Transcription
Kora's job is simple. Eat the king's food before he does. And if she dies, the king lives. It is a cruel life, especially when the man she serves is King Valyrias, a ruthless conquering warlord who barely looks at her. Or so she thinks.
One evening during a feast with a rival pack, Kora takes a sip from Valyrias's wine. The bitter taste of wolfsbane coats her tongue. She has seconds before the king drinks from the same chalice. Without thinking, Kora doesn't just warn him. She downs the entire cup herself, ensuring there is not a drop left for him before collapsing on the marble floor in agony.
But the corrupt council twists the truth. While Valyrias is dragged away in the chaos, they accuse Kora of being the assassin. She is thrown into the lowest dungeon, shivering, coughing up blood, waiting for the poison to finish her off.
Three floors above, Valyrias wakes from the sedative his guards gave him. When he realizes what happened, that his quiet, gentle food taster took a lethal dose of poison meant for him. Something inside the warlord snaps. Kora hears the screams echoing down the dungeon stairs. She hears the heavy iron doors being ripped off their hinges. Valarius storms into her cell, his hands covered in the blood of the councilman who dared to lock her away. He falls to his knees, pulling her limp, freezing body against his chest, his alpha aura practically vibrating the stone walls. "Stay with me," he begs, his voice breaking. "Please, mate, stay with me."
Chapter 1.
The great hall smelled of roasted venison, spiced wine, and the sharp, sour tang of alpha aggression. Kora stood perfectly still in the shadows behind the high table, her hands clasped tightly in front of her gray servant's dress. She was supposed to be invisible, a shadow that only materialized when a new dish was set upon the table. Her entire life was measured in bites and sips, a mouthful of bread, a taste of honeyed pheasant, a swallow of ale, and then the agonizing, breathless pause to see if her throat would close, if her stomach would seize, if today was the day she died so the king could live. It was a terrifying existence, but for a wolfless orphan with no pack and no name, it was the only existence she was allowed.
"More wine!" a voice boomed, rattling the crystal goblets. Kora's eyes darted to the center of the table. "King Valyrias, the warlord of the Obsidian Peaks." He sat slouched in his massive iron wrought chair, draped in dark furs, looking every inch the feral conqueror the rumors claimed he was. He was terrifyingly beautiful. Broadshouldered with jaw lines that looked carved from stone and eyes the color of a winter storm. Everyone in the hall was terrified of him. The visiting diplomats from the riverpack were sweating through their fine silks just sitting in his presence.
But Kora wasn't terrified. Not exactly. Because sometimes when the court was completely distracted, Kora would feel the sudden heavy weight of a gaze on her skin. She would look up through her lashes and Valyrias would be watching her, not with the cold, dead eyes of a killer, but with an intensity that made her pulse hammer wildly against her ribs and his scent. As a wolfless human, her senses were dull, but she could always smell him. Woodsmoke, pine, and something deeply inherently male. Whenever she stepped close to taste his food, that scent would spike. It would wrap around her like a heavy, warm blanket. She told herself it was just the natural dominance of an alpha. She told herself she was being foolish. Kings did not notice poison tasters.
"A toast," Lord Malcolm, the king's lead counselor, announced, standing up with a sweeping gesture. "To our new allies, the Riverpac, and to King Valyrias, long may he reign." The servants rushed forward, carrying an ornate jewel encrusted chalice. It was a ceremonial cup filled with a rare dark crimson vintage meant only for the king. The servant placed the chalice in front of Valyrias. The king didn't reach for it. He didn't even look at the diplomats. He simply leaned back, his storm gray eyes flicking to the shadows. "To her," he commanded. "Taster." The word was a low, vibrating rumble that sent a shiver straight down Kora's spine.
She stepped out of the shadows, keeping her head bowed. The marble floor was cold beneath her thin shoes. She could feel the snears of the visiting lords, the disgust of the councilmen. Worthless, their eyes said, expendable. But as she reached the king's side, the air shifted. The oppressive, terrifying aura that Valyrias projected over the room completely vanished around her. For a two-foot radius, the air was just warm, safe. She reached for the heavy chalice with trembling fingers. Valyrias was so close she could see the faint pulse beating at the base of his throat. He was watching her hands. "Careful," he murmured so quietly that only she could hear it. "It's heavy."
Kora swallowed hard, nodding once. She lifted the chalice to her lips. She closed her eyes, preparing for the familiar acidic burn of strong wine. She took a sip, and her entire world stopped. It wasn't wine, or rather, it was wine masking something entirely different. The liquid hit her tongue with a sharp, paralyzing bitterness. It tasted like ash and crushed metal. The numbness coated the roof of her mouth instantly, sliding down the back of her throat like jagged glass. Wolfsbane, concentrated, lethal black root wolfsbane. Pure poison. A dose this concentrated wouldn't just make an alpha sick. It would stop his heart in minutes.
Kora's eyes flew open, her breath hitched. Across the table, she saw Lord Malcolm watching her, his eyes narrowed, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his dagger. He knew the council had done this. They were trying to assassinate their own king. "Well, girl," Lord Malcolm prompted, his voice tight. "Is the vintage to his majesty's liking?"
Valyrias reached out, his massive scarred hand coming to take the chalice from her. "Thank you, Kora," the king said. He actually knew her name. The realization hit her like a physical blow. He knew her name. He was going to drink. He was going to die. She had seconds, less than seconds. If she dropped the cup, the council would claim it was an accident and they would just try again tomorrow. If she screamed poison, the guards loyal to Lord Malcolm would draw their swords and slaughter Valyrias before he could shift. She looked at the warlord, at the storm gray eyes that had always softened just for a fraction of a second when he looked at her. I'm a nobody, Kora thought. But he is a king.
She didn't hand him the chalice. Instead, she took a step back, raised the heavy golden cup to her lips, and drank. She didn't just take a sip. She tilted her head back and swallowed every single drop of the thick, burning poison, draining the chalice dry.
"What the hell are you doing?" Lord Malcolm shouted, leaping to his feet. Cora lowered the empty cup, her hands were already shaking violently. Her vision blurred at the edges, the room tilting sideways. She looked at Valyrias. The king was frozen, his hand still extended, staring at her in absolute confusion. "Forgive me, your majesty," Kora choked out, the words scraping against her ruined throat. "I was thirsty."
And then the fire hit her stomach. It felt like swallowing live coals. A scream ripped itself from her throat, raw and agonizing. The heavy golden chalice slipped from her fingers, hitting the marble floor with a deafening clang. Kora's knees buckled. She didn't hit the stone. Massive hands caught her before she fell. Valyrias was out of his chair, dropping to his knees on the dais, catching her against his chest. "Kora!" he roared. The sound wasn't human. It was a feral, earthshattering sound of pure panic.
