Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King

The sight of her stole his breath clean.

Without hesitation, Nicholas closed the distance and crushed her against his chest. Her scent hit him like a drug, but beneath it lingered the unmistakable bite of salt.

He pulled back, finding her eyes. Tears. A sharp pang twisted in his chest.

She looked away from him. ”I missed you.”

”Hey,” he whispered. ”I’m coming for you, and when I do, I’m never letting you go. You’re supposed to be next to me here.”

”Nick, I—we—”

The words barely left her mouth before he lifted her off the ground. He didn’t realize he did it until her legs were wrapped around his waist and their lips were an inch apart. For a second, neither of them moved. Then she started kissing him like she was starving. He groaned into her mouth, hands gripping her ass as he walked her backward until her back hit the wall.

His hips moved, grinding on her as his wolf howled in victory.

Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate.

Her legs tightened around him and the friction alone almost ended him. He pressed his forehead to hers, breathing hard, trying and failing to slow down.

”Nick,” she whispered, rolling her hips against him.

”Tell me this is real,” he said.

She kissed him instead of answering, which should have been his first warning.

He unbelted his trousers, enough to free himself, pulled her dress aside, and thrust into her in one hard stroke.

”Fuck, you’re so tight for me,” he groaned, pushing deeper until he was fully seated. ”That’s it, baby. Take every inch.”

He kept pumping into her, hips snapping, lost in the tight heat of her body as she clenched around him.

But then he noticed her wolf was at the surface and he couldn’t tell if she was fighting for control or if she wanted it.

”Guinevere—”

She gasped as her body began spasming around him in tight, rhythmic waves that milked him mercilessly. The sensation was too much, bringing him over the edge instantly. He came hard, flooding her with thick, powerful spurts of his release while his body refused to slow down.

He didn’t want to stop. He couldn’t. This felt so right. He could sense how close she was to shattering around him again through their matebond.

”Don’t fight it,” he rasped against her ear. ”Let go for me.”

”Nicholas—”

She was right there, trembling on the edge, when thick black smoke exploded into the room. Nicholas swore violently, pulling out of her, and reached for his blade in one frantic motion.

”Stay behind me!” he shouted.

Every torch in the room went out simultaneously, plunging them into total darkness.

A high-pitched scream cut through the black.

Nicholas whipped around but couldn’t see her. ”GUINEVERE!”

He groped desperately in the darkness. ”Guinevere! Answer me.”

”Nicho—” Her voice cut off mid-word with a sickening crunch, followed by a warmth that sprayed across his hands and face.

”No!” The word ripped out of him. ”No, no, no.”

He dove into the smoke, hands outstretched, feeling around for her. The air burned his lungs. He inhaled it anyway because air was how he screamed and screaming was how he found her.

”GUINEVERE!”

He screamed it again and again, each time hoarser, each time more desperate, choking on smoke between syllables. He kept going because stopping meant losing her and he would suffocate on her name before he let that happen.

His wolf howled inside his skull, pulling him through the dark, following the thread that connected them across any distance, through any smoke, through any blood, through any version of hell the universe constructed to keep him from reaching her.

Then he found her in the dark. Cold skin. His hands found her face. Temple. Cheekbone. Jaw. Then lower, where his fingertips caught on a gash across her throat so deep the blood was still pulsing out in weakening waves.

”No, no, no.”

He pulled her against him, and her blood soaked into his shirt. He pressed his lips to her head.

”This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he said against her hair. ”You were supposed to be next to me. Every day. Every night. You were supposed to be with me, Guinevere, because you are mine.”

His voice gave out on the last word and the sound that came out of him was something he’d never made before. Low. Broken. The kind of grief that doesn’t ask for permission. His shoulders shook. He held her tighter because loosening his grip meant accepting it, and he was not accepting it.

”I was coming for you, baby,” he whispered. ”I’m so sorry.”

Nicholas sat bolt upright in bed, heart slamming against his ribs.

Damon’s voice cut through the fog. ”Get me a healer now.”

”Yes, Beta,” a guard replied.

Nicholas blinked hard, trying to clear his head. His Beta was hovering over him, along with three guards and his Gamma.

Before he could ask what was happening, he turned and vomited violently over the side of the bed.

”The healer is on his way, Nick,” Damon said. ”Is that blood?”

