Chapter 12 CHAPTER 12
Dmitri's POV
I stared at her.
This trembling, broken thing kneeling at the base of my throne.
What the hell just happened?
The question echoed through my mind, relentless and unanswered.
I'd nearly killed Kira. Would have killed her, if something—some last thread of restraint—hadn't held me back. My claws had been at her throat, ready to tear, ready to end her for what she'd done to this girl.
This… girl that hadn't even awoken her wolf.
That wasn't normal.
I wasn't normal, but even for me, that reaction had been excessive.
Kira had stood by me through the worst years of my existence. After the Great Disaster. After I'd lost my mate and children to those bastards who'd burned them alive while I was away defending the northern borders. She'd been there when I'd gone feral, when my Lycan had taken over completely and I'd become more beast than king.
She had loved me—loved me to a fault, with an obsession that bordered on madness.
In the beginning, before the flames took everything from me, she had watched me from the shadows of court, her devotion silent but consuming. When my true mate died, that love twisted into something fiercer, more desperate. She convinced herself that if she endured enough, sacrificed enough, she could fill the void my mate had left. That she could become indispensable.
So she offered her body as an outlet for my rage. Let me use her, hurt her, fuck her until the beast was sated enough to retreat.
I took what she gave, because in those moments I was barely capable of thought, barely capable of anything beyond the red haze of grief and fury.
It hadn't been love on my part—hadn't even been affection. Just survival. Hers, because she believed proximity would one day turn into possession. Mine, because her willingness kept me from slaughtering half the palace.
I gave her nothing in return. No tenderness, no acknowledgment, no promise.
Ever since the death of my mate, I had paid her no heed beyond the moments I needed release.
She was a vessel, nothing more—a warm body to quiet the monster long enough for me to reclaim the throne each dawn.
Eventually, even that hadn't been enough.
My Lycan had grown bored with her predictability, her unwavering submission, and moved on to other females.
Any female unfortunate enough to catch his attention during those dark years. Kira had watched it happen, had seen me take others with the same brutal detachment I’d once shown her, and still she stayed. Still she waited. Still she loved.
And I let her.
I'd killed so many. Torn them apart in my madness. Their screams still echoed in my nightmares.
Kira knew all of that. Had witnessed it. Had somehow survived it.
And I'd nearly killed her today.
For this girl.
Why?
Thea shifted under my gaze, and I realized I'd been staring at her in silence for too long. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, her head bowed, her entire body radiating fear.
But she'd told the truth anyway.
Even knowing what I was. Even knowing what I could do to her.
That took something. Courage, maybe. Or desperation.
Either way, it stirred something in me I thought had died years ago.
Interest.
My Lycan stirred too, pressing against my consciousness in a way he hadn't in months. Not aggressively. Not violently.
Just... aware.
Of her. Of her scent. Of the way her pulse fluttered in her throat.
Mine, he rumbled.
I shoved him back down violently. No. She was just a slave. Breakable. Nothing.
But even as I thought it, I knew it was a lie.
She wasn't nothing.
She was something. Something I didn't understand yet.
And that made her dangerous.
A throat cleared beside me.
I tore my gaze away from Thea to find Kastiel watching me with barely concealed shock. My Beta. One of the few people left alive who remembered me before the madness.
"Your Majesty," he said carefully, his tone neutral but his eyes sharp. "What would you have us do with the girl?"
Right. I needed to decide her fate.
Send her back to the servants' quarters? Let her disappear into the background where I'd never have to think about her again?
That would be the smart choice. The safe choice.
But my Lycan snarled at the thought, and before I could stop myself, the words were coming out.
"She'll be my private maid."
Silence.
Complete, absolute silence in the throne room.
Kastiel’s eyes widened. "Your Majesty?"
"You heard me." I kept my voice cold, emotionless. "Assign her to my quarters. She'll attend to my personal needs. No one else touches her. No one else gives her orders. Is that clear?"
"But—" Kastiel stopped himself, but I could see the questions burning in his eyes.
