A human queen? A human enduring the brutal politics of shifter nobility?
Let them think what they wanted. He would not debate Faith’s worthiness while she lay unconscious in his arms.
“This ceremony is concluded,” Kovrak declared, his tone brooking no argument. His gaze swept the assembled crowd with regal authority. “Merral, see it finished.”
Before Varrek could reshape the moment into something else, before the whispers could crystallize into something dangerous, Kovrak turned his back on the crowd and strode toward the palace entrance.
He felt every stare against his spine like physical weight. Felt the press of speculation. They knew what this meant—their prince was finally consumed by something stronger than duty.
The sanctuary of Kovrak’s private chambers soon enveloped them in blessed silence, the chaos of the ceremony dissolving into memory as he crossed the threshold with Faith cradled against his chest. The heavy door sealed behind them as he kicked it shut, cutting away the hundreds of staring eyes and the poison of Varrek’s insinuations.
Here, in this space that belonged to him alone, the world contracted to essential truths: the woman in his arms, the steady rhythm of her breathing, and the protective fury still coursing through his veins like molten steel.
He had never abandoned a ceremony before. Never concluded one barely begun. Twenty years of flawless protocol shattered in the space of a heartbeat because his mate needed him more than tradition demanded his presence.
The realization settled deeper with each step toward his bed, a bone-deep certainty that rewrote every priority he’d held sacred.
Kovrak lowered Faith onto the midnight-blue coverlet with the reverence reserved for something infinitely precious. Her hair spilled across his pillow like dark silk, and the sight of her there—in his bed, surrounded by his scent, claimed by proximity if nothing else—struck him with unexpected force.
Mine.
His tiger rumbled approval at the rightness of it, the way she looked nestled among his things as if she’d always belonged there. Only after she was settled did the intimacy of his choice register fully. He should have carried her to her suite, should have summoned Liora to tend her properly.
But instinct had overridden logic, and his feet had carried him here without conscious thought. To his sanctuary. To the one place where he could guard her completely.
Did I push too hard this morning?
The question gnawed at him as he studied her pale features. Perhaps his honesty about the mating expectations had been too much, too soon. Perhaps introducing her to the pride as his companion had overwhelmed her with the weight of their scrutiny.
She had chosen to stay—but maybe the true cost of that choice was only now becoming clear. Maybe she would wake and decide this world demanded more than she was willing to give.
The thought clawed deeper than any of Varrek’s carefully aimed barbs. He couldn’t lose her. Not when he’d barely convinced her to stay hours earlier, not when his tiger had finally found its other half.
Kovrak moved to his bathroom with predatory grace, dampening a cloth in cool water before returning to her side. The bed dipped slightly under his weight as he settled besideher, close enough to catch her if she stirred but careful not to crowd.
He pressed the cloth gently to her brow, watching for any sign of awareness. Her skin felt warm beneath the cool fabric, no longer the alarming pallor that had sent panic racing through his system.
Her lashes fluttered at the sensation, dark crescents lifting to reveal those warm brown eyes he’d been drowning in since yesterday. Confusion clouded her gaze for a heartbeat before awareness settled in, sharp and immediate.
She stiffened slightly when she realized where she was—his bed, his chambers, his scent surrounding her like a claim. But the emotion that flickered across her face wasn’t fear or regret.
Embarrassment. As if fainting had somehow diminished her in his eyes.
Relief loosened something tight in his chest. She wasn’t pulling away. Wasn’t demanding to leave. The fire that had drawn him from the first moment still burned steady in her gaze.
“You fainted,” he said quietly. His thumb brushed once across her cheek before he caught himself. “You will rest today.”
She studied him with that penetrating intensity that seemed to see straight through his carefully maintained facade.
“I didn’t come here to lounge around.”
The stubborn certainty in her voice surprised rough laughter from him. There she was—his relentless, unbreakable mate, already planning her next move instead of wallowing in what had happened.
Definitely mine.
She pushed herself upright despite his instinctive protest, already speaking of kitchens and ovens and festival desserts with the focused intensity he was beginning to recognize as purely Faith. She worried about lost time, about not having preparedsomething for opening day, about proving herself worthy of the commission.
He saw her strength then—not the fragility Varrek had implied, but the steel spine that had carried her through years of standing on her own. The determination that had built a bakery from nothing.