_Marry Me For One Day,_She Whispered To Escape Her Ex—The Alpha King Smirked,_Forever Sounds Better.

Blood stained the snow the night the northern king claimed his bride. She only asked for twenty-four hours of protection to escape a monster. She never expected the true beast to lean down, bare his fangs, and bind her soul to his for eternity.

The great hall of Ethalgard was suffocatingly warm, thick with the scent of roasted venison, spiced wine, and the cloying perfume of the nobility. Yet, Alize of House Corvin felt nothing but an icy terror gripping her spine. She stood near the shadows of the towering stone pillars, her knuckles white as she clutched the velvet of her gown.

Across the sea of dancing lords and ladies, a pair of cruel, familiar eyes locked onto hers. Garrick. Lord Garrick of Highmount was a man celebrated by the kingdom for his wealth and charm, but Alize knew the monster that lived beneath his polished exterior. For two years, she had endured his secret cruelties during their betrothal.

He had isolated her, ruined her family finances, and turned her into a prisoner in her own home. Tonight was the royal ascendancy gala, the night King Alden would officially sanction their union. Once the ink dried on that parchment, Alize would belong to Garrick entirely. There would be no escape, no refuge, and no surviving the dark confines of his estate.

She watched as Garrick began to weave through the crowd toward her, a predatory smile stretching across his handsome, treacherous face. He raised a silver goblet in a mock toast, his gaze promising a lifetime of suffering. Alize breath hitched. She needed a miracle. She needed a shield.

Suddenly, the heavy oak doors of the great hall burst open, the hinges groaning under an immense force. The lively music ground to a jarring halt. The room plunged into a stunned, breathless silence. Striding through the entryway was Caldwell, the alpha king of the northern reaches.

He was a terrifying myth made flesh, a man who commanded the feral, untamed lycan clans of the Jagged Peaks. Standing well over six feet, Caldwell was broad-shouldered and battle-hardened, wrapped in thick furs and dark leather armor that made the silk-clad nobles look like fragile children. His hair was as dark as a raven wing, and his eyes, a piercing, unnatural shade of amber, scanned the room with apex predator intensity.

He had come to Ethelred to negotiate a fragile peace treaty, but he looked more suited to slaughtering the entire court. As the nobility parted for him like sheep fleeing a wolf, an insane, desperate thought took root in Alize mind. Garrick was only ten paces away now, his hand reaching out to claim her arm. If she let him touch her, it was over.

Alize moved. She didn’t think. She just ran. She tore through the crowd, her silk skirts sweeping the stone floor, ignoring the shocked gasps of the courtiers. She intercepted Caldwell just as he reached the center of the hall, throwing herself into his path. Caldwell stopped, his massive frame towering over her.

His amber eyes narrowed, assessing the trembling woman blocking his way. The entire court held its collective breath. To touch the alpha king uninvited was a death sentence, but Alize didn’t care. She looked up at him, tears of pure terror stinging her eyes, and closed the distance. She pressed her trembling hands against his chest.

His heart was beating in a slow, steady rhythm, utterly calm beneath his armor. She leaned up on her tiptoes, putting her lips inches from his ear, and whispered the most reckless words of her life. Marry me for one day. Just twenty-four hours. Claim me, and I will give you my family eastern trading routes. Please, save me from him.

She waited for the rejection. She waited for him to shove her aside or mock her. Instead, a low, rumbling vibration began in Caldwell chest. It was a dark, dangerous sound, a chuckle. Caldwell tilted his head, his face coming so close to hers that she could feel the heat of his breath.

His gaze flicked over her shoulder, landing squarely on Garrick, who had frozen in his tracks, his face pale with fury and confusion. Caldwell lips curled into a predatory smirk. One day, Caldwell voice was a rough, gravelly baritone that sent a shiver down Alize spine. He wrapped a massive, calloused arm tightly around her waist, pulling her flush against his solid body.

