Steven’s POV
“So, let’s do this claiming thing then?” Luna questioned, her voice soft but carrying an unmistakable curiosity.
The question caught me slightly off guard, but the sparkle in her eyes told me that she was not asking on a sense of obligation. There was something deeper-something deeper than that. I searched her face carefully for any sign of hesitation, any quiver of doubt that would make me freeze.
“You really want to do that?” I said, my voice low, almost hesitant.
“Yes,” she answered without a second thought. There was something definite in the tone of her response, something calm in her resolve that made my chest tighten. “Show me how it’s done,” she continued, her lips barely parted as she looked at me. “Make me like it.”
The weight of her words fell upon me, more than she probably realized. This wasn’t about physical closeness-this was about trust. About rewrites the past had imposed on her. And that responsibility… it meant everything to me.
I let out a slow breath and nodded. “Okay.”
Not turning away, I bent, my arms going under her as I lifted her easily against me. A burst of air escaped her in a gasp, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around me, her fingers sinking into the flesh of my shoulders.
“What. what do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, eyes wide with concern. “You’re still hurt!”
Despite the aching in my body, I smiled. “I can still carry you,” I assured her, my tone filled with abiding confidence.
She didn’t argue further, though the concern didn’t entirely leave her face. She just allowed me to guide her down onto the bed, her form settling into the softness of the sheets. For an instant, I just looked at her-really looked at her. The way her hair lay on the pillow, the way her chest heaved and sank with each deep breath, the way she looked up at me with a look that was both fearful and expectant.
I brushed my fingers against the edge of her face, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Ready?” I asked softly this time, offering her one last chance to change her mind.
She exhaled, as though she was trying to release whatever residual fears still grasped her. “I told you this before,” she breathed, the sound of her voice tinged with a sorrowful hush. “I’ve never actually liked this before. I’ve always been forced.” Her gaze fell for a fleeting instant before it rose once more to me, determination flickering behind the vulnerability of her eyes. “But I want it now. So make me like it.”
Her words made a tidal wave of emotion crash through me-anger at what had been taken from her, sorrow at the pain she had endured, but most of all, a searing, unrelenting need to show her that this could be something different. That it must always have been something different.
I swallowed hard and leaned forward, angling my head just so, to touch my lips to hers. The kiss was slow, tender, full of every unspoken vow I desired to make to her. I wasn’t in a rush-this wasn’t about hurrying or proving something. It was about ensuring she felt safe, desired, loved.
“You…” she started, but whatever it was she’d been about to say was lost in the moment. She leaned in, meeting me halfway, her lips molding perfectly against mine as she took the kiss deeper herself.
A low buzz vibrated deep in my throat as I allowed myself to get lost in the warmth of her body. The touch of her fingers along, softly coming to rest against the back of my neck, sent shivers down me. She was placing herself and this in my care, trusting me, and that meant more than anything ever could.
Sheard, I pulled back, my breath intermingling with hers as I trailed soft, languid kisses along the curve of her jaw. My lips danced across her skin, enjoying the way she shivered beneath my caress. Then, slowly, I moved lower, setting my lips gently at the nape of her neck, taking a deep breath as her heady aroma filled my lungs.
I blinked my eyes closed for one swift second, allowing myself simply to be with her, to be thankful that she stood here with me-willingly, whole. And in that moment, everything else faded away. It was only her. Only us.
*******
Freya’s POV
The wind whistled softly through the branches, the leaves trembling as I sat outside the small, weathered cottage, embracing my legs. The cold wind nipped at my skin, but I barely noticed. My head was too muddled, my heart too heavy to feel anything but the weight of my grief.
My sister… she’s dead.
Freja died.
No matter how often I said the words in my head, they would not fit. It couldn’t be done-it was not possible. She was here, alive, breathing, smiling, and now suddenly, like a snap of your fingers, she was gone. The silence left behind after her departure was more than I could handle.
I closed my eyes tightly, not wanting to cry anymore. But the ache would not disappear. It hung around in my chest, oppressing me like a big stone, suffocating me.
And the most painful part of it? The man who had done this to me was a man I trusted once. A man I had given my heart to with complete trust.
Liam.
The man I loved. The man I believed loved me too.
But in the end, his dedication to his own power meant more to him than either of us. He betrayed us-betrayed her. He stood by while they killed my sister and did nothing.
And for that, I would make him pay.
I would kill him, for he had killed Freja. I would rip him limb from limb until he felt even a fraction of the pain he had inflicted upon me. I would make him beg for mercy before I ended his wretched life.
