Page 35

Andros

Noise. That’s what woke me.

Hammering, shouting—movement. Not the chaos of war, not the bloodthirsty roar of wolves clashing steel, but something… softer. Livelier.

Rebuilding.

I blinked, sunlight cutting across the sheets, warm and golden.

For a few seconds, I didn’t know where the fuck I was.

My limbs were too heavy, the mattress too soft, the room too quiet.

Then I turned my head and saw the curve of the bedpost. The fur thrown carelessly across the foot of the mattress.

My bed. No— our bed.

And that’s when the ache in my muscles kicked in. Not the kind that came from battle. The other kind.

Gods. Last night.

Flashes hit me in short, hard bursts—Lexa, on her knees, lips parted, eyes locked on mine like a challenge.

Then above me, moving like a storm, like something born from the wild—hair falling, hips rolling, green eyes gleaming like fire through forest shadows.

She didn’t ride me, she ruled me. Every moan, every scratch down my back, a fucking claim.

I let out a low growl.

Great. I was hard again just thinking about it. But the bed was empty now.

Where the hell did she go?

I sat up, scrubbed a hand down my face, and forced myself out of bed. Pulled on black pants, a linen shirt, boots. Still sore. Still satisfied. Still not over the way her name sounded in my throat when she made me— Focus.

I walked to the window, pushing it open. The breeze hit me first—sharp and cold, but laced with the scent of freshly carved wood, damp stone, morning fire.

And beneath it all… peace. Not silence. Not stillness. But the weight of survival lifting. The scent of life returning.

The courtyard was full, my pack moving like a living tide. Hauling beams. Resetting stone. Repairing what Roran tried to ruin. Their voices rang out across the stone walls, laughter mixed with curses, sweat mixed with pride.

And in the middle of it— Her . Lexa.

She stood with Dain at her side, a woven basket looped over her arm, offering water and fresh-baked bread to the workers, her smile quick and sarcastic, her presence—undeniable. The boy was grinning, practically bouncing as he handed out cups.

Lexa wore a black dress stitched with silver thread, the fabric hugging her waist, corset drawn tight, her shoulders bare to the sun. Her hair was braided over one shoulder, a single wild strand curling loose against her cheek. The wind tugged at it like it belonged to no one but the air.

My eyes dropped lower, to the scar that still traced across her chest. The mark Roran left when he tried to kill her. Healed. Closed. But it would never fully fade.

Neither would the ones on her back. The old ones. The runes she'd carved into herself to silence the wolf. To erase the part of her that was always meant to live.

But now, here she was. Whole. Scarred. And so fucking alive. I rested my hands on the windowsill and just looked at her for a long moment.

Gods, she’d burned my world down. And I’d let her do it again.

“Well, well” her voice slid through the bond, rich with that familiar bite of sarcasm. “Look who finally decided to grace us with his mighty presence.”

I smirked, sitting on the edge of the bed as I pulled on my boots. “You’re lucky I got out of bed at all. You fucking wore me out last night.”

“Please,” she shot back instantly, “ I let you keep up.”

“Let me?” I laughed under my breath, shaking my head. “You were practically begging—”

“—for you to stop talking so much? Yeah.” A pause. “Besides, if I remember right, you were the one making all the noise.”

I stood, rolling my shoulders, grin spreading wide across my face. “I’d say let’s go for round two, but it looks like you’re busy being domestic and gorgeous.”

“Flattery won’t get you out of helping out today.”

“Wasn’t trying to get out of it. I just want to watch you bend over the table again.”

I felt her exhale through the bond—half exasperated, half amused.

“ Can't, table is occupied cause lunch is almost ready,” she said, and her tone softened just enough to make something warm flicker in my chest. “Since you skipped breakfast, you better show up before Dain eats everything.”

“So demanding,” I teased.

“So slow,” she returned. “We’ll meet you in the dining hall in a few. Don’t be late, Alpha.”

“Wouldn’t dare.”

I walked toward the door, still smiling, already counting the seconds until I could kiss her again.

I made my way down the stairs, greeting wolves as I passed—some still bruised from the last fight, others already laughing like the blood hadn’t even dried on the stones two weeks ago. I clapped a younger one on the shoulder, the kid’s arm still in a sling.

“Feeling better?”

“Like shit, Alpha,” he grinned.

“Good. Builds character,” I said, and kept walking.

The scent of roasted meat hit me before I even stepped into the dining hall. Inside, Garrick was already halfway through a lamb chop, shirt dusted in limestone like he’d rolled around in the quarry. He looked up with a full mouth and narrowed eyes.

“Finally. I’ve been up since sunrise, digging holes and pretending to know what I’m doing. Where the fuck have you been?”

I dropped into my chair, smirking. “Recovering. You wouldn’t understand—takes stamina to survive a night with a wild woman.”

He groaned dramatically. “Ugh. You two. Gods. There’s no escaping it.”

Before I could reply, the door opened again, and Lexa walked in with Dain bounding ahead of her like a pup on sugar. She was radiant—black and silver dress, her hair braided over her shoulder, that wild strand loose against her face. My chest clenched like it always did when I saw her.