Forever sounds better, little bird. Before Alize could process his words, Caldwell raised his voice, the commanding boom echoing off the vaulted ceilings. King Alden! Caldwell roared, not bowing, not showing a shred of deference. I have found the terms of our treaty lacking. I will sign your peace accord tonight, but I demand an addition.

I claim this woman, Alize of House Corvin, as my bride. Under the ancient laws of the Northern Reaches, we are bound from this moment forth. The hall erupted into chaos. King Alden sputtered on his throne. Garrick stepped forward, his face flushed with rage. You cannot do this! Garrick shouted, his polished facade cracking.

She is betrothed to me. The contract is written. Caldwell didn’t even look at Garrick. He simply unclasped a heavy silver cloak pin forged in the shape of a snarling wolf from his own shoulder. In one fluid motion, he pinned it to the bodice of Alize dress, right over her heart. It was the lycan mark of claiming.

The contract is ash, Caldwell snarled, his amber eyes finally fixing on Garrick with terrifying, lethal promise. Touch what is mine, Lord Garrick, and I will show you why the North has no need for graves. We let the crows feast. Garrick stepped back, swallowing hard, utterly humiliated in front of the entire kingdom.

Caldwell looked down at Alize, who was trembling, overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of what she had just done. He scooped her up into his arms effortlessly, carrying her bridal style. Hold on to me, he murmured, his voice softening just a fraction, meant only for her ears. We are leaving.

The journey out of the capital was a blur of frantic speed and biting cold. By midnight, Ethelred was nothing but a glowing ember in the distance. Alize sat huddled in the corner of an iron-reinforced carriage, wrapped in Caldwell heavy fur cloak. The Alpha King rode outside on his massive warhorse, escorting the carriage with a dozen of his most elite lycan guards.

The reality of her situation was finally settling in, heavy and terrifying. She had escaped Garrick, yes, but she had bound herself to a warlord, a man rumored to turn into a beast under the full moon, who ruled a land of ice and blood. She had asked for one day to find a way into exile. He had declared forever.

Hours bled into the early morning. The carriage rattled violently as it began the steep ascent into the White Pine Pass, the border between the human lands and the Northern Reaches. Suddenly, a deafening crack shattered the night air. The carriage lurched violently to the side, throwing Alize to the floor.

Outside, the sounds of shouting, clashing steel, and the agonized whinnying of horses erupted. Garrick had not let her go. He couldn’t risk a direct war with the king knowledge, but an ambush by bandits in the lawless pass, that was exactly Garrick style. He had sent mercenaries. Alize scrambled to the carriage window.

In the moonlight, she saw dozens of heavily armed men swarming the lycan guards, but her eyes were drawn to Caldwell. He was surrounded by six men. A sword slashed across his back, tearing through his armor. Any normal man would have fallen. Caldwell merely staggered, a low, guttural growl vibrating through the frigid air.

Then the true horror and majesty of the Alpha King was revealed. Caldwell dropped his sword. He fell to his knees, his hands clawing at the snow. Alize gasped as she watched the horrifying, beautiful violence of the shift. His bones cracked and realigned with sickening pops. His muscles expanded, tearing the remnants of his tunic to shreds.

Thick, midnight black fur erupted from his skin. His face elongated into a terrifying muzzle filled with razor-sharp teeth. Within seconds, the man was gone. In his place stood a monstrous, red-eyed wolf the size of a draft horse. The mercenaries screamed. Some tried to run, but it was useless.

The Lycan King moved with blinding, lethal speed. It wasn’t a battle. It was an execution. Alize watched, her heart hammering against her ribs, but strangely, she didn’t feel the paralyzing fear she had felt with Garrick. When Garrick looked at her, she felt like prey. Watching this terrifying beast tear through her enemies, Alize felt protected.

Silence eventually fell over the pass, save for the howling wind. The massive black wolf approached the carriage. Its muzzle was stained with blood. It leaned its massive head through the broken window, its red eyes locking onto Alize. It huffed, hot breath misting in the cold air, scanning her for injuries.