A harsh, bitter laugh left my lips. Mercy? No. There would be no mercy.
As I clenched my fists, submerged in the lunacy of my anger, a voice shook me into the real world.
“I finally found you guys.”
The voice startled me, and I instinctively jerked my head up. I knew immediately who was standing a few feet away-James.
Maya’s brother.
Freja’s supposed boyfriend.
A fresh wave of fury ran through my blood the moment I laid eyes on him. He was with them. The very same people who had taken my sister away from me.
“You must be starving for death to have ended up here,” I growled, my tone as sharp as a knife as I rose to my feet, my body tensed and ready to fight.
James took a step back, his hands raising slightly in surrender. “I’m not here to fight, Freya,” he warned, his tone measured, cautious.
But I wasn’t listening.
“Well, considering what you all did, you’ll get one all right,” I spit out, my breath heavy with rage.
James breathed slowly, shaking his head. “I did not know they were going to kill Freja,” he admitted, his voice softer now, tinged with guilt.
Something inside me snapped.
“Do not say her name!” I bellowed.
My entire body trembled as I felt my fangs extending, the anger and pain gripping me. Without hesitation, I attacked him, my nails transforming into claws as I struck his arm. Immediately, blood covered his sleeve, and finally, James flinched.
But still, he didn’t strike back.
“Don’t stand there!” I screamed, my voice shaking. “Fight me! Fight me!”
I swung again, this time punching my fist into his jaw. He reeled back, again refusing to defend himself.
“I can’t fight you,” he spoke, his voice tight. “You’re Freja’s sister.”
I gave a harsh laugh, my vision blurry with rage. “And your sister killed her!” I shouted, shoving him hard enough that he sat on the ground.
James let out a groaning breath, then yelled suddenly-his voice raw and desperate.
“I loved her!”
His words brought me to a standstill.
He lifted his head, his eyes burning with something that was almost pain. “I loved your sister,” he continued, his voice breaking. “I didn’t know she was related to Steven until that evening. But even if I had known, it would not have mattered. She was the first girl ever to get anything out of me. She carved a niche for herself in my heart, and now she’s dead. So if you think you’re the only one suffering, if you think you’re the only one broken by her death, look at me! Her death killed me too.”
I swallowed heavily, my chest tightening at what he had uttered.
He was a man on the brink of breaking, as if one who had lost a part of his soul. And even as I wanted to hate him, I could not help but listen to the pain in his voice.
But still.
“Your sister killed her,” I said, my voice gentler now but no less stern.
James released a harsh breath, shaking his head. “She’s not my sister anymore,” he growled bitterly. “She cut that tie the moment she tore out Freja’s heart.”
There was silence between us.
For the first time since Freja’s death, I felt something besides anger. It was fleeting, just a flash, but it was there.
I breathed out, pushing myself to remain alert. “Why precisely are you here?” I finally asked.
James looked at me, his face black and somber. “Liam has taken over the mansion,” he told me. “He’s holding your pack hostage. And there are rumors circulating that if Steven doesn’t surrender by nightfall, Liam will kill one of his pack members every hour.”
My heart stopped. “What?!”
James slowly nodded. “If I wanted to have revenge for Freja’s death, I would have killed my own sister myself. That is not actually revenge. She murdered Freja outside of my reach, so I will take from her what she desires most. And it is not her life-it is her pack.” His gaze locked with mine. “In order to do it, I need help. I need Steven’s help.”
I shook my head immediately. “Steven is clinging to life by his fingernails as it is. Freja’s death destroyed him. If he finds out about this, he’ll offer himself to Liam just to put an end to the killing.” I breathed a shaky breath. “And if he does that, Liam will kill him. I’ve lost Freja already-I don’t want to lose Steven too.”
James did not object. He merely watched me, waiting for the right moment.
I shoved my spine into position, my determination set. “We’ll get Liam and Maya before Steven even knows what’s happening. We’ll hit tonight. Just us two.”
James hesitated. “Are you sure? It will be risky. The wizard Ivan is still with them, and he’s powerful.”
I mocked. “Afraid of dying?”
James let out a bitter laugh. “Only people who have something to live for are scared of dying,” he told me. “Unfortunately, I don’t fit the bill.”
I met his gaze. “I’m not scared either. And we have an advantage-Liam still cares about me. He won’t let me die.”
James breathed in, then slowly stood up.
“Fine then,” he said.
He lifted his hand in my direction. “Shall we do this?”
I gazed at his outstretched hand before shaking it firmly.
A small, determined smile tugged at my lips.
“Let’s do this,” I said.