I hadn't taken a private maid in a century. Not since before the Disaster. Not since my mate.
Everyone knew that. Everyone had learned not to even suggest it.
And now I was assigning one out of nowhere?
"Is there a problem, Beta?" I asked quietly.
Kastiel knew that tone. Knew what it meant.
"No, Your Majesty." He bowed his head quickly. "I'll make the arrangements immediately."
"Good." I looked back at Thea, who was staring up at me with wide, disbelieving eyes.
She looked terrified.
She should be.
"You'll move to the servants' wing adjacent to the King's quarters tonight," I told her. "You'll be responsible for my chambers, my meals, my clothing. You'll be available whenever I require you. Do you understand?"
She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
"I asked you a question." My voice hardened.
"I—" She swallowed hard. "Yes, Your Majesty. I understand."
"Good. Kastiel will show you to your new quarters." I leaned back in my throne, dismissing her with a wave. "You're dismissed."
She scrambled to her feet, nearly tripping in her haste to bow before backing away from the throne.
Kastiel gestured for her to follow him, and they disappeared through the side door.
The moment they were gone, I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath.
What the hell am I doing?
I didn't know.
I didn't understand this pull I felt toward her. This overwhelming urge to keep her close. To protect her.
It made no sense.
She was wolfless. Fragile. Insignificant in the grand scheme of things.
And yet.
Mine, my Lycan rumbled again, more insistent this time.
"She's not ours," I said aloud to the empty room. "She can't be."
But the words felt hollow even as I said them.
Because deep down, in some primal part of me I couldn't control or understand, I knew the truth.
Something about Thea was different.
Silence pressed in around me the moment the door closed.
Just me and the shadows and the thing that lived inside my head.
I tried to focus on breathing. On the cool stone beneath my boots. On anything other than—
Kill.
The voice slithered through my mind like poison.
Tear. Rend. Destroy.
My fingers dug into the armrests of the throne, claws already extending, puncturing the ancient wood.
Not now. Not fucking now.
Blood. Need blood. Need to hunt. Need to—
"Shut up," I growled aloud.
But the voice never listened. It never did.
My Lycan rose inside me like a tidal wave, crashing against the walls of my control. He'd been quiet for a while now he was awake. Fully awake. Spurred on by the madness and bloodlust that clouded our sanity.
Let me out, he snarled. Let me hunt. Let me kill.
"No." The word came through gritted teeth.
My fangs were already elongating, pushing past my lips. I could feel my bones starting to shift, my spine arching, my muscles rippling under my skin.
The madness was coming. That familiar descent into chaos that had defined the last century of my existence.
I should call for Kastiel. Should have him summon the guards. They knew the protocol—get me to the reinforced cell deep beneath the palace before I fully shifted. Lock me in. Let the beast rage until he exhausted himself.
How many times had I woken up in that cell covered in blood? How many corpses had I left in my wake during the episodes when they hadn't gotten me contained in time?
Too many. Far too many.
Call him, some rational part of my mind urged. Call Kastiel before it's too late.
But I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. The transformation was pulling at me too hard, the Lycan's howl deafening inside my skull.
MINE, he roared suddenly, the word echoing with such force it made my head pound. OURS. MATE. PROTECT.
What?
That... that wasn't normal. Not for the feral episodes.
Usually, it was just mindless rage. An overwhelming urge to destroy everything in my path. But this—
MATE, the Lycan insisted. Found her. Keep her. Protect her. OURS.
An image flashed through my mind. Thea. Kneeling. Trembling. Those wide, terrified eyes looking up at me.
Mine.
The possessiveness that surged through me should have been alarming. Should have made the madness worse.
But instead...
Instead, I felt the beast beginning to settle.
The howling in my head quieted. Not completely—never completely—but enough. Enough that I could think again. Could breathe.
My claws retracted slowly, painfully. My fangs receded. The pressure in my spine eased.
What the hell?
