Claimed by the Alpha King

I had twenty minutes to kill the Alpha King before the moon rose.

That was the deadline. After that, the silver in my veins would begin to burn me from the inside out, but I didn’t care. The castle loomed above the jagged cliffs like an obsidian shard cutting through the mist, its stone gargoyles weeping frozen rain as if mourning the lives stolen within these walls. The Blackfang stronghold. The place where my brother’s voice had been silenced forever.

Tonight, I wasn’t a grieving sister. I was the executioner.

The corridor inside was suffocatingly quiet. Shadows stretched across the stone walls, fed by the dying embers of iron torches. I moved like smoke, every sense dialed to an agonizing pitch. My ears twitched at the distant rustle of the wind; my nose sorted through layers of ancient stone, ash, and the faint, bitter scent of wolf guards on the lower floors. My hand pressed against my thigh, feeling the cold, wicked bite of my dagger—forged in pure silver and steeped in concentrated nightshade. A single scratch. That was all it would take to bring a god to his knees.

I rounded the final corridor toward the royal quarters—and the air suddenly turned to ash.

A presence coiled around me, heavy, dominant, and ancient. It didn’t just fill the hallway; it demanded the oxygen straight from my lungs.

Then, a sound. A low, velvet vibration that rattled against my ribcage.

“You’re not very good at sneaking in, little thief.”

I froze.

That voice was silk dragged over gravel. Deep. Intoxicating. And entirely too close.

I forced my gaze upward, refusing to let my hands shake.

He stood at the end of the corridor, leaning casually against the stone. Shirtless. Barefoot. He didn’t look like a king caught off guard in the middle of the night; he looked like a predator who had been waiting patiently for his dinner to walk straight into the trap.

The flickering firelight licked a body sculpted by war and dark magic. Broad shoulders, a chest crisscrossed with pale, lethal scars, and heavy muscles that shifted with the lazy, terrifying grace of a wolf about to strike.

Kael. The Monster of the Blackfangs.

His midnight hair was damp, curling slightly at his temples as if he’d just returned from a run under the dark sky. But it was his eyes that stopped my heart. They weren’t the cold, dead colors of a killer; they were gold. A burning, molten gold trapped behind thick, dark lashes.

For years, I’d pictured the man who signed my brother's death warrant. I’d imagined a decrepit, twisted monster. A tyrant cloaked in stolen power.

I hadn't prepared for a man who looked like he could destroy me with a single kiss.

And then, the worst happened. Deep inside me, my wolf, usually silent and broken by grief, threw herself violently against the bars of my mind. Want. Belong. Him.

A sudden, fierce heat bloomed low in my belly, melting the ice in my veins. The scent hit me like a physical blow—rainwater, crushed pine needles, and a dark, dangerous musk that smelled like... home.

No. No, no, no.

Mate.

I clenched my jaw so hard it ached, my fury fighting the sudden, treasonous ache between my thighs. “You’re supposed to be in the grand hall,” I hissed, my voice a sharp contrast to the heavy silence.

Kael tilted his head, his golden eyes tracking the frantic pulse jumping at my throat. “And yet, here I am. And here you are. Wearing shadows like a dress, carrying a toy you don't know how to wield.”

I drew the blade in a blur of silver, the metal catching the torchlight. “I know exactly how to use it.”

He didn't flinch. He didn’t even shift his weight to defend himself. Instead, he took a slow, agonizing step forward, his bare feet making absolutely no sound against the freezing stone floor.

“I can hear your heartbeat from here,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, vibrating directly into my skin. “It’s frantic. Tell me... is it fear, or is your body recognizing what your mind is desperately trying to deny?”

I lunged.

I was fast, trained by the bitterest grief, but he was godlike.

Before the silver could graze his throat, his hand shot out. His grip closed around my wrist—iron wrapped in velvet. In one fluid, brutal motion, he spun me around and slammed my back into the stone wall. The impact knocked the air clean from my lungs.

The dagger clattered to the floor, ringing uselessly against the stone before rolling into the darkness.

Kael didn't back away. He pressed his entire body against mine, pinning me completely. The sheer mass of him was overwhelming. His chest, hot and hard as marble, crushed against my breasts. Every single point of contact sparked like wildfire, sending currents of electricity straight through my clothes.

“Let. Me. Go,” I growled, but it came out breathless, lacking the venom I intended.

He leaned down, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just below my ear. His breath was hot, sending a violent shiver straight down my spine. “You taste like anger,” he whispered, inhaling deeply against my neck, his jaw grazing my collarbone. “And you smell like mine.”

My body betrayed me completely. My thighs rubbed together instinctively, a desperate reaction to the friction of his thighs anchoring me to the wall. My skin grew painfully sensitive everywhere he touched. I wanted to scratch his eyes out, to tear his throat with my teeth, and yet—gods help me—I wanted to pull him closer. It was sickening.

“You killed him,” I choked out, trying to find my rage through the suffocating fog of the bond.

Kael paused. His golden eyes searched mine, a sudden flicker of something dark, ancient, and unreadable crossing his face. He didn't deny it. He didn't apologize.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for my mate,” he said softly, his thumb tracing a slow, torturous line over the inside of my wrist, right where my pulse hammered against his skin. “I just didn’t expect her to arrive with murder in her eyes.”

He stepped back slowly. The sudden loss of his body heat felt like a physical wound, leaving me shivering in the drafty corridor.

He looked down at the silver dagger on the floor, then back at me, a dangerous, knowing smirk touching his lips. He didn't call the guards. He didn't lock me up in the dungeons. He simply turned his back on an assassin.

Before vanishing into the shadows of the dark corridor, his voice floated back to me, wrapping around my ankles like an invisible leash.

“Run if you want, little wolf. Fight if it makes you feel safe. But you're mine now. And the moon always gets what it wants.”