Alize slowly reached out a trembling hand. The wolf didn’t snap. It lowered its head, allowing her delicate fingers to brush against the coarse, blood-matted fur between its ears. A deep, rumbling, purr-like growl vibrated from the beast chest. Thank you, she whispered into the darkness.

By dawn, they had set up a temporary camp deeper in the mountains to tend to the wounded. Caldwell had shifted back to his human form. He sat near a fire, shirtless, while a healer stitched the deep sword gash across his back. He didn’t even flinch. Alize approached him nervously, holding a cup of hot broth.

She handed it to him. He took it, his fingers brushing hers. They were scorching hot. Why did you say forever? Alise asked softly, the question that had been burning in her chest finally escaping. I only promised you the trading routes for a day of protection. You could have left me at a convent.

Caldwell took a sip of the broth, his amber eyes studying the fire before lifting to meet hers. Do you know how lycan mates are chosen, Alise? he asked, his voice low and raspy. She shook her head. I thought it was political, like us. Caldwell let out a bitter laugh. For humans, perhaps. For us, it is blood. It is scent. It is the soul recognizing its other half.

When you ran toward me in that hall, I didn’t care about your family trading routes. The moment you touched my chest, my wolf recognized you. You are my true mate. Alise stared at him, her mind spinning. But, I am human. I have no magic. I am just a lord daughter.

You are mine, Caldwell stated simply, possessing a feral certainty that left no room for argument. Garrick is a dead man walking for what he subjected you to. You are safe now. But, understand this, Alise. There is no unbinding a true mate. You are the queen of the north now.

The towering obsidian spires of Kaylen Keep pierced the gray northern sky. It was a brutalist fortress carved directly into the side of a frozen mountain, a stark contrast to the delicate marble palaces of the south. As the iron gates groaned open, Alise realized she had traded one gilded cage for an iron fortress.

The courtyard was packed with Caldwell people. They weren’t dressed in silks. They wore leathers, furs, and armor. They were fierce, wild, and fiercely loyal to their alpha. But, as Alise stepped down from the carriage, the silence that greeted her was deafening. She could feel hundreds of eyes judging her.

They smelled her human scent. They saw her soft, southern clothes. To them, she was weak. Caldwell stood close by her side, his presence an unspoken threat to anyone who dared disrespect her, but he could not protect her from the whispers. The most dangerous of these whispers came from Lady Rowena.

Rowena was a high-ranking female of the pack, a striking woman with silver hair and eyes like chipped ice. She had long believed she was destined to be Caldwell mate and Luna of the pack. Watching a fragile human claim the throne drove her to a silent, seething fury.

During Alise first week at Kaylen Keep, the hostility was subtle but pervasive. Her meals were brought cold. The fire in her chambers was intentionally left unlit. When she walked the stone halls, conversations stopped and the pack members turned their backs. Caldwell was deeply occupied, preparing his borders for the inevitable fallout with the human kingdom, leaving Alise isolated in a fortress of predators.

But Alise of House Corvin had survived two years of Garrick psychological torture. She was not about to be broken by cold soup and icy stares. The true crisis struck on the eighth day. Caldwell summoned Alise to the war room. The atmosphere was incredibly tense.

Surrounding the large oak table were Caldwell top generals and Lady Rowena, who stood with her arms crossed, a smug smile playing on her lips. We have received a raven from King Alden, Caldwell announced, his voice tight with suppressed rage. He unrolled a parchment bearing the royal seal.

Lord Garrick has formally accused you, Alise, of high treason. He claims that on the night you fled, you stole the Sunstone relic from his estate, a magical artifact vital to the crown defenses. King Alden has declared that if I do not return you to face execution, the human armies will march on the reaches.

Alise felt the blood drain from her face. That is a lie. I took nothing from him. I barely escaped with the clothes on my back. It matters little if it is a lie, Rowena sneered, stepping forward. The humans are looking for an excuse to slaughter us. And you, little bird, have given it to them. We cannot risk thousands of lycan lives for a fragile human who doesn’t even belong here.

