Daciana

“I don’t understand.” I look between Lucian and Seth, bewildered. My heart pounds in my chest, and a sick feeling is spreading through my gut. “Have I done something wrong? I was very vigilant during my duties. If I’ve offended Astra in some way—”

“Daciana, no.” Lucian’s voice is firm but kind. He exchanges a glance with Seth, then focuses on me. “Astra is very happy with your service. She doesn’t want you to leave her side, either. But we need a liaison between the Kingdom and Kieran’s pack, and he seems to prefer you.”

The words make my chest tighten. Prefer me? What does that even mean? “Why?” The word comes out sounding smaller than it should. “Why does he prefer me?”

Lucian and Seth share another look, and neither of them answers my question.

Lucian’s jaw is set. “It’s a temporary assignment. And it’s final. You have no choice but to report to Kieran.”

He says it like I’m being sent into danger, like this is some kind of punishment. My stomach twists. Seth won’t even look at me, his expression hard as granite.

“When do I start?” I ask quietly.

“Now,” Seth says. “Report to his chambers immediately.”

“Alright.” My voice is hollow. I bow my head slightly—a gesture of respect I’ve performed a thousand times—and turn toward the door. My boots sound too loud against the stone floor as I leave Lucian’s study, each step echoing in the silence behind me.

The door closes with a soft click, and I’m alone in the corridor. I pause, pressing my palm against the cool stone wall, trying to steady my breathing. My mind spins with questions I can’t answer, confusion tangling with something that feels uncomfortably like anticipation.

Why is Kieran paying so much attention to me? It’s only been a week since the attack. Three days in the healer’s compound, four days recovering in my chambers, and this is my first day back on duty. Yet somehow, in that short time, everything has shifted. Like the food that has been arriving at my quarters. Rich broths that taste of comfort. Fresh bread still warm from the oven. And the fruits! Exotic things I’ve never seen before, bursting with flavor, each one perfectly ripe.

I can’t make sense of it.

Kieran has never approached me with any intention that would imply he’s interested in me. Not like that. Our interactions have been respectful, if not a little harsh from my end. I’ve been defensive, closed off, suspicious of his motives. And he has been…so very gentle toward me. His touch when he healed me. The quiet concern in his eyes when he visited. The way he speaks to me like I’m something fragile and precious instead of a soldier trained to kill.

But he’s an alpha. Powerful, ancient, with magic coursing through his veins. What could he possibly want with me?

I push off the wall and force my feet to move. The palace corridors stretch before me, familiar yet somehow foreign now. Guards nod as I pass. Servants step aside. They don’t know that everything has just changed, that I’m walking toward something I don’t understand and can’t control.

When I reach Kieran’s chambers, I pause outside his door, my hand raised to knock. My pulse races, and I hate that I’m nervous. I’m a warrior, damn it. I’ve faced enemies that would make most people piss themselves. Why does standing in front of this door make my palms sweat?

Because he saved your life, a voice whispers in my mind. Because every time he looks at you, you feel something move beneath your skin. Because you dream about his penetrating eyes and silver-threaded hair and hands that were so gentle when they touched your face.

I shove the thoughts away and knock.

“Come in,” his voice calls from inside.

I open the door and step into his chambers. They’re larger than mine, befitting an alpha of his status. The main room is elegant but not ostentatious: dark wood furniture, thick rugs, a fireplace that is unlit in the warmth of the afternoon. But I don’t see him anywhere.

“Alpha Kieran?” I call out, glancing around.

His reply comes from an attached room to the right. “I’ll be right there.”

I wait, hands clasped behind my back in a soldier’s stance. Seconds tick by. Then, I hear it: a loud crash, like something heavy hitting the floor.

My training kicks in. I don’t hesitate; I move. I burst through the doorway and stop dead.

Kieran is standing in his bathroom, completely naked, staring down at an iron basket that has clearly fallen over. Water drips from his hair, running in rivulets down his chest, to his stomach, following the lines of hard muscle.

