Nothing mattered except this. His arms around her. His purr in her bones. The slow unclenching of tension she’d been carrying for so long she’d forgotten it was there.
And against all reason, against every survival instinct she possessed, Elsa let herself believe it might be okay. Let him take care of her.
Let herself be his pet.
At least for tonight.
15
Sylas
The council chamber reeked of ambition.
Sylas stood at the head of the obsidian table, claws clicking an idle rhythm against its surface while his advisors filed in. Morning light cut through the high windows in pale shafts, illuminating the carved maps beneath his palms—territorial boundaries marked in Moon Tear dust that pulsed faint blue even in daylight.
Three days since the installation. Three days since the grid had stabilized, since the eastern quadrant’s defenses had locked into place, since villages that had been vulnerable to Fallen incursions could finally sleep without guards posted at every entrance.
Three days since Elsa had slept in his nest.
She was still there. Still curled among his furs each night, her small body pressed against his, her scent wrapping around him like a promise he hadn’t made but couldn’t refuse. He’d meant to move her back to the Luna’s chamber—strategic distance,political prudence, all the calculations an Alpha King should make.
Instead, he’d watched her sleep. Breathed her in. Let her presence quiet the Moon Tear energy that buzzed through his veins like caged lightning.
Weakness, his king’s mind whispered.
Ours, his beast snarled back.
The council was assembling. Vask had arrived early—always a warning sign—and now occupied his usual seat with the kind of stillness that preceded violence. Torvak from the western patrols. Three minor lords whose territories bordered the storm-woods. The Lux Priest, white fur stark against dark stone, his expression unreadable.
And Xar.
The Lux Knight captain had positioned himself near the door, green eyes tracking everyone who entered. His dark fur gleamed with the attention of recent grooming, and something in his posture set Sylas’s hackles on edge.
Too confident. Too still. Like a predator who’d already cornered his prey and was simply waiting for the right moment to strike.
Ryxin entered last, flanked by two of his personal guard. He took his position at Sylas’s right without ceremony, but his cyan eyes swept the room with the same wariness Sylas felt coiling in his own chest.
Something’s coming.
“Begin.” Sylas kept his voice flat, betraying nothing. “The grid status?”
The Lux Priest rose, datapad in hand. “Stable. Better than stable—the eastern quadrant is operating at ninety-three percent capacity. Higher than any readings we’ve recorded in two decades.” His amber eyes flickered with something betweenreverence and concern. “The core’s purity continues to exceed all expectations.”
Murmurs rippled around the table. Approval. Relief. The kind of cautious optimism that came from people who’d grown accustomed to bad news.
“The Fallen incursions?” Torvak asked.
“Down sixty percent since installation.” The priest scrolled through his data. “The reinforced grid creates a stronger deterrent. Those that approach the boundaries are...dissuaded.”
Dissuaded.A polite word for the energy barriers that fried anything without proper shielding. Sylas had watched Fallen throw themselves against those barriers during his father’s reign—watched them burn until nothing remained but ash and the stench of scorched fur.
Necessary. Brutal. The cost of keeping his people safe from what they might become.
“Good news, then.” Vask’s voice slid through the chamber like oil. “The human wreck proved useful after all. And the humans themselves?”
The shift in topic was deliberate. Pointed.
Sylas didn’t rise to the bait. “The female Mia continues assisting Healer Yarx. Her work has been adequate.”