Alpha, you must give her back. Several generals murmured in agreement. The pressure in the room was crushing. Silence! Caldwell roared, slamming his fist onto the table, cracking the thick oak. She is my mate. She is your queen. To hand her over is to forfeit our honor.

She is a liability! Rowena shouted back, her eyes flashing yellow. She brings us nothing but war. Alise hands trembled. Garrick was brilliant. He knew Caldwell wouldn’t give her up easily, so he engineered a scenario where Caldwell own people would turn against her.

Desperate, Alise thought back to the night she left. She had packed nothing. The only thing she had on her person was the heirloom necklace her late mother had given her, which she wore hidden beneath her bodice. Wait, Alise said, her voice shaking but gaining strength. The Sunstone relic.

Garrick always coveted my mother jewelry. He tried to take it from me the week before the gala. She reached into her dress and pulled out a heavy, tarnished silver locket on a thick chain. It was engraved with strange, jagged runes she had never been able to read.

When the locket hit the light of the war room, the entire room gasped. Rowena stepped back, her smug expression evaporating into pure shock. Caldwell stared at the necklace, his amber eyes wide. Where did you get that? My mother, Alise whispered. She said it belonged to my grandmother, who came from the deep woods.

That is no human jewelry, Caldwell said softly, stepping closer. He reached out and touched the metal. As his skin made contact, the dull silver suddenly flared to life, glowing with a fierce ethereal blue light. That is the moon tear, one of the elder generals breathed, dropping to his knees. The lost artifact of the first Luna. It was stolen from our ancestors three centuries ago.

Caldwell looked from the glowing necklace to Alise, a slow triumphant smile spreading across his face. He turned to face Rowena and his generals. Garrick accused my mate of stealing a human relic to start a war, Caldwell said, his voice echoing with absolute authority. Instead, she has returned the most sacred relic of our people. She is not just my chosen mate. The ancestors have brought her to us.

Rowena paled, bowing her head in sudden forced submission. The generals followed suit. In one swift motion, Alise went from a hated human outsider to a revered figure of prophecy. But as Caldwell pulled her close, resting his chin on her head, Alise knew this wasn’t over.

Garrick lie had failed to turn the pack against her, but his armies were still coming. And worse, Alise began to realize that if she possessed the bloodline of the first Luna, she wasn’t entirely human herself. Deep within her, a dormant wild energy was beginning to awaken.

Opening hook: She traded a single day of marriage to escape a monster, never expecting the Alpha King to claim her soul. But when an ancient lycan power awakens in her veins, she must choose. Flee as a fragile mortal girl, or slaughter her enemies as the terrifying queen of the north.

The revelation of the moon tear sent shock waves through Kaylen Keep, but the profound shift within Alise herself was infinitely more terrifying. For twenty-two years, she had lived as a human, fragile, easily bruised, and acutely vulnerable to the cold. But in the days following the war room confrontation, her body began to betray her mortal upbringing.

It started with the senses. The sharp metallic tang of blood from the kitchens, previously undetectable from the upper towers, now assaulted her nose. She could hear the rhythmic thud of Caldwell heartbeat even when he was three corridors away. Her skin, once pale and prone to shivering in the drafty stone halls, now burned with an unquenchable internal furnace.

She no longer needed the heavy furs Caldwell draped over her. The freezing blizzards of the northern reaches felt like a gentle spring breeze against her skin. But the most alarming change was the visceral predatory hunger that curled in her gut, accompanied by sudden blinding flashes of yellow in her peripheral vision when she looked in the mirror.

You are changing, little bird, Caldwell murmured one evening. His large hands gently traced the prominent line of her spine as they sat before the roaring hearth in their chambers. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, his lips lingering against her heated skin. Your grandmother was a pureblood lycan, a descendant of the first Luna who fled into the human lands to escape a pack war centuries ago. Your human father blood kept the wolf dormant within you. But my bite, my claim, it acts as a catalyst. I have awoken the beast.