I sat there in the throne, breathing hard, my entire body shaking with the effort of holding myself together.
The madness was still there. It was always there, lurking just beneath the surface. But for the first time in longer than I could remember, it had retreated without blood being spilled. Without me being locked in a cell until I came back to myself.
Because of her, the Lycan rumbled, satisfied now. Calm. Our mate calms us.
"She's not our mate," I said aloud, my voice hoarse. "She can't be."
How on earth was this possible? The curse of the moon goddess? Has it been lifted? What sort of….
The door to the throne room opened.
I tensed, my body coiling instinctively, but it was just Kastiel. My Beta stepped inside, his expression carefully neutral though I could see the concern in his eyes. He was assessing me. Checking for signs of an episode.
"Your Majesty." He approached cautiously, the way everyone did when they thought I might snap. "I've given instructions to the household staff. The girl—Thea—has been assigned quarters in the servants' wing adjacent to your chambers as ordered."
I nodded, not trusting my voice yet.
"The head maid, Olena, is briefing her on her duties now." Kastiel paused. "She seemed... overwhelmed."
"She'll adjust." The words came out rougher than intended.
Kastiel was quiet for a moment, watching me. "Are you alright, Your Majesty?"
"Fine."
"Your claws were extended when I entered."
Damn. He'd noticed.
"I'm fine," I repeated, more forcefully this time.
But Kastiel had been my Beta for over a century. He knew me too well. "Should I summon the guards? Prepare the containment cell?"
"No." The word came out sharper than I intended. "It's passed."
His eyebrows rose slightly. "Passed? Your Majesty, with respect, the episodes don't just... pass. Not without—"
"This one did." I stood from the throne, needing to move. Needing to do something other than sit there while my Beta looked at me like I was a bomb about to explode. "I'm fine, Kastiel. Drop it."
He bowed his head, but I could see the questions burning in his eyes. "As you wish."
I walked to the window overlooking the courtyard, my hands clasped behind my back to hide the faint tremor still running through them.
The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of blood and fire.
Appropriate.
"The girl," I said without turning around. "I want a guard posted outside her quarters. Discreet. She's not to be disturbed by anyone except on my direct orders."
"Your Majesty?" Kastiel's confusion was evident. "Is that... necessary?"
"Are you questioning me, Beta?"
"No, Your Majesty. I merely—"
"Then do it." I turned to face him, and whatever he saw in my expression made him step back slightly. "No one touches her. No one speaks to her unless absolutely necessary. If I find out someone has harmed her—physically or otherwise—I will personally remove their spine through their throat. Is that clear?"
Kastiel's eyes widened. "Crystal clear, Your Majesty."
"Good. Now leave me."
He bowed deeply and backed toward the door. "Of course. If you need anything—
"I won't. Leave."
Kastiel bowed and turned toward the door.
"Wait."
The word came out before I could stop it.
My Beta paused, hand on the door handle, and looked back at me with barely concealed surprise. I never called him back. Never showed anything that could be construed as uncertainty or the need for counsel.
But this... this was different.
I ran a hand through my hair, a gesture of frustration I rarely allowed myself. "There's something about her."
Kastiel remained silent, waiting. Smart man.
"The girl—Thea." I turned back to the window, unable to look at him while I said this. "When I was about to shift, when the madness was coming... she calmed it. Just the thought of her. My Lycan settled."
I heard Kastiel's sharp intake of breath. "Your Majesty, that's—"
"Impossible. I know." I gripped the windowsill hard enough that the stone cracked beneath my fingers. "But it happened. And I need to understand why."
Because if I didn't understand it, I couldn't control it. And if I couldn't control it, I was dangerous. More dangerous than usual.
"What would you have me do?" Kastiel asked carefully.
"Send for Meira." I finally turned to face him. "Have her brought here, to me. Discreetly. I want her examined—I need to know if there's something... different about her. Something that would explain this."