"Poison!" Lord Malcolm yelled over the chaos, drawing his sword. "The taster tried to poison the king. Seize her. Protect the warlord." The hall erupted into madness. Guards rushed the dais, but Kora couldn't see them. Her vision was tunneling into blackness. She could only feel Valyrias. He was holding her so tightly it hurt, his massive body trembling. "Healers," the king bellowed, his voice cracking. "Get the healers now." He pressed two fingers to her neck, feeling her pulse stutter and fail. "Ka, look at me. Open your eyes. Look at me." She tried. She really did. But the blood was bubbling up in the back of her throat, warm and metallic. She coughed, spraying crimson across his pristine white shirt. Valyrias let out a choked, devastated sound. His eyes were shifting, the storm gray burning away, replaced by the terrifying glowing gold of his inner wolf. The wolf who realized exactly one second too late that the girl bleeding out in his arms was his faded mate. "I've got you," Valyrias growled, scooping her up into his arms, his aura exploding across the room in a wave of violent, suffocating pressure. "You're going to be fine. I swear to you." Something hit the king from behind, a heavy, blunt force. "Get the king to safety. He's been compromised," Lord Malcolm shouted. Kora felt Valyrias's grip go slack as a sedative dart thick as a man's thumb was driven into his neck by his own guards. The warlord roared, trying to hold on to her, fighting the drug with feral desperation, but there were too many of them. They tore her from his arms. The last thing Kora saw before the darkness swallowed her completely was the terrifying Alpha King of the Obsidian Peaks, fighting six armed guards to get back to her. His golden eyes locked on hers, screaming her name.
Chapter 2.
The lowest level of the Obsidian dungeons didn't just feel cold. It felt like the absence of life. Kora lay on the damp stone floor, her body trembling so violently her teeth chattered. Every breath she took felt like inhaling shattered glass. The wolfsbane was in her blood now, burning through her veins like black fire, slowly shutting down her organs one by one. She curled into a tight ball, pressing her hands against her stomach. It was completely dark, save for a single flickering torch in the corridor. Footsteps echoed against the stone, slow and deliberate. A shadow fell over the iron bars of her cell. Lord Malcolm stood there, wiping a speck of dust from his velvet coat, looking down at her with absolute disgust.
"Still breathing, little rat," he sneered. Cora coughed, a wet, rattling sound, and spat a mouthful of dark blood onto the stones. She didn't have the strength to speak. "It's a shame," Malcolm continued, his voice echoing in the silence. "The poison was meant for the warlord. But I suppose a dead food taster serves our purposes just as well. The council has already declared you a rebel spy."
Kora squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't care about the council. She didn't care about her own reputation. "The king," she rasped, the words tearing her throat.
Malcolm laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Oh, the king is heavily sedated in his chambers. When he wakes, we will tell him his little servant girl tried to assassinate him and then succumb to her own poison. He will likely spit on your grave himself." Malcolm turned and walked away, his footsteps fading into the dark. Cora let out a ragged breath. "Let him think I'm a traitor," she thought, the numbness creeping up her fingertips. "As long as he lives, as long as he's safe." She let her eyes drift closed, waiting for the dark to finally take her.
But the dark didn't take her. Instead, the air in the dungeon changed. It didn't happen slowly. It happened all at once. The atmospheric pressure plummeted. The rats scurrying in the corners suddenly froze, then scrambled frantically into the cracks in the walls. It became physically difficult to breathe. A heavy, suffocating alpha aura rolled down the stone stairs like an avalanche. And then came the screaming. Not a scream of pain, but a scream of absolute mindshattering terror. "Hold the line!" a guard commanded upstairs. The command was cut off by the sickening sound of metal tearing through armor, followed by a heavy thud.
Kora forced her eyes open. The ground beneath her cheek was literally vibrating. The clash of steel, the frantic shouting of the council's guards, and underneath it all, a roar. It was a feral, earthshattering sound of pure, unhinged violence. It wasn't the sound of a king. It was the sound of a monster whose mate had been taken. The heavy reinforced iron door at the top of the dungeon stairs didn't open. It blew completely off its hinges, crashing into the stone wall with a spark of violent friction. Heavy boots took the stairs three at a time. The scent hit Kora before she saw him. Pine, woods, smoke, and the sharp metallic tang of fresh blood. King Valyrias stepped into the torch light. Kora's breath caught. He was a nightmare. His pristine white shirt was soaked in crimson. His broad chest was heaving, his claws fully extended, and his eyes were no longer storm gray. They were burning, incandescent gold. He looked left, then right, a predator hunting in the dark. Then his golden eyes locked onto her cell. The feral, bloodthirsty rage instantly vanished from his face, replaced by a look of such raw, devastating panic that it made Kora's broken heart ache.
"Kora!" he breathed. He crossed the corridor in a fraction of a second. He didn't bother looking for the keys. Valyrias grabbed the thick iron bars of her cell with his bare hands. The muscles in his back and shoulders coiled, bulging against his ruined shirt, and with a guttural snarl, he wrenched the bars apart. The iron groaned, bending outward until there was enough space for his massive frame to step through. He dropped to his knees on the filthy floor. "No, no, no," he chanted, his voice breaking as he scooped her limp, freezing body into his arms. The contrast in temperature was shocking. Kora was like ice, but Valyrias was a furnace, his skin radiating the fever heat of a fully shifted alpha. He pulled her flush against his chest, burying his face in her hair. "You're freezing!" he choked out, his massive hands trembling as they cradled her face. "Gods, Kora, look at me."
She forced her heavy eyelids open. His face was inches from hers, his golden eyes bright with unshed tears. "You're alive," she whispered, a faint bloody smile touching her lips. "You didn't drink it."
Valyrias let out a sound that was half sob, half growl. "You drank it for me," he said, his voice entirely wrecked. "You foolish, perfect, brave girl. Why would you do that? Why didn't you just let me die?"
Kora leaned her cheek into his warm, calloused palm. "Because you are the king," she murmured. "And I... I am nobody. You are my mate."
Valyrias roared, the words echoing off the dungeon walls, vibrating with centuries of ancient magic. The confession hung in the cold air, raw and desperate. Kora froze. Her heart gave a weak, erratic flutter. "Mate, I knew the moment you took the cup," Valyrias confessed, tears finally spilling over his scarred cheeks. "And then I had to watch you die for me." He didn't hesitate. "I won't let you go," he swore. "The bond shares everything, even life." He brought his own wrist to his mouth, his fangs extending, and bit down hard. Blood welled up dark and thick with alpha healing magic. He pressed his bleeding wrist to her lips. "Drink, Kora, please."