Alise leaned back against his solid chest, staring at the tarnished silver locket that rested heavily between her collarbones. And if the beast consumes me, I have no training, Caldwell. I am a lord daughter who spent her days embroidering tapestries and balancing ledger books.

You are my mate, he growled softly, a sound that sent a thrilling shiver down her newly sensitive spine. You survived Garrick psychological warfare for two years. You have the heart of an apex predator, Alise. You only lack the fangs, and I will teach you how to use them.

Their peaceful solitude was violently shattered two days later. The warning horns of Kaylen Keep blew a deep mournful note that rattled the stained glass of the high towers. Alise rushed to the battlements, wrapping a dark cloak over her leather riding gear. Caldwell was already there, his jaw clenched so tightly a muscle ticked violently in his cheek.

Spread across the snowy plains below the fortress was a staggering human army. But it was not King Alden royal guard. It was a private, ruthless legion. The Crimson Company, Caldwell spat, his amber eyes narrowing at the sea of crimson banners snapping in the biting wind. Mercenaries. The most expensive, bloodthirsty army gold can buy. Led by Commander Thomas of the Southern Wastes. King Alden is a coward. He let Garrick hire a private army to wage a shadow war, giving the crown plausible deniability.

At the front of the formation, mounted on a massive armored stallion, was Lord Garrick. Even from this distance, Alize could feel the malicious weight of his gaze. He rode forward under a white flag of parley, flanked by Commander Thomas. Caldwell vaulted effortlessly onto the stone parapet, his booming voice carrying across the frozen expanse.

You trespass on sovereign lycan soil, Garrick. Turn back, or your men will feed the ravens. Garrick cruel laughter drifted up to them. I have not come for your miserable frozen rocks, Caldwell. I have come for my property. Hand over my betrothed and the stolen artifact, and I will let your savages live.

Alize stepped up beside Caldwell, gripping the stone edge of the wall. I am not your property, Garrick. I am the queen of the north, and you will find nothing but your grave here. Garrick smile vanished, replaced by a snarl of pure, unadulterated obsession.

Do you think I wanted you for your father pathetic trading routes, Alize, you naive little fool? I discovered your grandmother lineage in the royal archives three years ago. I knew what slumbered in your blood. I endured your tedious weeping fragility because I needed a vessel. A lycan-human hybrid bred to my command would give me the ultimate weapon to conquer both realms.

Alize froze, the sheer depravity of his master plan hitting her like a physical blow. He had isolated her, tormented her, and broken her down all to make her a submissive incubator for a monster army. She belongs to me by right of contract, Garrick screamed, dropping the white flag. If I cannot drag her back, I will take her from your corpse, beast. Fire the siege engines.

The sky darkened. But these were no ordinary boulders flying from the trebuchets. Incoming! Lady Rowena yelled from the lower ramparts. The payloads exploded midair, raining a fine glittering metallic dust over the courtyard. The moment the dust touched the lycan warriors, screams of agony erupted.

Aerosolized silver and wolfsbane, Caldwell realized, coughing as the burning powder singed the edges of his cloak. He grabbed Alize and shoved her toward the fortified doors of the keep. Get inside. The silver is poisoning the air. It will strip us of our ability to shift.

I am not leaving you, Alize cried, coughing as the toxic smoke began to fill the courtyard. You are human enough that it will not burn you, but it will kill my men if we do not break their line, Caldwell commanded, his amber eyes glowing furiously as he drew his massive broadsword. He cupped her face, his thumb smudging ash across her cheek. Stay behind the iron doors. If I do not return, take the southern tunnels and run.

Before she could protest, he kissed her, a fierce, desperate brand of a kiss, and turned away. Warriors of the north! Caldwell roared, his voice cutting through the sounds of human war drums. For our home! For our Luna!