My eyes take him in.

All of him.

Heat floods my face, spreading to my neck. I’ve seen naked men before; in training, in battle, it’s impossible not to. But this isn’t just any man. This is Kieran, and he’s…

“Oh gods,” I breathe, my voice strangled. I spin around so fast I almost trip over my own feet, pressing my hands to my cheeks. “I saw nothing! I saw absolutely nothing!”

His quiet laugh makes something flutter in my chest. “I told you to wait.”

“But I heard a crash!” My words come out too fast, too high. “I thought—I had to check—”

“I was bathing,” he says, amusement threading through his voice. It’s warm and rich and does nothing to tame the inferno raging through my body. “The basket fell. Nothing more dramatic than that.”

“Right. Of course. I’m sorry, I just—”

“Could you hand me my clothes?” he asks. “You’re standing right in front of them.”

I look down. Sure enough, there’s a neatly folded pile of clothing on a bench near the door. My hands shake as I grab them, squeezing my eyes shut so tightly that I see stars.

“Here,” I say, thrusting them in his general direction.

My knuckles meet warm, solid flesh instead of air.

His chest.

My eyes fly open in horror, and I find myself staring directly at him. He’s standing right in front of me, still gloriously, devastatingly unclothed, and he looks thoroughly amused.

“I—You—I didn’t mean—” The words tangle on my tongue. My brain has apparently stopped functioning. All I can process is the warmth of his skin against my fingers, the sight of his broad shoulders, how water still clings to the hair on his chest.

I stumble backward, nearly tripping again. “I’m so sorry! I’ll just…I’ll wait outside!”

I practically run from the bathroom, cheeks blazing, heart thundering so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t burst from my chest. In the main room, I press my back against the wall and try to remember how to breathe.

What the hell is happening to me?

I’m a trained warrior. I’ve killed enemies without flinching. I’ve stood beside the Queen and never wavered. But five seconds in that bathroom, and I turn into a blushing, stammering mess?

The image is seared into my mind. His shoulders. The defined muscles of his stomach. How his damp skin gleamed like bronze in the light filtering through the window. The scars that marked him—proof of battles fought and survived.

And…other things. Things I definitely should not be thinking about. Things that make heat pool low in my belly and my wolf stir restlessly beneath my skin. I didn’t know men could be that…big! I’ve never seen—

My face burns even hotter, and I squeeze my eyes shut again, refusing to let my mind go there. Gods, what is wrong with me?

“Get yourself together,” I mutter, pressing my palms to my hot cheeks. “He’s an alpha. Your temporary assignment. That’s all.”

I hear movement from the bathroom. The rustle of fabric. He’s getting dressed. Thank the heavens.

I straighten my spine and school my expression into something resembling professionalism. I am Daciana, personal guard to the Queen, skilled warrior, survivor of near-fatal attacks. I will not be undone by the sight of a naked man, no matter how magnificent he is.

The door opens.

Kieran emerges, fully clothed now in simple, dark trousers and a loose, white shirt that is still unlaced at the collar. His hair is damp, pushed back from his face, and his eyes find mine instantly.

“Are you alright?” he asks, genuine concern beneath the amusement.

“Fine,” I say too quickly. “Perfectly fine. I apologize for barging in like that. It won’t happen again.”

He studies me for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he moves toward a table where papers are spread out, giving me space. Letting me breathe.

“I wanted to discuss your new role as liaison,” he says, his voice professional now. But I catch the ghost of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

I clear my throat. “Of course. What do you want me to do?”

He glances back at me, and for just a second, heat flashes in his eyes. It’s gone so quickly, I think I might have imagined it, but it sends a shiver down my spine.

“Many things,” he says quietly. Then, more briskly, “But we can start with coordinating communication between my delegation and the royal court.”

I nod, trying to focus on his words instead of how his shirt hangs open at the throat, revealing a glimpse of the chest I just had my hands on.