She was too weak to argue. The warm metallic liquid slid down her throat, and the moment she swallowed, the mate bond, the connection they had been dancing around for months, finally violently snapped into full existence. A golden thread of pure energy erupted in her chest, pushing back the black ice of the poison. Kora gasped, her back arching as Valyrias's life force flooded her veins. The pain receded, washed away by the overwhelming, intoxicating warmth of his soul wrapping around hers. She could feel him now. She could feel his absolute terror, his consuming guilt, and underneath it all, an obsessive, world-ending love. Her breathing evened out. Color returned to her pale cheeks. Valyrias pulled his wrist away, his chest heaving as he watched her eyes focus. "Valyrias," she breathed, the name tasting like a prayer. He collapsed forward, pressing his forehead against hers, wrapping his arms around her so tightly she could barely breathe. But she didn't want to breathe. She wanted to stay right here forever.
"They put you in a cage," the king snarled softly against her skin, his voice dropping to a lethal vibrating purr. He pressed a kiss to her temple, then to her jaw, then to her bloodstained lips. "They put my mate in a cage." He lifted his head and the burning gold in his eyes was fixed on the dungeon door. "Rest now, my queen," he whispered, standing up with her perfectly cradled against his chest. "I am going to put them in the ground."
Chapter 3.
In the great hall, Lord Malcolm was already wearing the king's signet ring. He stood at the head of the long table, a smug, practiced look of sorrow plastered across his face as he addressed the terrified nobles. "It is a tragedy," Malcolm announced, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. "The king remains unconscious. The healers fear the shock of the assassination attempt has broken his mind." The visiting diplomats murmured nervously. Malcolm raised his hands for silence. "But fear not, the assassin, that treacherous food taster, has been dealt with in the dungeons." As acting regent, I will ensure he never finished the sentence.
The temperature in the great hall plummeted so fast that frost began to form on the edges of the crystal goblets. The heavy oak double doors at the far end of the room didn't just open. They shattered inward, splintering into a thousand pieces of shrapnel that rained across the marble floor. The hall went dead silent. The smoke from the torches flickered wildly. And stepping through the ruined doorway was the nightmare of the Obsidian Peaks. King Valyrias. His white shirt was soaked in crimson blood. His jaw was clenched so tight a muscle ticked erratically beneath his scar. His eyes were not gray. They were a burning incandescent gold that illuminated the shadows around him. But it wasn't the king's feral appearance that made the court stop breathing. It was what he was carrying. Pressed securely against his massive chest, wrapped completely in his heavy furlined royal cloak, was Kora. She was pale, her dress stained with blood, but her eyes were open, and her arms were wrapped tightly around the warlord's neck.
Malcolm went completely white. The signet ring slipped from his trembling finger and clattered onto the table. Valyrias didn't look at him. He didn't look at anyone. The king stalked down the center aisle, his alpha aura rolling off him in suffocating waves. Guards dropped to their knees, gasping for air. Nobles pressed themselves against the walls, terrified to even make eye contact. Valyrias walked straight up the steps of the dais to the massive iron wrought throne. But he didn't sit down. With agonizing, devastating gentleness, the feral warlord lowered Kora onto the velvet cushions of his own throne. He pulled the fur cloak tighter around her shoulders, his massive hands lingering on her collarbone. Then, in front of the entire stunned court, the ruthless conqueror of the north dropped to one knee at the feet of a servant girl.
"Are you warm enough?" Valyrias murmured, his voice a low, vibrating purr that Kora felt all the way down to her toes. She nodded, her heart hammering against her ribs, completely overwhelmed by the bond humming between them. "I'm safe," she whispered. "Yes," Valyrias breathed, pressing a kiss to her scarred knuckles. "You are." He held her hand for one second longer. Then he stood up, and the tenderness vanished from his face like a blown out candle. He turned slowly to face the room. The golden fire in his eyes locked onto Lord Malcolm.
"Your... your majesty," Malcolm stammered, backing away from the table, his hands raised. "Thank the gods you are awake. That girl, she is the assassin. She drank the poison to hide the evidence. She..."
Valyrias moved faster than the human eye could track. There was a blur of motion, a rush of displaced air, and suddenly the king was standing directly in front of Malcolm. His massive hand shot out, wrapping entirely around the counselor's throat, lifting the grown man off his feet with one arm as if he weighed nothing. "You dare speak her name?" Valyrias growled. The sound wasn't human. It rattled the weapons hanging on the walls. Malcolm kicked his legs frantically, his face turning purple, choking for air. "You put wolfsbane in my cup," the king snarled, his voice deathly quiet now, loud enough for only the terrified court to hear. "And my mate drank it to save my life."
A collective gasp rippled through the hall. "Mate!" The word hit the nobles like a physical blow. The girl in the servant's dress wasn't an assassin. She was the luna, the other half of the warlord's soul. And they had thrown her in a cage to die. "You threw my world into a freezing cell," Valyrias continued, his grip tightening. "You made her bleed. You made her cry." Malcolm clawed at the king's arm, his eyes rolling back. "Please," he gurgled. "Mercy!"
Valyrias tilted his head, his expression completely blank. "My mate is merciful. I am not." With a sharp, sickening crack, the king twisted his wrist. It was over in a second. Valyrias dropped the lifeless body of the traitor onto the marble floor. He didn't even look at it. He pulled the linen cloth from the table, calmly wiped the blood from his hands, and turned his glowing golden eyes to the rest of the council. "If any man or woman in this room ever looks at my queen with anything less than absolute reverence," the king announced, his voice echoing with lethal promise. "I will not bother with the dungeons. I will burn you where you stand. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, your majesty." The entire hall chorused, every single person dropping into a deep, trembling bow. Valyrias didn't care about their submission. His chest heaved as he turned his back on them, his gaze immediately finding Kora on the throne. The feral violence melted off him the second their eyes met. He walked back up the steps, completely ignoring the blood on his shirt, and knelt beside her again. Through the bond, Kora felt his exhaustion, his lingering terror from the dungeon, and his desperate need to simply hold her. She didn't wait for him to ask. She slid off the velvet cushions and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, burying her face in the crook of his neck. Valyrias let out a shattered breath, his massive arms coming around her waist, burying his face in her hair right there in front of everyone. "I've got you," Kora whispered, running her fingers through his dark hair, feeling the violent tremors racking his massive frame slowly begin to subside. "I'm right here."
