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“Deliriously,” I admit. “Though I still feel like I’m going to wake up and find this was all a dream.”

His hand tightens around my waist. “It’s not a dream. I am very real, as are you.”

“A wolf shifter scientist queen,” I muse. “Not exactly what I planned for my life.”

“Plans change,” he says, his eyes twinkling. “Sometimes for the better.”

“Definitely for the better,” I agree, leaning closer. “Though I’m not sure everyone agrees. Elder Monroe looks like he swallowed something sour.”

Griffin chuckles, the sound rumbling pleasantly in his chest. “He’ll adapt. They all will.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Then, they’ll answer to me,” he says simply.

The dance ends, and others crowd around to offer congratulations. Cedric and Leanna are among the first, their son Finn bounding up to hug me with childish enthusiasm.

“Does this mean you’re staying forever?” he asks, his young face earnest.

I ruffle his hair. “It does, little wolf. You’re stuck with me now.”

“Good,” he declares with a child’s certainty. “You make the best cookies.”

Leanna laughs, pulling her son back to her. “And that’s clearly the most important quality in a queen,” she teases.

The evening continues in a whirl of dancing, toasting, and tradition. Through it all, I’m aware of Griffin’s eyes following me, our bond a constant presence linking us across the crowded hall.

When I finally return to his side, breathless from a particularly energetic dance with Leanna, he hands me a glass of chilled wine. “Having fun?” he asks, his voice warm with amusement.

“More than I expected,” I admit, sipping gratefully. “Though I think I’ve heard enough about ‘proper queenly behavior’ from various noble ladies to last a lifetime.”

“Ignore them,” Griffin advises. “You’ve already proven yourself more worthy than any of them.”

“By nearly dying and turning into a wolf?” I tease.

“By saving our kind when you had every reason to let us suffer,” he says seriously. “By being brave enough to forgive me when I gave you no reason to.”

I touch his face gently. “You gave me plenty of reasons. I was just too hurt to see them at first.”

His eyes darken with remembered pain. “I still wake up sometimes thinking that you’re gone. That I lost you in that cabin.”

“I’m right here,” I assure him. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise?” he asks, and in that moment he isn’t a powerful king but simply a man who has lost too much, who fears losing more.

“Promise,” I whisper, sealing it with a kiss that draws appreciative whistles from nearby guests.

Griffin grins against my lips. “We’re causing a scandal.”

“Good,” I reply. “They should get used to it.”

The celebration continues late into the night, but eventually, Griffin guides me away from the revelry, through quiet corridors to our private chambers. The rooms have been prepared for us—fresh flowers in crystal vases, candles casting a warm glow across polished surfaces, and the bed turned down invitingly.

The door clicks shut behind us, the sound loud in the quiet after the celebration. My heart is racing. The pulse in my throat pounds like a drum, and my skin feels hot beneath the layers of silk and lace I’m still wearing. Griffin is behind me, silent but close—so close, I can feel his heat at my back.

I turn slowly, and when I meet his eyes, everything in me tightens. There’s no trace of the calm, composed king in his expression now. His gaze is dark, stormy with want, his jaw tense, lips parted slightly like he’s holding back a growl. The same growl that makes my knees weak.

“You’re mine now,” he says, his voice low, rough, possessive. “And I’m done waiting.”