherings—and whenever his pet was aroused.