Valyrias closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of her, the scent of his life, his mate, his everything. "And I am never, ever letting you go."
Chapter 4.
Valyrias carried her through the sprawling corridors of the Obsidian Palace as if she weighed no more than a feather. Behind them, the great hall was a tomb of terrified silence, but Kora barely registered it. Her entire world had narrowed to the steady, thundering beat of the alpha king's heart beneath her ear, and the intoxicating scent of pine and wood smoke that wrapped around her like a shield. Guards threw open the heavy oak doors to the royal wing, bowing so low their foreheads nearly touched the stone. Valyrias didn't spare them a glance. He kicked the doors to his private chambers shut behind them, the heavy thud severing them from the rest of the world. The king's chambers were massive, all dark carved wood, deep velvet tapestries, and a roaring fire that cast the room in a warm golden glow. Valyrias crossed straight to the enormous fourposter bed in the center of the room. He laid Kora down against the black silk sheets with a gentleness that made her breath catch. She immediately tried to sit up, her hands gripping the ruined, bloodstained fabric of her servant's dress. "Your Majesty, wait!" she rasped, her voice still raw from the poison. "I'm filthy. I'll ruin the silk."
Valyrias froze. The golden light in his eyes flared, not with anger, but with a devastating, agonizing sorrow. "I would burn this bed to ashes if it kept you warm for a single minute," he said, his voice a rough, broken rumble. He knelt beside the mattress, his massive hands hovering over her as if he was terrified he might break her. "You will never apologize for taking up space in my life again. Do you understand me, Kora?" She swallowed hard, tears prickling the corners of her eyes and nodded.
A hesitant knock sounded at the door. "Your majesty," a trembling voice called out. "The royal healers have arrived."
Valyrias's jaw clenched. A low, territorial growl vibrated deep in his chest. After the council's betrayal, his wolf was pushed right to the surface, refusing to let anyone near his mate. "Send them away," Valyrias barked, his alpha command, leaving no room for argument. "Leave fresh water, bandages, and my personal salves at the door. Anyone who enters this room without my permission loses their head." Footsteps hastily retreated down the hall.
Valyrias retrieved a basin of steaming water and a soft linen cloth. He returned to the bed, sitting gently on the edge, so the mattress dipped under his immense weight. "May I?" he asked softly, his eyes searching hers for permission. Kora's heart hammered. This was the most feared warlord on the continent, asking a lowly food taster if he could touch her. "Yes," she whispered. His hands were massive, calloused from years of wielding a broadsword, but they moved over her skin with the reverence of a man handling spun glass. He dipped the cloth in the warm water and carefully, painstakingly began to wipe the dried blood from her chin, her jaw, and her throat. The contrast was overwhelming. The brutal blood-soaked Alpha King, entirely focused on cleaning the soot and terror from her skin. "You are so small," he murmured, his thumb brushing a stray tear from her cheek. "When I saw you fall in the great hall, 'Kaura,' my heart stopped beating, I thought the gods were punishing me."
"You saved me," she reminded him softly, her fingers weakly reaching up to touch his wrist. "Your blood saved me."
Valyrias leaned into her palm, closing his eyes. "It is yours," he swore, his voice dropping to a devout whisper. "My blood, my life, my kingdom, it all belongs to you now." He carefully helped her out of the ruined, stiff servant's dress, wrapping her instead in one of his own sleep shirts. It was comically large on her, the soft, dark fabric slipping off one shoulder, but it smelled entirely of him. The heavy scent of pine and alpha dominance immediately soothed the lingering panic in her chest.
Valyrias turned to the small table beside the bed and poured a goblet of fresh cool water. He brought it to her lips, but as the silver rim touched her mouth, Kora flinched. It was pure instinct, a trauma response. For three years, every cup she had ever been handed held the potential for agonizing death. She squeezed her eyes shut, her body locking up in terror. Valyrias realized his mistake instantly. "Kora, look at me," he said, his voice incredibly soft. She opened her eyes. The terrifying king of the Obsidian Peaks raised the goblet to his own lips and took a long, steady drink. He lowered the cup, holding her gaze. "No more tasting," he promised her, the words landing like a sacred vow. "Never again. You will never eat or drink anything in this world before I have proven it is safe for you."
The absolute devotion in his eyes broke the last of her defenses. A sob tore from her throat. Valyrias brought the cup back to her lips, supporting the back of her head with his large hand, and she drank deeply. The water was cool and sweet. When she finished, the exhaustion of the poison, the healing, and the sheer emotional toll of the day finally crashed over her. She shivered violently, her teeth chattering despite the roaring fire. The black ice of the wolfsbane was gone, but the chill remained in her bones. Valyrias didn't hesitate. He stood, pulling his own ruined, blood-soaked shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor. His bare chest was a map of silver battle scars rippling with heavy muscle in the fire light. He climbed into the massive bed beside her, pulling the thick velvet comforter over them both. He gathered her into his arms, pulling her back flush against his chest. He was a furnace. The scorching heat of a fully shifted alpha radiated from his skin, chasing the cold from her limbs instantly. Kora let out a long, ragged sigh of relief, melting backward into his embrace. Valyrias wrapped his heavy arms around her waist, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He inhaled deeply, his wolf finally settling as he filled his lungs with the scent of his living, breathing mate. "Sleep, my heart," the warlord rumbled against her skin, his chest rising and falling against her back. "I will stand guard, and I promise you, the nightmares will never reach you again." For the first time in her entire life, tucked safely in the arms of the most dangerous man in the world, Kora closed her eyes and knew she was completely, untouchably safe.
Chapter 5.
When Kora woke, the bed was empty, but the indentation on the mattress beside her was still warm. She sat up slowly, clutching the oversized dark silk of Valyrias's shirt to her chest. The fire was still roaring, but the heavy comforting weight of the Alpha King was gone. Panic, sharp and immediate, flared in her chest. Was it a dream? Had she died in the dungeon? But then she breathed in and the rich lingering scent of pine and wood smoke filled her lungs. Mate, her wolfless human soul whispered, the golden thread in her chest humming with warm reassurance. He was real. The bond was real. But as she looked around the sprawling, opulent royal chambers, reality began to set in. She was a food taster, an orphan who didn't even have a last name, and she was sitting in the center of the warlord's bed.