This is going to be a very long assignment.

AN HOUR LATER, I’m back in my own quarters, finally alone. The meeting was professional. Straightforward. Kieran outlined my duties: coordinating schedules, facilitating communication, ensuring his delegation’s needs are met while maintaining diplomatic protocol. Nothing unusual. Nothing inappropriate. Except for the fact that he expects me to be by his side constantly. Even at night: he’s making arrangements for me to be housed in the chamber next to his.

Why?

I’m supposed to be a liaison. What does he think he’ll need me for at three in the morning? A few ideas certainly come to mind, and each makes my head spin. He wouldn’t want that from me, though. I’m sure he has plenty of females back in his pack. And I know I’m not the most feminine woman around.

But the entire time he was outlining my role, all I could think about was the feel of his skin beneath my fingers. How he’d looked at me with amusement and something darker, something that had made my wolf whine and pace restlessly.

I sink onto my bed and bury my face in my hands. “What is happening to me?” I mutter.

I’ve never reacted like this to a man before. Never felt this pull, this overwhelming awareness of another person’s presence. It’s more than just physical attraction, although that is potent enough to make my knees weak.

It’s something deeper. Something that causes my wolf to surge forward every time I’m near him, like she recognizes him in ways I can’t comprehend. Like there’s a thread connecting us that I can’t see but can feel pulling taut.

But it’s not a fated mate bond. I would know.

Wouldn’t I?

He would have said something.

I sigh, rubbing my hands over my face. I’ve always tried to keep a distance from Kieran, but the more our paths cross, the deeper this attraction grows.

A knock at my door makes me jump.

“Come in,” I call, composing myself.

A familiar-looking shifter enters. Kieran’s right-hand man, Artisem. He’s carrying a wicker basket.

“From Alpha Kieran,” he says with a smile, setting the delivery down on my table. “He said to make sure you ate.”

I stare at the basket after he leaves. Inside are more of those exotic fruits, along with fresh bread and cheese and a sealed container that, when I open it, releases the aroma of rich stew.

Why does he keep sending me food?

My wolf rumbles contentedly. She’s thriving in all this attention, enjoying being cared for, being courted…

No. He’s not courting me. I look at the basket, confusion warring with something warmer in my chest.

What is he doing?

THE NEXT MORNING, I’m woken by a knock at my door before dawn has fully broken. When I answer, still bleary-eyed, I find a small army of servants from Kieran’s delegation waiting there.

“What’s happening?” I ask.

“Your relocation, miss,” one of them says cheerfully. “Alpha Kieran’s orders.”

I want to protest, but they’re already moving past me, efficiently gathering my few possessions. Within an hour, everything I own has been transported to my new chambers—the ones adjacent to Kieran’s.

When Artisem arrives to oversee the final arrangements, I turn to him with my arms crossed. “This is only a temporary assignment, you know.”

“Yes, of course.” His smile is far too cheerful for this early in the morning. “But we may be here for quite a long time, so this is just for your comfort.”

The door to my new chambers opens, and I step inside.

I stop dead in my tracks.

“There must be some mistake,” I say weakly, staring around at the space that’s easily three times the size of my old quarters. Rich tapestries hang on the walls. The bed is enormous, draped in silks that probably cost more than I make in a year. There’s a sitting area with plush chairs, a writing desk of polished mahogany, and is that a private bathroom?

“No mistake,” Artisem says, still smiling.

I turn to look at him, my mouth opening and closing. Throughout the morning, as the servants finish arranging my things, I notice something odd. They’re all incredibly respectful toward me. More than respectful—almost deferential. They bow when they pass. Ask permission before moving anything. Treat me like I’m someone important rather than just a soldier doing her job.

“Are they scared of me or something?” I finally ask Artisem, watching as a young woman practically curtsies before leaving the room.

He fights a smile. “No.”

“Then why—”

“You’re the liaison,” he says simply. “They respect the position.”

