Chapter 97 His Claim
Kira’s POV
He pulled me closer, guiding me toward the open helicopter door. “How are you feeling this morning, princess?” he asked, voice raised over the noise, all gentle concern.
I ignored him. Full cold-shoulder mode activated.
He didn’t push. Just helped me in, buckled my seatbelt for me like I was fragile, handed me noise-canceling headphones with a soft smile. Then he passed me a thermos from a side compartment. “Hot chocolate. Extra marshmallows. The way I was told that you like it.”
I stared at it, but didn't take it.
He set it in the cupholder anyway, then pulled a soft blanket from overhead and draped it over my lap.
He kept going. One sweet thing after another. My icy resolve started cracking like thin ice. Stupid weak body.
He settled beside me, the helicopter lifting off with a lurch. Once we were airborne, he leaned in close, voice low through the headphones.
“You’re already mine, Kira. In every way that matters. All that’s left is exchanging marks. And I promise you, mate, I will be marking you soon.”
I froze.
Marking?
The word hit like ice down my spine. Liana’s warning rang loud in my head…sharp, panicked…like an automatic reminder. She’d told me never to let him mark me. Never.
That it wouldn’t just bind me to him.
It would kill me.
“The only thing holding me back,” he continued quietly, his voice roughing at the edges as if the words hurt on the way out. His gaze never left mine.
“It’s the stupid old law.” He paused as shame flickered across his face. “If I mark you now… you could die. Because I already have a first child…with another woman.”
He exhaled like it hurt him. “But I’m looking for a way around it. When I find it…and I will…I’m going to chain you to me for eternity. And I won’t stop at one mark. I won’t stop at your neck. I’ll decorate every inch of you with my claim, princess.”
A violent shiver raced down my spine, heat pooling low in my belly despite every alarm bell screaming.
My brain short-circuited into hilarious panic mode: Decorate? DECORATE? What is this, a werewolf tattoo parlor? “Property of King Adrian” stamped on my ass in bite-mark cursive? Sir, this is not a body art convention!
But then the darker thought hit, cutting the humor dead.
He knew. He knew marking me could kill me…and he was actively searching for a way to make it safe.
He wanted to save me? To save Abby?
Was Liana wrong? Had she lied about the danger, about his intentions? Or was this just another layer of his game…sweet words to lower my guard so he could finish what he started without resistance?
I stared out the window at the kingdom shrinking below us, heart pounding harder than the rotor blades.
This trip wasn't an escape anymore. It was becoming more of a tightrope and as much as I want to act tough, I’m scared out of my mind!
The helicopter hummed around us, the world far below nothing but scattered lights in the bright sky.
Adrian’s hand was still wrapped around mine, warm and unyielding, his thumb stroking my skin in slow, deliberate circles that felt like brands. Every touch lit me up from the inside, an unexplainable feeling thrumming like a live wire between us.
He leaned in again, lips brushing the shell of my ear as he whispered, voice low and rough with possession. “You’re mine, Kira. Every breath you take, every beat of your heart..:it’s all for me now.”
I shivered, hating how my body arched toward him without permission.
“You can growl all you want, Wolfie. I don’t belong to you. Sooner or later, you will realize it,” I snapped at him.
His grip tightened, fingers sliding up to lace through mine completely. “You are my property, Kira. Every single inch of you. And I’d burn the world down before I let anyone take you from me. You feel that pull? That ache? It’s because you were made for me. Only me.”
A soft gasp escaped my lips as his free hand drifted to my thigh, palm settling heavy and hot through the cashmere. “I’m going to mark you so deep, so thoroughly, no one will ever doubt who you belong to. Not even you.”
The words sank into me like hooks, possessive and filthy and toe-curling. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the heat flooding my core, the way my breath came shorter.
I laughed. A sharp, breathless sound that came out a second too fast…like my body tried to betray me and I tackled it mid-crime.
“Wow,” I said, blinking up at him. “That was… a lot, your majesty. Truly. Congratulations. You’ve officially hit "Most Unhinged Possessive Speech of the Year.”
My pulse was doing illegal things. My skin was buzzing where his hand rested. I ignored it with the dedication of a professional.
I tugged my fingers against his grip, not enough to escape…just enough to be annoying. “First of all, let me make it very clear, since you didn’t understand me the first time. I’m not your property. I’m not a house. I’m not land. I do not come with a deed.”
Then I tilted my head, squinting at him like I was genuinely considering his words. “Second…if you so much as think about biting or marking me, I swear to God I will march straight to the nearest clinic and ask for a tetanus shot.”
His hand on my thigh burned like a brand, and I absolutely did not react to that. Nope. Not at all.
“And third,” I added sweetly before you could interrupt me, smiling up at him with all my teeth, “if you’re planning to ‘burn the world down,’ could you maybe do it somewhere far away from me? Preferably after you leave me the fuck alone.”
Silence stretched for half a second.
I almost congratulated myself.
‘Well done, Kira. Clear boundaries. Strong delivery. No visible emotional casualties.’
Then he laughed.
A low, rich sound that vibrated straight through me, like he’d just been amused…not challenged. His grip didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened, fingers warm and unyielding around mine.
“Tetanus?” he repeated softly, eyes dark with something dangerous. “That’s your defense?”
His thumb brushed my skin once. Slowly…like he was claiming me.
“You can fight this all you want, Kira,” he murmured, leaning in close enough that his breath ghosted my ear. “You can joke, threaten, deny it until you’re blue in the face.”
The helicopter jolted slightly as it shifted course.
“But when the time comes,” he continued, voice dropping to a promise that curled cold and hot at the same time, “you won’t be thinking about vaccines.”
I swallowed, my pulse roaring in my ears. What then would I be thinking about? Exorcism?!
“Because by then,” he finished quietly, tightening his hold just enough to steal my breath, “you won’t be able to think at all.”