The heavy oak doors clicked open, and Kora flinched, pulling the blankets up to her chin. It wasn't Valyrias. Three highborn ladies-in-waiting swept into the room, their arms draped in fine silks and velvet gowns. They were daughters of dukes and lords, women who possessed their own wolves, women who had spent years vying for the king's attention, and their eyes, as they looked at Kora huddled in the center of the massive bed, were entirely devoid of warmth. "The king has ordered us to bathe and dress you," the eldest, Lady Saraphina, said. Her voice was perfectly polite, but the scent of sour disdain practically rolled off her, "though I suppose anything is an improvement from the rags you usually wear in the kitchens."
Kora's throat tightened. She looked down at her hands, calloused and rough from years of scrubbing pots and gripping poison chalices. "Thank you," Kora murmured, trying to make herself smaller.
Saraphina sneered, stepping closer to the bed. "Do not get too comfortable, little bird," she whispered, ensuring the guards outside couldn't hear. "The king is confused by the trauma of the assassination, a feral alpha's instincts are chaotic. But once his mind clears, do you truly think a warlord will keep a broken, wolfless servant as his lunar?" The words hit Kora like stones. It was every dark, terrified thought she had harbored since she woke up. Saraphina smiled, a cruel, razor-thin smile. "He needs a queen who can command armies, not a rat who eats scraps from his table. Enjoy the silk while it lasts."
Kora's eyes filled with tears. She desperately tried to blink them away. She opened her mouth to reply, but before she could make a sound, the temperature in the room violently plummeted. The fire in the hearth didn't just flicker. It roared, burning a sudden, unnatural blue. The doors blew open so hard the wood cracked. Valyrias stood in the doorway. He was fully dressed now in his dark leather battle armor, looking like the god of war himself. But his storm gray eyes were fixed instantly on Kora. He didn't need to hear the conversation. He could smell her distress. The bitter salty tang of her tears was suffocating his lungs.
"Who?" Valyrias snarled. The word was a low seismic rumble that shook the crystal lamps. The three noble women went completely rigid, the color draining from their faces. The king didn't walk. He stalked into the room, a predator zeroing in on a threat. "I leave my mate for 1 hour to execute the remaining traitors," Valyrias growled, his golden alpha aura pushing the noble women to their knees by sheer physical force. "And I return to find her weeping." He stopped directly in front of Lady Saraphina, towering over her cowering form. "What did you say to her?"
"Nothing, your majesty," Saraphina stammered, her forehead pressed to the floor. "We were merely preparing her garments as you asked."
Valyrias's jaw ticked. He didn't even look down at her. His eyes were entirely on Kora, reading the shame and insecurity written across her pale face. He understood instantly. "Guards," Valyrias commanded. Four massive warriors rushed into the room. "Bring the royal vault now." The room held its breath. Within moments, the guards returned, carrying three massive ironbound chests. They set them at the foot of the bed and popped the locks. Mountains of gold, diamonds, and ancient glowing heirlooms spilled out.
"You think she is beneath you because she served me?" Valyrias finally looked down at the trembling noble women. "You think a crown is what makes a queen?" Valyrias stepped over the chests and climbed onto the mattress. He didn't care about the mud on his boots. He crawled to the center of the bed and pulled Kora into his lap, wrapping his massive armored arms around her small shaking frame. She buried her face in his chest, inhaling his grounding scent of pine and storm. "Look at them," Valyrias whispered into her ear, turning her gently so she faced the cowering women. "Look at the people who think they are better than you." He reached his hand out, using his alpha speed to snatch a massive, breathtaking crown of woven obsidian and diamonds from the nearest chest. It was the Luna's crown, a relic that hadn't been worn in three centuries. With agonizing, painstaking reverence, Valyrias placed the heavy crown onto Kora's tangled hair. He didn't stop there. He reached into the chest again, pulling out heavy necklaces of rubies, slipping thick golden rings onto her callous, working fingers. He weighed her down in the wealth of an entire empire.
"She drank lethal poison without a second of hesitation to save her king," Valyrias boomed, his voice vibrating through the stone floors, ensuring every servant and guard in the corridor heard him. "She has more courage, more honor, and more royal blood in her scarred little finger than the entire court combined." He turned his glowing golden eyes back to Saraphina. "Kora is not my queen because she wears these jewels. She is my queen because my soul crawled out of the dark and begged for hers." Valyrias pressed a fierce, lingering kiss to Kora's temple. "You are dismissed from her service." The warlord snarled at the noble women. "If I ever catch your scent in the royal wing again, I will feed you to the hounds. Get out." The women scrambled to their feet, sobbing in terror, and fled the room faster than prey. The heavy doors clicked shut. The terrifying alpha aura instantly vanished in the room, leaving only the crackle of the fire. Valyrias looked down at his mate. She was drowning in oversized armor and priceless jewels. Tears of overwhelming relief tracking down her cheeks. He gently wiped a tear away with his thumb. "They will never make you feel small again," he swore, his voice dropping to that soft, private rumble meant only for her. "I will cover you in so much gold the world goes blind looking at you, Kora. You are my equal always." Kora leaned up, her heart so full it felt like it might burst, and finally desperately pressed her lips to his.
Chapter 6.
For 3 days, the Obsidian Palace existed in a state of suspended reality. Valyrias refused to leave Kora's side. He conducted his war councils from the foot of their massive bed, his general standing awkwardly near the door while the king fed his mate grapes and softly ran his fingers through her hair. The poison had left her weak, her throat still raw, but the steady thrum of the mate bond was healing her faster than any medicine. Valyrias's presence was a physical weight, a warm vibrating blanket of alpha energy that kept the nightmares at bay. But the peace couldn't last. A warlord's throne is built on swords, not silk.
On the morning of the fourth day, the heavy oak doors to the bed chamber flew open. General Kalin, Valyrias's second in command, strode in. His armor was dented, his face grim, and the sharp acidic scent of adrenaline and battle smoke rolled off him. Valyrias went instantly rigid, shifting his body to completely shield Kora from the door. "Report," the king snarled, his voice dropping an octave.
Kalin bowed, his eyes darting to the floor, terrified to look at the luna. "Your Majesty, it's the Riverpack, Lord Malcolm's family." The words hung in the air like a drawn blade. Malcolm, the traitor Valyrias had executed in the great hall. "They've amassed an army at the southern border," Kalin continued, his voice tight. "10,000 wolves. They claim Malcolm was wrongfully murdered. They say..." the general hesitated, his jaw clenching.
"Speak," Valyrias commanded, the golden ring returning to his storm gray eyes. "They say the assassination attempt was a lie. A conspiracy concocted by a power-hungry food taster who enchanted you." Kalin swallowed hard. "They demand the girl be handed over to them for execution or they will march on the capital by nightfall."
