Chapter 3 The Alpha's Bed Isn't Safe

Raven had been in many beds-fancy, filthy, even freezing cold ones on rooftops when the job demanded it. But none had ever felt like this.

Lucien's bed was carved from dark obsidian wood, heavy and ancient, like it had witnessed things it would never dare speak. Black silk sheets. Gray velvet pillows. The mattress felt like sin and smoke.

And she was in it.

Trapped.

She sat on the edge, muscles tense, trying not to breathe too deeply. His scent was everywhere-cedar, musk, and something wild, like the woods after a lightning strike. She hated that it made her dizzy.

Lucien stood by the window, shirt unbuttoned halfway, golden eyes catching the moonlight. His body was inked with markings that looked more tribal than decorative. Every inch of him radiated power and danger.

"I'm not sleeping in your bed," she snapped.

He didn't look at her. "You already are."

"I'll take the floor."

"No."

She stood. "I'm not your toy, Drax."

"No, Raven," he said, turning slowly, voice dropping like thunder, "you're my mate."

The words echoed like a curse.

Raven shook her head. "That's impossible."

Lucien stalked closer. "Then explain why I can feel your pulse in my teeth."

She backed into the wall. "You're insane."

He raised a brow. "I told you that."

Then, as if snapping out of it, he stepped away. Gave her space. Walked to the far side of the room and picked up a decanter of dark amber liquid.

"I'm not going to force you," he said, pouring himself a drink. "But don't mistake that for weakness."

She didn't respond. She just paced, trying to make sense of it all.

"You said others are hunting me," she finally said. "The Nightfangs?"

He nodded. "A rival pack. Older. Crueler. They want you because of what's in your blood."

"And what is that exactly?"

"Something no one's seen in centuries," he said. "Something that could make them unstoppable."

"Great," she muttered. "So I'm basically a magical loot box."

Lucien smiled darkly. "More like a throne with a heartbeat."

Raven walked to the balcony doors, cracked them open. The wind was cold. Below, the city stretched-dark, glittering, alive. She felt trapped and exposed all at once.

"You said I was yours," she said softly. "Is that some kind of werewolf claim thing?"

"Yes."

"But I didn't agree."

"You don't have to," he said, stepping behind her. "Fate did."

She felt the heat of him, just a breath away.

"Stop standing so close," she whispered.

He didn't.

"You smell like trouble," she added.

"I am."

She turned to face him-and froze.

His pupils had dilated, gold turning to black. His jaw clenched, veins in his neck pulsing. He was fighting something.

"Lucien?"

His voice was rough. "The bond's waking up. I can feel every breath you take like a knife to the ribs."

"Is that normal?"

"No."

Then he stepped back again-fast, too fast.

"You need to stay away from me tonight."

"Why?"

"Because if I touch you," he said, dragging a hand down his face, "I won't stop."

She should have run.

Instead, she crossed her arms. "What exactly happens if this 'bond' completes?"

Lucien's voice went low. "You'll be mine. In every way. Mind, body, soul. No escape. Not even death."

She laughed bitterly. "Sounds romantic."

He looked at her then. Really looked.

"I don't want a mate, Raven. I don't want fate. I've built my kingdom on blood and violence, and you-" he paused, shaking his head. "You're a crack in the foundation. But I can't kill you, and I sure as hell can't let you go."

Silence stretched.

Until she said, "So I'm a problem."

He walked past her, brushing her shoulder with a whisper of heat.

"No," he said. "You're my problem."

And then he was gone.

The door shut with a finality that made her shiver.

Raven stood alone in his room, heart pounding. She wasn't sure if it was anger, fear, or something far more dangerous that made her tremble.

She crawled into the massive bed.

And didn't sleep.

Not because she couldn't.

But because she was starting to feel it too.

The pull.

The fire.

The bond.

Somewhere, in the deepest part of her, something ancient began to stir.

And it had Lucien's name on its tongue.