Chapter 3

Clarice POV:

The Serpent King's castle wasn't a hole in the ground.

It was a fortress of black stone perched on a cliff overlooking the churning ocean, hidden by mist. Inside, it was a cathedral of shadows and luxury. Heated marble floors, gold-threaded tapestries, the scent of ozone and incense.

*It was our wedding night.*

I sat on the edge of the massive bed, the black silk sheets cool against my legs. My heart hammered. Not fear. Anticipation.

Draco entered. He'd shed the suit for a loose silk robe. His chest was lean, defined by corded muscle, skin so pale it glowed in the candlelight.

He stopped, hesitating. The arrogant King looked unsure.

"Clarice," he said, voice rough. "You don't have to. The Oath binds me to protect you, not... force you." He looked at his hands. "I am not like your kind. My body temp is low. My... anatomy is different. I don't want to scare you."

I stood up. *The floor was warm, but I sought the cold.*

"Draco," I said. "Do you think I chose you just to escape them?"

"Didn't you?"

"No." I placed my hand over his heart. *Thump... thump...* Slow. Powerful. "I chose you because when the world burned, you were the only one who looked at me."

I slid my hand up his neck, tangling fingers in his dark hair. "Show me. Show me your true self."

Draco shuddered. A low hiss escaped him.

He kissed me. His mouth was cool, tasting of mint and danger. *The spark wasn't just physical; it was a lightning strike to the soul.*

He lifted me effortlessly. As clothes fell away, I saw patches of iridescent scales along his ribs-beautiful armor. And when he moved over me, I realized the rumors about Serpent endurance were severe understatements.

"Mine," he growled, eyes fully slitted.

"Yours," I gasped.

He didn't bite my neck like a wolf. He pressed his forehead to mine, and I felt his energy-cool, dark, infinite-pour into me. A spiritual marking deeper than teeth.

*We moved together, fire and ice. For the first time in two lifetimes, the burning fever in my blood settled into a perfect, cool rhythm.*

*

Three months later.

The summons arrived on heavy parchment. A "Celebration of Life" banquet at the Silver Moon Pack.

"You don't have to go," Draco said, braiding my hair.

"I want to," I said, looking at my glowing reflection. I'd gained healthy weight. "I want to see her."

The Pack House was raucous. Wolves drinking, feasting.

Bella sat on a throne next to Jacob.

*She was massive.*

"Clarice!" Bella called, voice shrill. She rubbed her belly. It looked like she was carrying a medicine ball. Impossible for three months. "So kind of you to come. Wanted you to see what a real Alpha heir looks like."

She smirked at my flat stomach.

"Still nothing?" she cooed. "I told you. Snakes shoot blanks. Or maybe you're just barren. Like always."

I walked closer, Draco a silent shadow at my side. I sniffed the air.

Wolf pregnancies smell milky, earthy.

*Bella smelled like rotting fruit and sulfur. And underneath... chemicals.*

"That's a very large baby, Bella," I said. "Sure it's... healthy?"

"Of course it is!" Bella snapped, eyes darting nervously. "It's a strong boy. Alpha blood makes them grow fast! You wouldn't understand."

"Rapid growth usually implies instability," I said. "Or external enhancement."

Jacob slammed his goblet down. "Watch your tongue! You're jealous my seed took root and your snake's didn't!"

Draco stepped forward. He stared at Bella's stomach.

"That is not a wolf," Draco said. His voice cut the room like a razor.

"What?" Bella screeched.

"I hear three heartbeats," Draco said impassively. "None of them sound like a wolf."

Bella turned white, clutching her stomach. "Get out! You're trying to curse my baby!"

*I saw her hands shaking. Her nails were bitten to the quick. She knew. She knew something was wrong, but she was too deep in the lie to stop.*

"We're leaving," I said. "But Bella... don't say I didn't warn you."

As we walked away, I felt a flutter in my lower abdomen. Not a kick. A swirl of energy.

I looked up at Draco. He was smiling a secret, knowing smile.

"Let them have their circus," he whispered. "We have our own miracle."