The air in the tower was thick with the scent of sex and ozone.
Girard had me pinned against the stone basin, my silk robe a ruin around my ankles. His skin was burning, a fever that seemed to be consuming him from the inside out. I could feel the beast beneath the surface-the way his muscles twitched, the way his heartbeat was far too fast for a human.
"The bond isn't finished," he groaned against my neck, his voice a layered rasp of man and wolf. "The marriage was just a legal formality. The pack needs to see the Rite. I need to feel the Rite."
"What rite?" I gasped, my fingers digging into the hard muscles of his back.
He pulled back, looking at me with eyes that were no longer human. He reached for a small, silver blade on a nearby pedestal.
"The Lien de Sang," he whispered. "The Blood Link. It will make us one, Arielle. You will feel what I feel. You will see what I see. You will never be alone again."
He took my hand and, before I could protest, made a small, quick nick across my palm. He did the same to his own.
He pressed our palms together.
The world disappeared.
It was like being struck by a bolt of white-hot lightning. I screamed, but the sound was swallowed by the roar in my mind. Suddenly, I wasn't in the tower anymore. I was in a forest of shadows. I could hear the heartbeat of every living thing for miles. I could smell the salt of the ocean, the pine of the woods, and the deep, earthy musk of the pack.
And I could feel Girard.
His rage. His loneliness. His overwhelming, soul-shredding desire for me. It was a tidal wave that threatened to drown me. I felt the beast inside him-a massive, black wolf with eyes like stars-reaching out for me, claiming me.
Mine, the voice echoed in my soul. Forever mine.
I snapped back to reality, gasping for air. I was slumped in Girard's arms, my body shaking with the aftershocks of the connection. The wound on my palm was already gone, leaving only a faint, silver scar.
Girard looked at me, his eyes finally fading back to amber, though they were filled with a new, terrifying clarity. He looked at me not as a prisoner, but as a part of himself.
"It's done," he whispered, his lips ghosting over my forehead. "You are the Luna now. My blood flows in yours."
He picked me up, carrying me back toward the main house, but I felt different. The cage didn't feel so small anymore. The world felt larger, sharper, and far more dangerous.
But as we reached the master suite, a high, haunting howl echoed from the cliffs.
It wasn't a howl of celebration. It was a howl of war.
"The Monets," Girard hissed, his jaw tightening. "They've come to take back what they think is theirs."
I looked at the man who was now a part of my soul and realized the truth: my father wasn't just coming for a rescue.
He was coming to kill the monster I had just become a part of.
And for the first time in my life, I wanted the monster to win.