I paused, the weight of my own instability pressing heavier than the crown I rarely wore. "And bring the resident witch as well. Elowen, isn't it? Have her come too. I want her to examine me—my feral state, the madness that nearly took hold. See if she can find any trace of... whatever this connection is. Between the girl and me."
Kastiel's eyes widened fractionally, the only sign of his surprise. He bowed his head. "As you command, Your Majesty. I will arrange for both to be brought here immediately and separately, to maintain discretion."
"Good." I moved away from the window, forcing my voice to remain steady. "And Kastiel? Not a word of this to anyone. If the court finds out I'm showing interest in a wolfless servant girl—or worse, that I'm submitting to examination over her—there will be questions I'm not prepared to answer. Rumors I cannot afford."
"Of course, Your Majesty. Your secrets are always safe with me.”
I knew that. Kastiel had kept far darker secrets than this over the years.
"Was there something else?" I asked when he didn't immediately leave.
"Yes, actually." Kastiel pulled a scroll from his coat. "I received word this morning. The Council of Kings is convening in three weeks' time. King Raziel is hosting at his palace in the Northern Reaches."
I suppressed a groan. The Council. Just what I needed.
"All four kings?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.
"Yes, Your Majesty. Yourself, King Raziel of the North, King Theron of the East, and King Malachi of the South."
The four Lycan Kings. The last of our kind who held any real power.
It was almost laughable when you thought about it. Lycans—the most powerful species in existence, capable of tearing through vampires like tissue paper, strong enough to completely dominate any territory if we wanted—and there were so few of us left that we could barely populate four territories.
The Great War had seen to that—or rather, a deadly confluence of catastrophes had. Centuries of brutal infighting among our kind, the Great War that scarred our history with fratricidal bloodshed over borders and thrones, had thinned our numbers mercilessly. But it was not war alone that brought us to the brink.
The Moon Goddess’s curse, levied in wrath after our ancestors’ hubris and betrayal, had struck deepest: fertility withered, litters grew rare, and the sacred bond of fated mates—once the heartbeat of Lycan strength—became a cruel rarity. Conception grew perilous, pregnancies fragile and often lost, and even when pups survived birth, far too few carried the pure, potent bloodline needed to awaken a true Lycan beast. Finding one’s destined mate, the only union all but guaranteed to produce powerful heirs, had turned into a desperate, near-impossible hope.
War, arrogance, and divine retribution had together reduced a once-dominant race to scattered remnants. Now, we were a dying breed. Powerful, yes. Feared, absolutely. But our numbers were embarrassingly low compared to vampires, witches, even the common werewolves we ruled over.
The werewolves outnumbered us a hundred to one. Maybe more. Yet they were weaker, smaller, slaves to the full moon’s pull, unable to master their shifts. They needed us—needed our strength, our control, our protection—even as many resented the crown we wore.
And so the four of us maintained an uneasy alliance. Four kings, four territories, one species slowly fading into legend. All of it—every drop of blood spilled, every prayer unanswered—had led inexorably to this precarious moment.
"The agenda?" I asked.
"Border disputes between East and South. The usual vampire incursions in the North. And—" Kastiel hesitated. "Succession concerns."
My jaw clenched. "Ah. So they want to discuss the fact that I'm the strongest of the four and yet have no heir."
"It will likely come up, yes."
Of course it would. It always did.
The other kings worried about what would happen when I died. Who would take the Central Territories? Who would maintain the balance of power?
They didn't understand that I wasn't planning on dying. That I would outlive them all through sheer spite if nothing else.
"Tell Raziel's messenger I'll attend," I said. "But make it clear I won't be discussing my personal affairs with the Council. If they want to waste time on that topic, they can do it without me in the room."
"I'll convey your message... diplomatically," Kastiel said with the faintest hint of amusement.
"You do that." I waved him off. "Now go. Send for Meira. And make sure that guard is posted outside Thea's quarters before nightfall."
"It will be done, Your Majesty."
This time, when he bowed and turned to leave, I didn't call him back.
The door closed, and I was alone again.