|chapter 17|

|chapter 17|
|Talitha|

“You—what are you doing here?” My voice is sharper than I intend, but my pulse is already thrumming in panic. Erna’s wide eyes flick from me to the towering shadow in the center of the chamber.

Demetrius does not answer, he only stares. Slowly and deliberately, his gaze travels over me, from my bare shoulders to the damp hem brushing my calves. I see his body tighten, the sinews of his neck straining as his chest rises in a heavy breath.

Then the amber of his eyes deepen, their glow like molten gold. His wolf stirs within him, restless and ravenous. I see it in the slight parting of his lips, the tremor in his jaw, and the flare of his nostrils as the scent of bathwater and skin reaches him.

I step back instinctively as fear, or something dangerously like it, grips me.

“Stop,” I whisper. “Stay where you are.”

But he does not move until his hands clench into fists at his sides, his breaths coming slower now as he fights it—fights himself. He drags his gaze away, turning his back with a low, controlled exhale. The heat in the room falters but does not fade.

When he finally speaks, his voice is like roughened steel. “I came twice before,” he says, still facing away. “You both slept deeply, and I left you be. I thought the journey had wearied you.”

He glances over his shoulder. “Are you well-rested now?”

I do not answer. My thoughts are still snagged on his first admission. He came earlier. The idea burns through me. Had he entered while we slept? Watched us without my knowing?

My stomach knots. “Did you barge into this room while we were sleeping,” I demand, “just as you have now?”

He turns fully then, his brow furrowing. “I am the Alpha King,” he replies, voice edged with authority. “This is my abode. Need I knock before entering a chamber that is mine?”

“Surely you must,” I snap, anger trembling through the fear. “For all you know, I could have been indecent in here.”

A slow, dangerous smile tugs at his mouth as his gaze sweeps over me once more. “Just as you are now, you mean?”

Heat floods my face. I fold my arms tightly across my chest, wishing the ground would swallow me whole. “You are insufferable,” I mutter, and his smile fades at the remark.

“Why are you here?” I ask again, the words shaky but sharp.

His expression hardens, the playful veneer gone. “To ensure you are not rebelling against me,” he says evenly. “I will not have you hiding yourself away as though imprisoned. That is not why I brought you here.”

“Then why did you?” The question spills out before I can stop it.

His eyes fix on mine, glowing faintly gold once more. “To be by my side,” he says, each word deliberate. “As my mate, and the Luna Queen to our people.”

I almost laugh, but the sound curdles into disbelief. “Your people,” I hiss. “Not mine. You may have dragged me from my home, but you will never have my heart, nor my loyalty. I will never accept you as my mate.”

Something dark flashes in his gaze and the only warning I get is the air crackling before his control snaps.

In a single stride, he closes the distance between us, his hand seizing my upper arm in a grip that makes me flinch. “Careful, Talitha,” he growls, low and dangerous. “I have been lenient with you, but do not mistake my mercy for weakness. I will not tolerate insolence, not even from my own mate.”

His nearness burns me as his breath brushes my cheek. I can feel the tremor in his hand where fury clashes with restraint but I refuse to look away or back down. “You call this leniency?” I whisper. “You claim I am no prisoner, but is this freedom?”

His grip tightens, just enough to make me gasp. “You would do well to remember,” he says, his voice morphed into a rumble now, “that your loved ones still breathe under my protection, Talitha. Under my command."

His eyes dart to Erna meaningfully. "They stay safe only by my grace. But I would not hesitate to change that, should I deem it fit.”

Behind me, Erna whimpers and the sound pierces through the storm between us, causing my heart to twist painfully.

“Don’t you dare,” I breathe, wedging myself further between him and my child despite his hold. “She is but a child. Leave her out of this.”

Her small hands clutch at my gown. “Mama?” she whispers, trembling. The sound of her voice finally breaks through his anger. Demetrius curses under his breath and releases me, stepping back as though burned. The golden light in his eyes flickers and fades. Silence falls in the room, heavy and suffocating.

I cradle Erna against me, my heart pounding so loudly it drowns the world. For a long while, he says nothing, only watches me with something unreadable in his expression. Then his voice returns, quieter but no softer.

“Some seamstresses will arrive before dusk,” he says at last. “They will take your measurements and your daughter’s as well. You will both have new garments made to suit your station.”

My station? The words taste bitter.

He continues, his tone clipped and controlled once more. “From this day onward, you will take breakfast and dinner in my presence. Attendance is not optional. You will be expected in the royal dining hall this evening.”

I say nothing in response, my throat too tight to trust my voice. Erna’s small fingers twist in the folds of my shawl.
Demetrius' eyes narrow slightly. “Did you hear me, Talitha?”

“Yes,” I force out, barely above a whisper. “Your Majesty.” The title drips with venom, though my voice withers with exhaustion.

For a heartbeat, his jaw tightens. Then he exhales through his nose, turning toward the door. I think he means to leave, but he pauses, glancing over his shoulder.

When he speaks again, his voice is low, almost gentle, if not for the edge beneath. “You will be my Luna Queen,” he says. “Whether by will or by command. I suggest you begin to make peace with that truth.”

He does not wait for my reply. The door closes behind him with a quiet thud that feels far louder than it is.
The silence that follows presses heavy against my chest. I sink slowly onto the nearest seat, every ounce of defiance draining out of me until I am nothing but hollow bone and trembling breath.

Erna climbs onto my lap without a word, tucking her face against my neck. Her small body is warm, a fragile weight anchoring me to the moment. I wrap my arms around her, holding on as if I might vanish otherwise. Her voice is small when it comes. “Mama… is the King angry?”

My throat tightens.

“Yes,” I whisper, because I cannot lie to her. “But not with you, my heart. Never with you.”

She nods, her curls brushing my chin, and for a while we simply sit there—mother and child in a golden cage, breathing through the quiet.

The tears come without warning. Silent yet relentlessly slipping down my cheeks before I can stop them. I bow my head and press my lips to her hair.

Oh, Moon above, I think bitterly. How many times must I pay for a destiny I never sought?