Nicholas blinked down at it, disoriented. That was definitely blood. ”Fucking hell.”

He stumbled out of the bed, careful to avoid stepping in it, and made it into his bathing chamber before he retched again.

When it finally subsided, he splashed water on his face. The nausea receded, but the dizziness remained. And then a new sensation began to build.

Itching. His torso lit up like fire ants had colonized his rib cage. He looked down at it. Blinked. Rubbed his eyes a few times.

Yes, that was happening.

”Nick, the healer is here.” Damon knocked on the door twice.

Nicholas crossed the bathing chamber and opened it.

Damon’s eyes went wide. ”What the...”

”Get me Brennan,” Nicholas replied. ”The soonest he can physically get here. No probation, hire him. Whatever it takes.”

✦✦✦

Across the world, it was still early evening in Drakencrest and Ryker Stormvale had been running a war summit and a kingdom for the better part of eight hours.

He knocked twice on the chamber door.

Blair ripped it open with a murderous scowl. ”WHAT—”

The scowl melted into surprise, then irritation. ”Oh. It’s you.”

”Nice to see you too, sunshine,” Ryker said, stepping inside.

Maddox was sitting shirtless in a chair, facing away from the door, ribs partially wrapped. Aldric was applying a healing salve across gashes on his back.

Guinevere was in the adjacent chair in a bra. His eyes found her before his brain gave permission. They always did.

Ryker’s mouth went dry. He forced his eyes to the floor.

That was significantly worse than the mindlink said.

Sterling stood behind her chair, arms crossed like the world’s most pissed off guard dog.

Ryker caught his eye, the look he gave was: You look like you need a drink. Or a vacation. Or therapy. Mostly therapy.

Sterling’s face said, You have no idea.

”Well,” Ryker commented, flipping his coin once, ”I leave for four hours and you two decide to start a blood cult. I’m hurt I wasn’t invited.”

The joke landed on dead air. Ryker caught the temperature of the room and adjusted.

”I handled everything,” he continued. ”War council ran smooth. Lord Raventhorn made a lot of noise about border patrols and said nothing useful, but his vote aligned with ours, so we let him talk.”

He moved further into the room, flipping the coin between his fingers.

”The Elders are also announcing your marriage. Officially tomorrow.” He held up confetti hands. ”Yay.”

The room shifted. Sterling’s eyes moved to Guinevere. Kael’s did the same.

Her face gave away nothing. Maddox frowned, studying her like she was a book written in a language he couldn’t read.

Ryker didn’t react to her lack of emotion, but it didn’t sit right.

”That means you passed your riding demonstration,” he added.

Every person in the room leaned in simultaneously for her response. She didn’t give one.

”War council reconvenes tonight,” Ryker continued, eyes not leaving her. ”They’re requesting you specifically, Commander. Kael and Sterling too. Lord Voss is pushing for a full continental defense strategy and he wants the crown’s position before anyone else stakes a claim.”

Maddox’s jaw worked. His eyes went to Guinevere, then back to Ryker.

”I’ll be there.”

”You’re going to need a shirt first.” Ryker’s gaze dropped to the gashes on Maddox’s torso. ”What the hell happened?”

The question really was asking, who the hell touched her.

Kael pushed off the wall. ”Short version? She found a secret passage, outran two full-grown dragons through hell’s ass into a treasure room, threw her husband and myself fifteen feet, found a poltergeist that made sex noises in the dark while the room collapsed, and she’s now rejecting dark magic through her skin and gave Maddox demon-cooties too.”

Guinevere’s hand flew to her mouth, eyes wide.

”Stop being dramatic, Ashenvale,” Sterling said flatly. ”You’re scaring her.”

”I’m not being dramatic. That was the watered down version,” Kael replied, then turned his head towards her. The look on her face took the wind out of his sails. ”Do you not remember any of that, Gwen?”

”Obviously not,” Maddox snapped. His back looked like a road map drawn by a sadist. ”It wasn’t that bad, baby.”

He pulled her into his lap, kissed the side of her head, then shot Kael a glare of a thousand suns.

Kael blinked. The man genuinely looked confused, like he was running the last sixty seconds through his head and coming up empty.

Ryker caught Maddox’s eye.

The look between them was brief and said one thing: I’m going to need the long version.