“Faith Woodard. You have already claimed my soul as your mate. Now, I ask you to claim my world.” He drew a pained, deliberate breath. “Will you marry me? Will you stand beside me, not just in my heart, but before my people? Will you be my queen?”
The world narrowed to the arch of blossoms, the powerful tiger shifter in the wheelchair who ruled a kingdom on an alien planet but was asking for her human hand, and the ring that held a dynasty’s hope.
There was no hesitation. The answer had lived inside her for days.
Tears spilled over, tracing warm paths down her cheeks. She didn’t bother to wipe them away.
“Yes.” The word was a vow, clear and certain. “Yes, Kovrak. I will be your queen.”
She set the plate carefully on a stone bench and closed the distance between them. Leaning down, she cupped his face with her right hand, her thumb brushing the tension from his jaw as he placed the ring on her left finger. Then she kissed him, pouring into it every ounce of love, relief, and fierce, joyous certainty that roared through her soul. It was careful, mindful of his injury, but deep and fervent. She could feel the echo of his own emotion through their completed bond—a torrent of possessiveness, devotion, and a triumphant satisfaction that she was irrevocably his.
When she finally pulled back, breathless, she retrieved the pastry. She placed it gently in his lap.
“Taste it,” she whispered.
He broke off a piece, the delicate crust shattering. He closed his eyes as he tasted it. Then a low sound vibrated in his throat. His eyes opened, locking on hers with a heat that belied his pallor.
“Fire and sweetness indeed,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Perfectly balanced. It tastes exactly like us.”
TWENTY
KOVRAK
Sunlight spilled through the tall windows of Kovrak’s private chambers, painting everything in liquid gold. He woke to the quiet rhythm of Faith’s breathing and her solid warmth against his side. Even before he tested the muscles of his abdomen, he knew he was healing with a speed that had baffled the royal healers. The deep puncture wound in his side pulled with a dull, bearable ache, but the searing fire was gone.
The completed mate bond thrummed beneath his skin, a living current of shared vitality. He was certain it was knitting him back together, cell by cell. Love, it seemed, was the most potent medicine he’d ever known.
For two days, Faith had been his unwavering sun. Bringing him meals in bed, rearranging pillows with a scowl when he tried to sit up too fast, and arguing with that stubborn set to her jaw when he mentioned royal duties. It was the same fierce care he’d shown her after the fire, and the symmetry of it humbled him deeply.
He’d been raised on a throne of solitary strength, taught that needing was a flaw in a ruler. Yet here was this woman, this human baker from another world, standing not behind him but beside him. She balanced his fire with her steadiness andsoftened his hardest edges without diminishing an ounce of his power. He’d never felt incomplete before her. But now, the idea of his old life felt like a hollow echo. With her, he was whole. And he knew, through the bond, she felt the same.
“You’re thinking too loudly.” Her voice was sleep-rough and muffled against his shoulder. One hand shifted, her palm resting possessively over his bandaged side. “It woke me up.”
A low rumble of laughter escaped him. He turned his head on the pillow, drinking in the sight of her—her hair fanned out, her lips slightly parted, and the morning light gilding her skin. The connection between them was so profound, so loud in its silence, it was a miracle the entire palace couldn’t feel it.
“My apologies. Your presence tends to… inspire thought.”
She cracked one eye open, a smile playing on her lips. “Dangerous habit for a future king.” She stretched, the movement making the sheet dip. “We need to start planning. The wedding is in two weeks. We have a kingdom to reassure, invitations to send, a cake to design…”
“All in due time.” He caught her wandering hand, bringing her knuckles to his lips. The antique ring he’d placed there two days ago—his mother’s ring—felt like it had always belonged. “The kingdom can wait one more morning. I want to savor my fiancée.”
The word,fiancée, sent a fresh, fierce bolt of possession through him. His tiger preened. His future stretched before him not as a burden, but as a thrilling landscape to explore with her. Shared decisions. Shared burdens. Shared victories. Ruling without her was now not just undesirable, but an impossibility his mind refused to compute.
The sharp, melodic chime of his phone shattered the quiet. Gerri’s name flashed on the screen. He exchanged a glance with Faith, who propped herself up on an elbow, curiosity sharpening her sleep-softened features. He answered, putting it on speaker.
“Good morning! And I do hope I’m speaking to both of you,” Gerri’s voice bubbled through, bright and knowing. “Just checking in. The festival week is technically concluded, and my sources tell me there was some… unforeseen chaos. Is everything resolved?”
Kovrak kept his voice measured. “The challenge has been permanently dealt with. The pride is unified. The Auryx territory stands steady.” He paused, his thumb stroking Faith’s wrist. “The outcome was better than I could have imagined.”
A pleased, humming sound came from the device. “I do love a happy ending. It’s so much tidier than the alternatives.” A beat of silence, then her tone shifted to breezy business. “Which brings me to the practicalities. Faith, darling, your contractual week is up. Are you ready for me to arrange your transport back to Earth? I can have a portal opened within the hour.”
The question landed like a physical weight in the room. Kovrak’s expression didn’t flicker, but every muscle in his body tightened. He would chain the suns and moons for her, but he would never cage her choice. That was the core of it. She had to stay because she wanted to, not because of a mark or a ring.
Faith leaned closer, her fingers threading through his with a certainty that sent a wave of heat through him. Her voice was calm, clear, and carried the unshakable authority of a queen.
“That won’t be necessary, Gerri. I’m not returning to New Jersey.” She held Kovrak’s gaze as she spoke, her brown eyes blazing. “I’m engaged to Kovrak, and we’re fully bonded now. I’m staying on Nova Aurora as his future queen.”
The surge of emotion that roared through Kovrak was so profound, so violent in its intensity, he had to draw a slow, steadying breath. Pride, triumph, a love so vast it threatened to crack his ribs open—it all flooded the bond, and he saw the answering flush on her skin, felt the quickening of her pulse beneath his thumb.