The silence in the room was absolute. Kora stopped breathing. Her hands gripped the silk sheet so tightly her knuckles turned white. 10,000 wolves. The Riverpack was one of the largest on the continent. A war would mean thousands dead. It would mean the destruction of the peace Valyrias had spent a decade building. "Give me to them," Kora whispered. The words tasted like ash, but she forced them out. "Valyrias, you cannot let your people die for me. I am just one person." She reached out, her trembling fingers touching his rigid back. "Please, it's the only way."
Valyrias didn't look at her. He didn't turn around. Instead, a sound ripped through his chest. A low, terrifying mechanical sound. He was laughing. It wasn't a sound of amusement. It was the dark, hollow laugh of a predator who had just been given permission to stop holding back. He stood up slowly, his massive frame unfurling. The air pressure in the room skyrocketed, heavy and suffocating. "Kalin," the king said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion. "Tell the commanders to prepare the vanguard. We march in 1 hour."
"Your majesty," Kalin protested gently. "They outnumber us 3 to one at the border. If we negotiate..."
Valyrias moved so fast the air cracked. He crossed the room and grabbed his general by the breastplate, lifting the massive warrior onto his toes. "There is no negotiation for my mate's life," Valyrias roared, his golden eyes burning with unhinged apocalyptic fury. "They asked for her head, so I am going to bring them mine, and I will not stop slaughtering until the rivers run black with their blood." He dropped Kalin, turning back to the armor stand.
Kora scrambled out of bed, her bare feet hitting the cold stone floor. She ignored her weakness, running to him and throwing her arms around his waist from behind. "Valyrias, stop!" she cried, pressing her face against his back. "You will die. They have 10,000 men."
Valyrias froze. His massive hands covered hers where they rested against his stomach. He turned in her arms, looking down at her with an expression of such devastating, profound obsession that it made her heart ache. "Kora," he whispered, cupping her face. "If they take you from me, I am already dead. The bond will stop my heart before the sun sets." He pressed his forehead to hers, closing his eyes. "You drank poison to save my life. Did you truly think I would not burn the world to the ground to save yours?" The absolute certainty in his voice left no room for argument. This wasn't a tactical decision. This was a feral alpha protecting the other half of his soul.
"I won't let you," Kora said fiercely, her voice shaking, but her eyes locked on his. "You are a king. Your people need you."
Valyrias smiled, a sad, beautiful smile. "My people have a king," he murmured. "But my soul only has you." He kissed her then, a desperate, bruising, apocalyptic kiss that tasted like a goodbye. He poured every ounce of his love, his terror, and his devotion into the bond, overwhelming her senses until her knees buckled. Valyrias caught her, holding her tight for one agonizing second. Then he stepped back.
"Lock the royal wing," he commanded Kalin, his voice turning to ice. "Put 50 of my elite guard on her door. If a single Riverpac soldier gets within a mile of this room, I will hold you personally responsible."
"Yes, Alpha." Kalin bowed, his face pale. Valyrias didn't look back as he strode out of the room, his heavy boots echoing down the corridor. The heavy oak doors slammed shut, the locks turning with a final terrifying click. Kora was safe, but the man she loved was riding straight into a massacre.
Chapter 7.
The royal chambers were a gilded cage. Kora paced the length of the massive rugs, the heavy silk of her oversized sleep shirt whispering against the floor. Outside the thick oak doors, she could hear the clatter of armor, the sharp commands of the 50 elite guards Valyrias had left to protect her. Through the mate bond, she felt him. A dark vibrating current of pure adrenaline and lethal focus. Valyrias was riding south. He was riding to war and he was going to die because of her.
Kora stopped pacing, her hands curling into tight fists. I am a food taster, she thought, the panic rising in her chest. I am nobody. But then she remembered the weight of the Luna's crown Valyrias had placed on her head. She remembered the absolute devotion in his golden eyes. "You are my equal," he had said. "Always." A sudden, icy clarity cut through her terror. She wasn't just a servant anymore. She was the queen of the Obsidian Peaks, and queens did not hide while their kings bled.
Kora flew to the heavy wooden wardrobe. She bypassed the delicate silks and velvet gowns, tearing through the garments until she found a simple, dark riding habit. She dressed quickly, her hands shaking but purposeful. She strapped a small silver dagger, one of Valyrias's, to her thigh. She didn't have an army. She didn't have a wolf, but she had something else. For 10 years, Kora had been invisible. She had poured wine for every lord, cleared plates for every general, and stood silently in the shadows of every council meeting. People didn't watch what they said in front of the furniture, and Lord Malcolm of the Riverpack had been very, very talkative.
Kora marched to the chamber doors and threw her weight against them. "Open these doors!" she shouted. The 50 elite guards outside shifted uncomfortably, their armor clanking. "Forgive us, Luna," the captain's muffled voice came through the wood. "The king gave us strict orders." "We cannot let you leave."
"The king gave you an order to protect me," Cora yelled back, channeling every ounce of the alpha aura she could pull through the mate bond. "But I am giving you an order to save him. If you do not open this door, the Obsidian Peaks will fall today, and it will be your fault." A tense silence hung in the corridor. Then the heavy iron locks clicked open. The doors swung wide. The captain stood there, his face pale, his massive broadsword lowered. "Luna, what are you doing?"
Kora didn't hesitate. She stepped out of the room, her chin held high, her dark eyes blazing with a fierce, terrifying calm. "We are going to the southern border," she commanded, her voice steady and echoing down the hall. "Saddle my horse and bring me the royal archivist. I know exactly where Lord Malcolm kept his sealed correspondence hidden in his private study." The captain's eyes widened, but the sheer commanding presence of his new queen left no room for doubt. "Yes, your grace."
The ride south was a blur of thundering hooves and freezing wind. Kora rode at the head of her 50 guards, pushing her mount to its absolute limit. Through the bond, the adrenaline was spiking into a chaotic, feral roar. Valyrias had reached the battlefield. They crested the final ridge just as the sun began to set, casting the valley in a bloody orange light. The sight below made Kora's heart stop. 10,000 Riverpack soldiers stood in perfect terrifying formation, their banners snapping in the wind. And facing them, vastly outnumbered, was Valyrias's vanguard. The Alpha King sat atop his massive black warhorse, completely alone in the space between the two armies. He had shed his armor. He wore only a dark shirt, his broad chest heaving, his eyes burning gold. He wasn't there to negotiate. He was there to challenge the riverpack's leader to a fight to the death.