He didn’t shift. He couldn’t. The silver dust saturating the air suppressed his lycan biology, forcing him to fight in his human form. But even as a man, the Alpha King was a devastating force of nature. He charged through the gates, leading a vanguard of his most elite guards directly into the mercenary lines.

Alize watched from the barred windows of the great hall as the battle raged. The Crimson Company was highly disciplined, forming a shield wall laced with silver-tipped spears. Caldwell tore through them like a god of war, his broadsword cleaving through armor and bone, his speed unnatural even in his weakened state.

But there were simply too many. For every mercenary Caldwell felled, two more stepped forward to take his place. Garrick sat safely on a ridge overlooking the slaughter, directing his archers to fire volley after volley of silver arrows into the lycan ranks. Alize watched as a heavy crossbow bolt struck Caldwell shoulder, the silver burning his flesh on contact. He staggered, dropping to one knee. Commander Thomas closed in, raising a heavy battle axe to deliver the killing blow to the Alpha King.

Panic, cold and absolute, gripped Alize heart. No. She had not survived Garrick cruelty to watch the man who saved her die in the snow. She had asked him for one day, and he had given her forever. It was time she fought for it.

Alize looked down at her chest. The moon tear was pulsing, emitting a blinding rhythmic blue light that matched the frantic beating of her own heart. The power Caldwell said was sleeping in her veins, she could feel it now. It wasn’t the feral, bone-cracking transformation of the wolves. It was something older, something deeply connected to the pale moon that had just begun to rise in the darkening afternoon sky.

Without thinking, Alize threw open the heavy iron doors of the keep. My queen, stop! Lady Rowena yelled, clutching a silver burn on her arm as she tried to pull Alize back. But Alize didn’t stop. She ran down the stone steps and out onto the blood-soaked snow of the battlefield.

The silver dust swirling in the air did not burn her. Instead, it seemed to part around her, repelled by the escalating blue aura of the amulet on her chest. Garrick! she screamed, her voice echoing with a strange dual resonance, her own voice layered with the howling of a thousand ancient wolves.

The entire battlefield seemed to freeze at the sound of her voice. Garrick wheeled his horse around, his eyes widening in shock as he saw the frail, broken girl he had once terrorized walking onto the killing field. But she did not look fragile anymore. Alize was glowing.

The moon tear had levitated from her chest, hovering just inches from her skin, radiating a brilliant silvery blue shockwave that rippled across the snow. Where the light touched the lycans, the silver burns on their skin hissed and began to heal. Where it touched the Crimson Company mercenaries, the magic felt like a crushing gravitational weight, dropping men to their knees.

Caldwell looked up from the mud, the crossbow bolt in his shoulder suddenly dissolving into harmless ash. His amber eyes locked onto Alize in pure, unfiltered awe. The First Luna blessing, Rowena whispered from the keep gates, falling to her knees in reverence.

Garrick shock quickly morphed into rabid, greedy desperation. Look at her! he screamed to his men. Take her alive! Break the alpha and bring the girl to me! I will pay ten thousand gold pieces to the man who brings me her head, safely detached from her power!

Commander Thomas, blinded by the promise of wealth, shook off the magical pressure and charged at Alize with his axe raised high. Alize didn’t flinch. She raised her hand. The feral beast within her blood didn’t require fur or fangs to manifest. It flowed out of her in a wave of raw, kinetic lunar energy.

A blast of blue light erupted from her palm, striking the massive mercenary in the chest and hurling him thirty feet backward into his own men. He lay motionless in the snow. Caldwell, Alize commanded, her eyes turning a radiant unnatural silver. The silver in the air is purged. Shift.

Caldwell needed no further invitation. With a deafening, thunderous roar, the Alpha King unleashed the beast. His bones snapped, his form expanding into the towering, nightmarish black wolf. This time, rejuvenated by Alize magic, he was larger, faster, and wreathed in a faint blue aura of her protection.

The slaughter that followed was swift and absolute. The lycan warriors, freed from the silver poison, shifted in a cascade of terrifying snarls and cracking bones. The Crimson Company, once the most feared human army in the realm, broke formation and fled in sheer terror.