Something about his tone makes me think there’s more to it than that, but before I can press him, he excuses himself.

I’m just starting to settle in, running my fingers over the impossibly soft bedding, when a knock sounds at my new door.

This time, it’s Kieran.

The moment I see him standing in my doorway, warmth floods my face. Because all I can see is yesterday. Him. Water running down every ridge and plane of muscle. How he looked at me while I stammered like an idiot with the backs of my hands pressed against his bare chest.

“May I come in?” he asks, and there’s a meaningful look in his eyes that makes me want to disappear.

“These are your delegation’s quarters,” I manage, stepping aside and desperately trying to will the flush in my cheeks away.

It doesn’t work.

He enters, his striking presence making the spacious room feel smaller. His gaze sweeps over the space before settling on me. “Do you like your new living situation?”

I glance around at the opulence surrounding me—anywhere but at him, because every time I look at him now, all I can think about is…

“It’s fancier than what I’m used to, but it’ll do.”

Silence stretches between us. I feel him staring at me and finally look up to find him watching me with one eyebrow raised, a hint of a smile on his lips.

My face heats further. “I mean…It’s good. Very good. Thank you.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up, and that small almost-smile does dangerous things to my pulse. He knows exactly what I’m thinking about. He has to know.

“I have your first order of business for today,” he says, mercifully moving on. “There’s a meeting you need to attend. The Umbra Council will be present, as well.”

My stomach tightens at the mention of the Council: the most powerful noble families in the Kingdom, wielding considerable influence over politics and policy. “I’ll be going with you and your delegation?”

“Yes.” He moves closer, and I catch the scent of him: pine and something wild, something that makes my wolf stir restlessly. “How did you find the food I sent last night?”

“You don’t have to keep feeding me,” I say, looking away from his perceptive gaze. Away from the memory of what’s beneath that perfectly tailored shirt he’s wearing.

“I like to do so.”

He says this low and warmly, like it’s something intimate rather than a simple courtesy. My breath catches. He’s dangerous. Very dangerous, because he makes me feel things I have no business feeling. Makes me remember things I definitely shouldn’t be remembering.

“I don’t eat that much as it is,” I mutter, more to fill the silence than anything else.

“You should.”

I frown, looking back at him sharply, grateful for the distraction from my traitorous thoughts. “Are you insulting me?”

He laughs—a real laugh, rich and genuine—and the sound of it washes over me. “No, Daciana. I’m not insulting you.”

How he says my name makes my skin tingle. I cross my arms, trying to regain some sense of equilibrium, trying extremely hard not to think about yesterday. “Then what are you doing?”

His eyes hold mine for a long moment, heat flickering in their depths. “Making sure you’re taken care of.”

My mouth goes dry. The air between us feels charged, electric. I’m suddenly very aware of how close he’s standing, how easy it would be to reach out and touch him, to see if his skin is as warm as I remember…

No. Stop it.

“Come with me,” he says finally, breaking the tension before it can suffocate me. “We should not be late.”

I follow him out of my new chambers and through the corridors of the palace. We walk side by side, and I’m hyperaware of every time his arm brushes mine, every accidental touch that sends electricity skating across my skin. I keep my eyes looking straight ahead, but in my peripheral vision I can see the strong line of his jaw, the way his shirt fits across his shoulders—shoulders I’ve seen bare, that I’ve touched…

Stop it, I order myself firmly.

“Nervous?” Kieran asks as we near the throne room, where Artisem is waiting.

“Should I be?”

His expression grows more serious. “With the division in the Umbra Council, one of the factions is not very happy with my pack’s presence in the capital. If we have enemies, they will be behind those doors.”

The significance of his words settles over me. This isn’t just some routine meeting; it’s political maneuvering. Possibly perilous. And he’s bringing me into it.

THE THRONE ROOM doors open with a resonant boom that echoes through my chest. I step inside beside Kieran and feel the weight of dozens of eyes turning toward us.

