Chapter 30

Chapter 30:

Lia’s POV

The Ironclad stronghold was a flicker of torchlight and restless quiet, the air heavy with the aftermath of battle. My moonbound army, Tara, Kael, Lara, Finn, Mira, Jace, rested in the cabins nearby, their silver eyes still glowing with the moonstone’s power, a beacon of our strength. The relic still hung around my neck. I’d proven myself as a leader, but not as family yet.

Inside the small cabin Edgar and I shared, the world shrank to just us. He stood by the fire, his broad shoulders tense, his dark eyes locked on me, glowing faintly with his wolf. Blood still stained his shirt from the battle, his side bandaged, I felt bad for him. Our argument from before, his need to protect me, my need to lead, had made us almost disconnected.

“You were unstoppable out there,” he said, his voice low, rough. “The moonstone, your army, you’re changing everything, Lia.”

I stepped closer. “I had to,” I said, my voice soft but fierce. “The clan hates me, Edgar. They see a traitor’s daughter. But with the moonbound, with this,” I touched the moonstone, “I’m building something they can’t ignore.”

His eyes darkened, as he closed the distance, his hand brushing my arm, sending a jolt through me. “They’ll see you,” he said, his voice a growl, low and urgent. “I see you. My mate. My equal.”

I said nothing. Just watched him. Edgar, for all his size and strength, stilled under my gaze like prey who knew exactly who had the power in the room.

“You’ve been holding back,” I said softly, stepping toward him. My voice wasn’t angry, it ached. “Afraid of hurting me. Afraid of going too far.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “You don’t understand. I feel like I’ll lose control and I’ll lose you.”

I stopped him with a hand to his chest, pressing firmly. “You won’t. I’m not here to be protected, Edgar. I’m here to take what’s mine.”

I felt him shudder. The bond between us hummed like a taut wire, straining under everything we hadn’t said, everything we’d been denying.

Edgar’s hand rested on my cheek, his eyes searching mine, a mix of love and worry. “You’re changing the clan, Lia,” he said, his voice soft but fierce. “But Connor’s not done. The moonstone makes you a target.”

I nodded, my fingers tracing the bandage on his side, the tribrid fire still simmering. “Let him come,” I said, my voice steady. “I have the moonstone, my army, and you. The clan can hate me, but I’ll fight for them, for us.”

His lips curved, a rare smile that made the bond flare. “Together,” he said, his voice a promise, pulling me close again.

I pushed him back, slowly, until the backs of his knees hit the bed. “Sit.”

He obeyed.

My hands moved to his shirt, unbuttoning it one by one, deliberately slow. “I’ve felt every beat of your restraint,” I murmured, leaning in, lips brushing his jaw. “But tonight, I want you to feel mine.”

I kissed him, not soft, but deep. My fingers tangled in his hair as I straddled him, pressing my hips against his until his breath paused.

“I’ve wanted this since the first time I heard your name in my soul,” I whispered against his lips. “I don’t want to be careful. I want to be real. I want you.”

He looked at me like I was everything he’d never believed he deserved. “You don’t know what you do to me, Lia.”

“Yes,” I said, gripping his jaw gently, holding his gaze. “I do. And I love it.”

I kissed down his throat, peeling his shirt from his shoulders, feeling every tremble, every effort he made to stay grounded. But I was grounding him now. My hands. My breath. My presence.

When I undressed him, there was no shame. And when I slid out of my own clothes, I let him look, wide-eyed and breathless, before guiding his hands to my body.

“I want you to feel how strong I am,” I said, voice rough with emotion. “How much I can take. How much I want this.”

I sank down onto him, slowly, completely. His hands gripped my thighs, but I moved. I controlled the rhythm. I looked down at him, memorizing every twitch of his face, every stifled groan.

Our bodies moved together, not in frantic desperation, but in something deeper, something sacred.

“You’re mine,” I whispered. “And I’m yours. No fear. No holding back.”

He nodded, eyes glassy. “I’ve never felt anything like this.”

“Because this isn’t just sex,” I said, brushing sweat-damp hair from his forehead. “This is us choosing each other. Again and again.”

He came beneath me, not from the physical release alone but from the way I held him. I loved him. Owned every piece of him like it was never in question.

When he collapsed back on the bed, breathless and shaking, I curled beside him, pulling him close.

“I promise to be good, if you give me a chance,” I whispered into his skin. “Deal?”

“Deal.”