But there was no outrunning a lycan pack defending their Luna. Garrick realized he had lost. His private army was being ripped to shreds. His grand, twisted vision of breeding a monster army was evaporating before his eyes. He spurred his horse, turning desperately to flee back toward the human border.

No, you don’t, Alize whispered. She focused all the ancient, simmering rage she had suppressed for two years. The moon tear flared with blinding intensity. A beam of silver moonlight shot from the sky, striking the ground directly in front of Garrick horse.

The beast reared in panic, throwing Garrick brutally into the frozen mud. Garrick scrambled backward, his velvet cloak ruined, his sword trembling in his grasp as he looked up. Looming over him was the massive black wolf. Caldwell bared fangs the size of daggers, a low, rumbling growl shaking the earth beneath Garrick boots.

But Caldwell did not attack. He simply pinned Garrick to the ground with one massive paw, the claws digging just enough into the human lord chest to draw blood. Caldwell looked back at Alize, who was walking slowly across the battlefield toward them, the glowing aura around her fading to a soft, ethereal shimmer. Caldwell was offering her the kill, the ultimate revenge.

Alize stood over the man who had made her life a living hell. She looked down at his pathetic, sniveling face. The terrifying monster of her nightmares was nothing more than a weak, greedy coward in the dirt. Please, Garrick whimpered, tears streaking his mud-caked face. Alize, my sweet Alize, remember our betrothal. I loved you. I was only trying to protect your legacy. Show mercy.

Alize stared at him, her silver eyes cold and devoid of pity. You know nothing of mercy, Garrick, and you know nothing of love. She looked at Caldwell, the terrifying alpha who had given her a crown, a home, and the power to reclaim her own life. She smiled, a gentle, human smile.

I have no desire to stain my hands with the blood of a coward, Alize said smoothly, stepping back. Under the laws of the northern reaches, he attacked the alpha mate. Do what you must, my king. The black wolf eyes flashed with fierce approval.

Garrick opened his mouth to scream, but the sound was abruptly cut short by the sickening crunch of jaws snapping shut. Silence descended upon Kaylen Keep, broken only by the howling wind and the heavy breathing of the wolves.

Caldwell shifted back into his human form, his chest heaving, covered in the blood of his enemies. He didn’t care about the watching pack or the dead mercenaries. He crossed the distance between him and Alize in three massive strides, pulling her into a crushing, desperate embrace.

You foolish, brave, magnificent woman, he rasped, burying his face in her hair. You saved us all. Alize wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head against his steady, thumping heartbeat. The lingering cold of the north felt like home now.

I told you I would give you my family trading routes. Caldwell pulled back, a genuine, booming laugh escaping his lips, a sound the fortress hadn’t heard in decades. Keep your trading routes, little bird. I have already claimed my prize.

From the edge of the courtyard, a single howl rose into the night sky. It was Lady Rowena. She dropped to one knee, bowing her head in absolute submission to Alize. One by one, the rest of the pack followed. The warriors, the elders, the injured, every lycan present knelt before the human woman who wielded the power of the moon. They did not just accept her as Caldwell mate. They worshipped her as their queen.

Later that night, as the castle began to rebuild and the fires roared back to life, Alize stood on the balcony of their chambers overlooking the sprawling, beautiful, jagged wilderness of her new kingdom. Caldwell stepped up behind her, wrapping a thick fur cloak around her shoulders, though she no longer needed it for warmth. He rested his chin on the crown of her head, his arms holding her tightly against his chest.

Twenty-four hours, Caldwell murmured, his voice a low rumble against her ear. That was our bargain. Alize turned in his arms, looking up into his fierce amber eyes. She reached up, tracing the scar on his cheek, feeling the untamed ancient magic thrumming between them. She was no longer a victim running from a nightmare. She was the nightmare her enemies would fear.

A poor bargain, my alpha, Alize whispered, rising onto her toes to press her lips to his. Forever sounds much better.