Chapter 3 The Beast's Claim

Aria's lungs snagged on the air, every breath shaky, while the magic circle fizzed itself into oblivion beneath their boots. The hissing sound faded, but the memory of it stuck-like the last beat of a heart too stubborn to quit. What was left? Charred grass, a chemical ghost of sulfur clinging to the back of her throat, and the sense that if she closed her eyes, she'd still see that light burned into her retinas.

Kael, on the other hand, looked like the world could collapse and he'd just keep standing there. The man was a statue-except for his hand, anchored to the curve of her back, a little too possessive to be comforting. His other hand drifted up, thumb brushing her jaw, gentle but in that way that felt more like a claim than a caress. His eyes-those ridiculous molten gold eyes-were locked on hers, and honestly, it was a miracle she didn't burst into flames right then and there. The way he looked at her... it was like he'd been starved for a lifetime and she was the last meal on earth. Not hunger. Predation.

"I've waited centuries for you," he rasped, voice all gravel and thunder, something ancient and wild trembling underneath. "Don't look at me like I'm some stranger."

Aria's response was pure stubborn reflex. She shoved against his chest, which had about as much effect as trying to topple a mountain with a feather duster. "You are a stranger. And if you lay a finger on me again without permission-"

He didn't flinch. Didn't even blink. "You gave me permission," Kael growled, dragging her closer like gravity itself had opinions. "In flesh, in soul. It's written in you, even if you try to deny it."

His mouth brushed her neck, and that wasn't a kiss. No, it was a promise. A threat. Maybe both.

Which would've been bad enough, but the worst part was her own body-how it shivered, how she couldn't keep a little moan from escaping her lips. Shameful, electric, alive. His scent-earth after rain, smoke, and something wild-snaked through her, found the hunger she thought she'd buried lifetimes ago.

And just when she thought she'd drown in it, Kael let her go. No drama. Hands off, cold air hitting her skin where his touch lingered like a bruise. It actually hurt, that absence.

Kael's whole body was tension, teeth clenched like he was holding back a storm. "We can do this the hard way, Aria," he said, voice curling around her like smoke, "or you can come to me, when the memories break loose. When you remember what you begged for in the Temple of Thorns. Naked. Knees in the dust. Smiling as you burned me alive."

The words hit her like a slap. Her face went up in flames. Liar, liar, liar, she told herself, but the memory-her hands tangled in blood-soaked robes, old words spilling out, Kael's mouth, her own desperate ache-crept in anyway, sticky and impossible to ignore.

She tried to speak. No words came.

Kael flashed a wicked, knowing grin and ghosted into the shadows. Didn't even bother with the dramatic smoke show. One blink and poof-gone.

-

She ran. Not gracefully, not with any real plan, just the raw need to move. To get away from the courtyard, away from the memory clawing at her ribs. She tore through the gardens, the statues of old gods glinting with frost in the moonlight, marble slick beneath her feet. She didn't stop until she found herself at the sealed entrance to the catacombs, deep beneath Stormwatch Keep.

Only ancient nobles knew how to find it. Only she, apparently, was desperate enough to try.

The door was carved from obsidian, runes slashed across it like battle scars. Her family used to spin tales about it-like it was some cozy bedtime story. The First Moonborn Daughter, the Beast King who loved her, the kiss that started a war, the curse that nearly burned the world to ash. It always sounded so romantic, so tragic.

Only now, the story was real. And she was the monster at the center.

She pressed her palm against the cold black stone. It thudded once, like a heartbeat, and the crescent scar on her chest glowed in answer.

The door slid open.

Inside, the walls were covered with murals-a gallery of her own faces, over and over. One life, she was a queen, Kael kneeling at her feet, sword in hand. Another, a healer, bleeding herself dry to save him. Another, a sorceress, riding him on a throne made of skulls and bones. Every life, the same story: her and Kael, tangled together, doomed to die. Over and over. Always her choice. Always blood.

She staggered back, heart hammering with rage and something like despair. "I won't be your puppet again!" she screamed at the empty chamber, voice echoing back at her.

-

That night, Aria slammed her bedroom door like she could lock the whole world out. She poured herself a glass (okay, three) of blackcurrant wine, and let the sweet burn numb her tongue. She stripped off her gown, rubbed herself down with lavender oil, tried every old remedy her mother ever taught her to chase away nightmares.

Didn't matter. She couldn't stop touching the crescent mark on her chest. Couldn't stop pressing her thighs together, heat building, restless and sharp. She should've hated him. Should've been terrified. Should've run.

Instead, she crawled into bed, one hand drifting down, chasing the ache he'd left behind. She bit her lip, eyes squeezed shut, and let Kael's name slip out, soft and helpless.

-

She was right there-lost in the haze-when he reappeared.

He didn't knock. Didn't even bother with the courtesy of solid footsteps. One second, she was alone, and the next, Kael was standing at the foot of her bed, shadows clinging to him like a second skin. His fangs flashed, golden eyes molten, burning with want and something angrier, darker. Not at her. At himself. The man looked like he hated every inch of how much he needed her.

Aria froze, hand still between her thighs, cheeks burning.

"Get. Out." Her voice was steel, even if her body was betraying her in every way it knew how.

Kael just stared at her. A long, loaded silence. Then he growled-low, hungry, barely human.

"I told myself I'd wait this time. That I'd let you come to me."

He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, eyes pinned to her naked, trembling body.

"But then I saw you. Touching yourself. Moaning my name."

She lunged for the dagger on her nightstand.

Too slow. He had her wrists pinned above her head in a heartbeat, the other hand tearing the sheet away like it was nothing. She was naked, flushed, exposed in the firelight.

"Kael-" she gasped.

"Say it again," he demanded, voice frayed and raw. "Say my name like you do when you're dreaming."

She arched, furious at him, at herself, at the gods for ever writing this curse. But she still said it.

"Kael..."

He kissed her, hard, wild, desperate. Teeth, tongue, heat-like he was trying to brand her with memory. He tasted like old sins and old promises.

His hand trailed down her thigh, then between her legs-and when he found her wet, he grinned. Not like a man. Like a beast who'd finally caught what he was hunting.

And Aria, goddess help her, wanted to be caught.

So ready for me. Even now."

"I hate you," she gasped.

"Lie to yourself. Not to me."

And then he was inside her-not just flesh, but soul, the kind of claiming that set the magic in the air on fire. She cried out, clutching at him, trying to hold herself together as pleasure tore her apart.

He didn't go slow.

He took her like he owned her-rough, deep, grinding into her until the entire bed rattled and her cries turned feral. His hand around her throat, his mouth on her breast, his name a curse on her tongue-

And when she came, she screamed.

Not just for the orgasm.

For the truth burning through her veins.

For the curse she'd reignited with every thrust.

For the beast she could never run from again.