"Valyrias!" Kora screamed, her voice tearing through the freezing air. The king's head snapped toward the ridge. Even from a mile away, she felt his sheer unadulterated panic hit her through the bond like a physical blow. "What is she doing here?"
Kora didn't stop. She spurred her horse down the ridge, galloping straight into the empty space between the armies. Her 50 guards formed a protective wedge around her, but she broke through them, pulling her horse to a sliding halt directly beside Valyrias. "Are you insane?" Valyrias roared, his voice cracking with terror as he leaned over and grabbed the reins of her horse. "I told you to stay in the palace. Get behind me, Kora. Now!" The feral violence radiating off him was suffocating, but Kora didn't flinch. She reached out and placed her small bare hand flat against his chest. "I told you I wouldn't let you die for me," she said, her
voice dropping to a fierce whisper. The touch grounded him instantly. The golden fire in his eyes flickered, the panic receding just enough for him to breathe.
Kora turned her horse to face the massive Riverpac army. "Alphagaric of the Riverpac," Kora shouted, her voice amplified by the silence of 20,000 men. The opposing general rode forward, his face twisted in a cruel sneer. "You bring the assassin to us, Valyrias. How thoughtful."
"I am no assassin," Kora cut in, her voice ringing like a bell across the battlefield. And Malcolm was no martyr. She reached into her saddle bag and pulled out a thick stack of parchment bound in leather. She held it high in the air for both armies to see. "These are Lord Malcolm's private letters stamped with his own wax seal," Kora announced. "For 10 years, I poured his wine while he plotted in the shadows. He wasn't murdered unjustly. He was executed for treason because he put wolves bane in the king's cup and I drank it to save my mate's life."
A shocked murmur rippled through the riverpack's front lines. "Lies!" Garrick shouted, drawing his sword. "Do not listen to the witch."
Cora ignored him, her dark eyes blazing. "I know about the silver shipments he stole from your own minds," she continued, her voice relentless, reciting the secrets she had memorized while standing invisibly against the walls. "I know he planned to assassinate King Valyrias and blame the riverpack. He wanted to start this exact war, using you as cannon fodder so he could seize the throne in the chaos."
She threw the heavy stack of letters onto the muddy ground between them. "Read them," she commanded. "The proof is right there. He didn't care about your pack. He was using you to die for his ambition."
The Riverpack generals exchanged uncertain, horrified glances. One of the lieutenants dismounted and picked up the letters. He broke the seal, scanning the pages, his face draining of color. "It's true," the lieutenant whispered, the words carrying on the wind. "Malcolm was playing us."
Alpha Garrick's face contorted in desperate rage. He had been exposed. "She forged them!" he screamed, spurring his horse forward, his sword raised, aiming a killing strike straight for Kora.
Valyrias didn't even draw a weapon. He moved with a terrifying blinding speed of a god. He vaulted from his horse, meeting Garrick midcharge. The king grabbed the general's charging horse by the bridal, forcing the massive animal to its knees with sheer, brutal strength. He ripped Garrick from the saddle, slamming him into the mud with a bone shattering crack. Valyrias stood over him, his heavy boot pressed to the traitor's chest, his eyes burning with lethal incandescent gold as he looked at the rest of the riverpack.
"My mate," Valerius rumbled, his voice echoing across the silent valley like thunder, "has just offered you the truth. She has given you a chance to walk away with your lives." He pressed his boot harder against Garrick's chest, making the man gasp for air. "Take it!"
The Riverpac army hesitated for one agonizing second. Then slowly the lieutenants sheathed their swords. The soldiers followed. The threat of war dissolved into the cold evening air, leaving only the wind and the devastating truth of Kora's bravery.
Valyius turned his back on the retreating army. He walked slowly back to Kora, his broad chest heaving, his face utterly stripped of its feral rage. He looked up at her sitting on her horse, the letters in the mud. The kingdom saved. "You," the warlord breathed, his voice thick with awe and absolute worship, "are the most terrifying creature I have ever met."
Chapter 8. The ride back to the Obsidian Palace was entirely different from the ride out. There was no frantic galloping, no blinding terror. Instead, Valerius kept Kora's horse tethered to his own, his massive hand never leaving her knee. He refused to let her out of his sight for a single second. When they finally reached the royal bed chambers, Valerius dismissed the elite guards with a single sharp jerk of his chin. The heavy oak doors slammed shut, the locks turning, sealing them in the warm firelit sanctuary. The silence of the room was sudden and deafening after the chaos of the battlefield.
Kora stood in the center of the plush rug, her riding habits splattered with mud, her hands still trembling from the adrenaline crash. She expected the warlord to shout, to reprimand her for disobeying a direct order and riding into a war zone. Instead, Valyri stripped off his weapon belt, letting it hit the floor with a heavy thud, and crossed the room. He didn't yell. He didn't even speak. The most terrifying alpha on the continent simply collapsed to his knees in front of her. He wrapped his massive arms around her waist and buried his face directly into her stomach, letting out a long, ragged, shuddering breath that sounded like a man who had just survived the end of the world.
"Filarious!" Kora breathed, her hands instinctively coming down to tangle in his dark windswept hair. He trembled against her, his broad shoulders shaking. "You could have died," he rasped against her clothes, his voice completely wrecked.
"I watched you ride out between 20,000 swords," Kora, "My heart stopped. My wolf lost its mind." Kora sank to her knees so she was level with him. She took his face in her hands, her thumbs tracing the rough, beautiful lines of his scars. "But I didn't die," she whispered fiercely. "I saved my king, just like you saved me in the dungeon."
Valarius opened his eyes. The storm gray was entirely gone, replaced by a deep burning liquid gold. "You didn't just save a king," he murmured, his gaze dropping to her lips. "You saved an entire empire without drawing a single blade. You are a miracle." He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers. The air between them suddenly grew impossibly thick, the mate bond vibrating with a new frantic energy. The adrenaline of survival was fading, and in its place, a dark, heavy, intoxicating heat was rising. Cora felt it pooling in her belly, her breath hitching as Valarius's hands moved to the muddy laces of her riding habit. "Let me take this off you," he whispered, his voice dropping to a grally purr that made her toes curl.