I met her halfway, pulled her in, kissed her slow and deep, like I hadn't just seen her an hour ago. She rolled her eyes when we pulled apart but smiled. I grabbed her chair and pulled it out with a small bow.

“My lady,” I said dryly.

“Charming,” she muttered, sitting down.

Garrick wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Anika’ll be down in a second.”

“Who?” Lexa’s voice slid through the bond, amused and confused.

“I have no idea,” I answered.

“Is she one of ours? Or… human?”

Before I could guess, the doors creaked again, and she walked in.

The witch.

Not the half-dead, soot-covered, hunched creature who dragged us through death and back.

No. She was radiant. In a green dress that hugged her sharp curves, dark hair brushed smooth with silver streaks glinting like starlight, lips painted red, smoky eyes like dusk and mischief.

She plucked an apple from the tray with a perfectly manicured hand and looked straight at Lexa.

“I find it funny,” she said dryly, “that you came to me for years, spilled blood on my floor, and never once asked for my name.”

Lexa tilted her head and smiled sweetly. “You called me wolf girl for years. I thought we agreed we weren’t on a first-name basis.”

Garrick’s face lit up like the first fire of winter. “I saved you a seat next to me,” he said to Anika, patting the bench like a proud wolf.

Lexa turned slowly to look at me.

I turned slowly to look at her.

She groaned in the bond, long and dramatic. “Noooooo. Now she’s never going to leave.”

I swallowed my laugh, keeping a straight face. “She might. But… I fear she may take my beta with her.”

Lexa dropped her head against the back of her chair with a whine. “Gods, help us.”

Across the table, Garrick was already offering Anika half his lamb chop. And the witch? She winked at him.

After lunch, the hours drifted by with a strange, peaceful rhythm.

We walked the grounds together, checking on the rebuilding, speaking with wolves, listening to plans and ideas like leaders should.

Lexa gave her usual sharp-tongued feedback, and they loved her for it.

Dain trailed behind us most of the day, climbing everything he could and nearly giving Garrick a heart attack when he tried to jump from a half-built terrace.

By nightfall, the sky was deep with stars, the scent of woodsmoke soft in the air. I returned to our room first, and she followed a little while later.

“He went down like a rock,” she said, closing the door gently behind her. “Didn’t even finish his story.”

I turned from the balcony, the cold night wind brushing over my bare arms. “You opened the windows?” she asked, eyeing me like I’d finally lost it. “Why? It's cold outside.”

“Come here,” I said instead.

She padded toward me, barefoot, hair upbraided now, loose and wild, her black dress whispering over her scarred skin. I took her hand and led her out onto the balcony, the wind tugging gently at her hair.

“All of this,” I said, sweeping my arm across the moonlit courtyard, the forest that stretched beyond it, and the lights flickering in the hills—“this is my pack. My land. Some of it inherited. Some of it taken by sheer force.”

She stayed quiet, fingers resting against mine.

“I’ve bled for it. Killed for it. Buried people I loved here.

And for most of my life, I thought I’d die alone protecting it.

That no one would ever see it the way I did.

That no one could understand what it means to be bound to something this deeply, to carry the weight of so many lives on your back and still walk like you're not breaking.”

I looked at her then. Really looked at her.

“But you do. You understand. You feel it. And somehow, without ever asking, you became part of it. You fought for it. For me . For them . You didn’t ask for this, and gods know you never begged to belong, but… here you are.”

She smiled. I stepped away for a moment and returned with the box.

Dark wood. Silver vines carved into its surface.

When I opened it, moonlight caught the necklace within—elegant silver, shaped like flowing branches, with two opal stones set in the middle that shimmered green like her eyes when she was furious.

“I never thought I’d ask anyone this question,” I said, my voice rough, “least of all a stray .”

Her brows rose. I smiled.

“But Lexa… will you be my Luna? And lead this pack with me?”

Her eyes widened, stunned for the first time in a long while. I felt it through the bond— her wolf howling with joy, tail high, pacing circles in the space between our souls.

But of course— Lexa being Lexa —she smirked a slow curl of her lips that dared me to push further.

“I’ve known you for only two months, Alpha,” she said, crossing her arms. “Asking a girl a question like that... What does it say about you ?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Hmm, yes, and you claimed me and fucked me after three weeks. What does that say about you ?”

She narrowed her eyes.

“ Four ,” she corrected. But she was laughing, cheeks flushed, eyes alive.

I was already reaching for her. I pulled her in, caught that laugh between us and kissed her, slow but hungry.

“Is that a yes?” I murmured against her lips.

She kissed me back, slow and firm. “Yes.”

And right then, under the stars, with her warmth pressed against me and the future open at our feet, I realized something:

She was the one thing I’d never conquered—the only thing I never wanted to. Because she didn’t need to be claimed. She needed to be chosen.

And gods help me, I would choose her. Again. And again. And again. In this life time and the next.

The End