Chapter 8: Public Frenzy

POV: Nyra

The test is deliberate.

I see it in the noble Alpha's eyes before it happens. The cruel anticipation. The certainty that what comes next will be entertaining.

He reaches into his coat and pulls out a small glass vial filled with dark liquid.

"What is that?" the Queen Regent asks sharply.

The noble's smirk widens.

"Just a little something to make the demonstration more authentic, Your Majesty," he says. "After all, if we're going to test the heir's control, we should make sure the test is rigorous."

Before anyone can stop him, he hurls the vial at the marble floor between Caelum and me.

It shatters.

The sound is sharp and final, like breaking bone.

Liquid spreads across white marble, evaporating instantly into thick vapor that rises like smoke. The smell hits me first, acrid and overwhelming, burning my nose and throat.

Pheromones.

Concentrated. Weaponized.

A scent-bomb designed specifically to trigger Alpha aggression.

The effect on Caelum is immediate.

He jerks like he's been stabbed, his whole body convulsing. A guttural sound tears from his throat, something between a growl and a scream.

His control fractures.

I can see it happen. See the exact moment the careful restraint he was holding onto shatters like glass.

His eyes flare pure gold, brighter than I've ever seen them. His shoulders broaden as the shift starts to take him. Claws extend from his fingertips, dark and wickedly sharp.

The court gasps collectively, nobles scrambling backward to put distance between themselves and the heir who's losing himself to rage.

But not far enough to leave. They want to watch. Want to see what happens when a monster is unleashed in their midst.

"Fascinating," someone murmurs.

"Will he attack her?" another asks, voice hushed with anticipation.

The Queen Regent's face has gone pale, but she doesn't move. Doesn't call for guards. She's watching too, waiting to see how this plays out.

Someone shoves me from behind.

Hard.

I stumble forward, my bare feet slipping on smooth marble. I barely catch myself before I fall, ending up on my hands and knees directly in front of Caelum.

Like bait.

That's what I am in this moment. Bait thrown in front of a predator to see if he'll strike.

Caelum's breathing is ragged, each breath rattling in his chest like something breaking apart. His claws slice into the marble floor, gouging deep grooves into stone as he fights against the surge of violence the scent-bomb triggered.

His muscles lock and release in waves, his body at war with itself.

The pheromones in the air are thick enough that even I can feel them, pressing against my senses like invisible hands. I can't imagine what they're doing to Caelum, whose every instinct is being weaponized against him.

He's fighting so hard.

I can see it in every trembling muscle, every locked joint. He's fighting the urge to tear, to rend, to destroy everything in reach.

Fighting the urge to hurt me.

The court watches in breathless silence.

I need to do something. Need to help him before the rage wins completely and he does something he can never take back.

Before they use this moment to condemn him even further.

I don't have the blade.

They took it when they stripped me for inspection. But I don't need a blade.

I lift my arm and bite down hard on the flesh of my forearm, just below where the bandages end.

The pain is sharp and immediate. My teeth break skin, blood welling up hot and copper-tasting.

I pull my arm away from my mouth and hold it out, letting blood run down my skin in dark rivulets.

Blood hits the open air.

The scent of it cuts through the pheromone fog like a knife through smoke.

Caelum freezes.

His whole body goes absolutely still, locked in place like a statue. Only his eyes move, tracking the blood running down my arm with laser focus.

The feral gold dims slightly.

The court murmurs, confused by the sudden stillness.

"What's happening?"

"Is he calming?"

"Impossible. The scent-bomb should keep him aggressive for at least an hour."

But Caelum isn't attacking. Isn't moving at all except for the slight rise and fall of his chest.

He's staring at my bleeding arm like it's the only thing in the world that exists.

I take a careful step closer.

"Caelum," I whisper, keeping my voice low and steady. "It's me. It's Nyra."

His eyes flick up to my face, recognition flickering behind the gold.

"Nyra," he rasps, my name coming out rough and broken.

I take another step, closing the distance between us. My arm is still extended, blood still flowing.

"That's right," I tell him. "I'm here. You're okay. You're in control."

"Control," he repeats, like he's trying to remember what the word means.

The nobles are whispering furiously now, but I block them out. All that matters is Caelum and keeping him from doing something that will give them an excuse to hurt him.

To hurt both of us.

I'm close enough now that I can see the way his pupils are blown wide, the way his breathing is still too fast, too shallow.

The scent-bomb is still working on him. Still pushing him toward violence.

But my blood is stronger.

"Here," I say softly, lifting my arm higher. "Take what you need."

Caelum's eyes lock onto the wound. I can see him fighting it, fighting the instinct to close his mouth around the bleeding flesh and drink.

Fighting what he thinks makes him weak.

"It's okay," I tell him. "It's just us. No one else matters."

Something in my words breaks through.

Caelum's hand comes up slowly, trembling, and wraps around my wrist. His grip is gentle despite the claws, careful not to hurt me even when everything in him is screaming for violence.

He pulls my arm closer.

His mouth closes over the bite wound.

The effect is immediate and complete.

The tension drains from his body like water. The rigid line of his shoulders softens. The claws retract slightly, becoming less lethal.

He drinks, and with each pull, more of the feral light fades from his eyes.

The court has gone silent, watching this display with expressions ranging from fascination to disgust.

I don't care.

Let them watch. Let them see exactly what my blood does to him. Let them understand that I'm the only thing standing between their precious heir and complete destruction.

Caelum's breathing evens out, becoming slower, deeper, controlled.

When he finally pulls back, his eyes are clear.

Human.

He's staring at me with an intensity that makes my breath catch. Blood stains his lips, dark against pale skin.

For a moment, we just look at each other.

Then his grip on my wrist tightens, just slightly. Not painful. Possessive.

His voice drops, becoming rough and raw and carrying clearly across the silent throne room.

"Mine."

The word echoes through the hall like thunder.

Every noble freezes.

The Queen Regent's eyes widen in shock.

Caelum doesn't seem to notice or care about the reaction his words cause. His eyes haven't left mine, burning with something that's equal parts fierce and desperate.

"Mine," he says again, louder this time.

His other hand comes up to cup my face, thumb brushing across my cheekbone with devastating gentleness.

"You're mine, Nyra. You always have been. And I will burn this entire palace to ash before I let them take you from me again."

The throne room erupts.

Nobles shouting. The Queen Regent calling for order. Guards moving forward with weapons drawn.

But none of it matters.

Because Caelum just claimed me.

Publicly.

In front of the entire court.

He called me his.

And that single word just changed everything.