She nodded, her pulse hammering against her ribs. Valerius's hands, so capable of brutal violence, moved with agonizing worshipful care. He undid the laces, slipping the heavy fabric from her shoulders, letting it pull on the floor. When she stood before him in nothing but her thin white shmese, the warlord swallowed hard. His golden eyes darkened with absolute feral hunger, but he didn't rush. He picked her up as effortlessly as if she were made of air and carried her to the massive four poster bed. He laid her back against the black silk sheets, following her down. The scorching heat of his large body blanketed hers, pressing her into the mattress. "Kaura," he breathed, his mouth hovering just an inch above hers. "If I kiss you right now, I am not going to stop. I am going to claim every inch of you."
Kora looked up into the eyes of the man who had terrified the world, but who only wanted to worship her. She arched her back, closing the distance, and pressed her lips to his. "Then claim me," she whispered against his mouth.
Valarius groaned, a deep territorial sound that vibrated straight through her chest. He kissed her, not with the frantic panic of the battlefield, but with a slow, devastating, consuming heat. His tongue swept across her lower lip, tasting her, devouring her. Kora's hands flew to his broad shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer. His hands were everywhere, tracing the curve of her waist, the dip of her spine, mapping her body like it was holy ground. The thin silk of her shmese was swept away. And when skin finally met skin, the mate bond erupted. Kora gasped into his mouth, sparks of pure, blinding pleasure arcing through her nervous system as the alpha's heat sank into her bones. "Mine," Valerius muttered feverishly, his lips trailing hot, wet kisses down her jaw, her throat, to the sensitive pulse point at the base of her neck. "Only mine!" He woripped every inch of her, his touch so reverent, so deeply tender that tears of pure joy pricricked Kora's eyes. She had been invisible her whole life and now she was the center of a god's entire universe.
When he finally moved over her, completing the union, Kora cried out his name. The sensation was overwhelming, a tidal wave of emotion, pleasure, and absolute belonging. Through the bond, she felt his mind open to hers. She felt his ancient loneliness shattering, replaced entirely by a love so vast and heavy it brought tears to his own golden eyes. "Cora!" Falarius choked out, his body trembling above hers. He shifted his weight, his face burying into the crook of her neck. She felt his fangs extend, grazing against her skin. It was the final step, the true marking. "Do it," she whispered, tangling her fingers in his hair. "Make me yours."
Valerius bit down. A sharp, searing pinch broke the skin, but the pain vanished instantly, replaced by an explosion of golden, euphoric light behind her eyes. The mate bond sealed. A permanent, unbreakable tether welded their souls together. Valerius let out a long, ragged roar of completion, his entire body shuddering as he poured his life, his magic, and his heart into hers.
Long minutes later, the fire crackled quietly in the hearth. Valarius lay on his side, holding Kora so tightly against his chest that she could feel the steady, synchronized beating of their hearts. His heavy scarred arm was wrapped securely around her waist, his chin resting on the top of her head. "My queen," the warlord murmured sleepily into the dark, his thumb slowly stroking the fresh healing bite mark on her neck. "My brave, beautiful queen."
Kora smiled against his chest, closing her eyes. She wasn't a food taster anymore. She was the lunar of the Obsidian Peaks, and for the first time in her life, she was exactly where she belonged.
Epilogue. Two years had passed since the Battle of the Ridge. 2 years since Kora, the invisible food taster, had become the Luna of the Obsidian Peaks. The Great Hall no longer smelled of fear and sour alpha aggression. Instead, it smelled of roasted apples, cinnamon, and the warm, chaotic joy of a kingdom at peace.
Kora stood by the massive arched windows, looking out over the snowdusted courtyard. She wore a gown of deep emerald silk, the heavy obsidian and diamond crown resting comfortably on her dark hair. But it wasn't the jewels that made her look like a queen. It was the quiet, absolute confidence in her posture.
A sudden high-pitched squeal echoed from the center of the hall, followed immediately by the thunderous, frantic thud of heavy boots. Cora turned, a smile already curving her lips. King Valerius, the ruthless warlord who had conquered the northern continent, was currently on his hands and knees under the grand dining table. His dark hair was a mess. His royal tunic was covered in dust, and he was completely, utterly panicked. "Arelia!" Valyrias's voice boomed, dropping into his terrifying battlefield command register. "Aurelia, come back here immediately. That is an order from your king."
A tiny silver furred wolf pup, no larger than a loaf of bread, scrambled out from beneath the table, entirely ignoring the alpha's command. She bounded across the marble floor, her oversized paws slipping comically, carrying a highly classified, heavily guarded border treaty in her mouth. Valarius scrambled out from under the table, his storm grey eyes wide with horror as he chased the tiny menace across the hall. The terrifying general, a man who had slaughtered armies without breaking a sweat, looked like he was about to cry over a two-ft tall ball of fluff. "Kora," Valarius pleaded, looking up at his mate in desperation as the pup darted out of his reach again. "She's eating the Western Alliance. Do something."
Cora laughed, a bright ringing sound that made the guards by the door smile openly. She stepped into the center of the room and simply held out her hands. "Arelia," she called softly, her voice carrying no alpha dominance, only the gentle, unwavering warmth of a mother. The tiny silver pup stopped dead in her tracks. Her oversized ears perked up. She dropped the chewed-up border treaty onto the floor, gave a tiny, happy yip, and launched herself directly into Kora's waiting arms. Kora caught her easily, burying her face in the soft puppy fur.
Valarius let out a long, ragged sigh of relief, collapsing against the edge of the dining table. He wiped a hand down his face, looking from the ruined parchment to his mate and daughter. The feral tension completely melted from his massive frame, leaving only a look of profound, helpless devotion. He walked over to them, his heavy boots slow and deliberate. He didn't reprimand the pup. Instead, the warlord wrapped his massive arms around both of them, pulling Kora and Aurelia flush against his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of the pup's head, then buried his face in the crook of Kora's neck, right over her mating mark. "I can command 10,000 soldiers," Valarius murmured against her skin, his voice a low, vibrating rumble of pure contentment, "but I am entirely at the mercy of the two of you."
Cora leaned her head back against his broad shoulder, her heart swelling until it physically achd with joy. "You wouldn't have it any other way," she whispered, turning her head to press a soft kiss to his scarred jaw. Valarius's golden eyes met hers, burning with the same obsessive, worldending love he had shown her in the dungeon two years ago. "No," the alpha king swore, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. "I wouldn't."
Oh my goodness. I don't know about you, but a terrifying, bloodthirsty warlord being completely defeated by a tiny wolf pup is my absolute favorite kind of ending. Thank you so much for listening to Kora and Valyrias's story today. Please let me know what you thought of Kora's bravery in the comments. Don't forget to like this video and subscribe to the channel so you never miss a new romance. I'm Ammy Sterling. Until next time, stay safe, keep watching, and much