The Umbra Council is already assembled: powerful nobles in their finest clothes, faces ranging from carefully neutral to openly hostile. King Lucian sits on his throne with Queen Astra beside him, Seth standing at attention nearby. My former position, guarding my friend. The thought sends a pang through me, but I push it aside.

We’re halfway to the dais when a voice cuts through the murmurs.

“Why is the Queen’s guard accompanying the Snow Mountain Pack delegation?” Lord Castor, one of the more outspoken Council members, steps forward. His tone drips with barely concealed disdain.

Lucian’s expression remains calm. “Daciana is no longer solely the Queen’s guard. She has been appointed as liaison to Alpha Kieran’s delegation.”

The reaction is swift. Several nobles exchange glances. Others glare at us, their expressions darkening.

“That position was meant to be discussed with the Council,” another nobleman protests. “We had several candidates—”

“The decision has been made,” Lucian says, his voice brooking no argument.

I keep my face impassive, but anxiety thrums through me. I can feel the hostility radiating from certain members of the Council. This isn’t just about me. It’s about control. Access.

Artisem leans in slightly, his voice low so only I can hear. “They wanted a spy inside the delegation. That’s why Alpha Kieran refused every candidate until now.”

My eyes snap to Kieran. His face is a perfect mask: calm, unreadable, looking almost bored. Is that why he chose me? Because I’m loyal only to the crown? Because I can’t be bought or manipulated by these noble houses?

As if sensing my gaze, Kieran looks down at me. Our eyes meet, and there’s that half-smile again—the one that makes my breath catch in my throat and my wolf surge forward eagerly.

I look away, my cheeks warming. The more time I spend around this man, the harder it becomes to control these reactions. Every glance feels charged. Every inadvertent touch sends fire through my veins. And after yesterday—gods, after seeing him naked and feeling his skin—it’s taking every ounce of willpower I possess to maintain any semblance of professionalism.

“There is another matter we wish to discuss,” Lord Castor says, drawing my attention back to the Council. His smile is sharp, predatory. “Alpha Kieran’s pack is the only one with no formal affiliations to any other pack in the Wolf Kingdom. We believe it’s time to establish such ties.”

Kieran’s expression doesn’t change, but I feel him tense beside me. “What kind of ties are you proposing, Lord Castor?”

“A mating bond,” Castor says smoothly. “You have no mate, Alpha. Taking one from within the Kingdom would demonstrate your loyalty to the crown and create beneficial alliances.”

These words make me press my lips together. Pain lances through my chest—sharp, unexpected, stealing my breath. I jerk slightly, and Kieran’s hand finds my wrist, hidden between our bodies where no one can see. His touch is steady, but it does nothing to stop the ache spreading through my ribs.

Why does this hurt? Why does the thought of him with someone else make me want to…

“How would taking a mate prove loyalty?” Kieran asks, his tone mild. His thumb brushes against my pulse point, and I wonder if he can feel how fast it’s racing.

“Because then you would have ties to the other packs and to the Kingdom itself,” another council member chimes in. “Your interests would align with ours.”

This was planned. I can see it in their positioning, in the carefully rehearsed arguments. This isn’t a spontaneous suggestion. It’s an ambush.

Lord Castor takes another step forward, and suddenly, several other nobles join him. “We are willing to put forward candidates. My daughter…”

“My niece…”

“Lady Helena from House Mordane…”

Their voices overlap, each trying to offer up their female relatives like prizes at auction. My stomach twists, and a dark, possessive feeling rises in my chest. My wolf snarls, hackles raised, and I have to dig my nails into my palms to keep her contained.

“This is a trap,” Artisem hisses beside me.

“I know,” Kieran says quietly from my other side.

And I understand. If he refuses to take a mate, he’s essentially declaring he won’t swear loyalty to the King. But if he accepts, he could be bringing an enemy—a spy—directly into his pack. Into his bed.

The thought makes me see red.

“We await your response, Alpha Kieran,” Lord Castor says, his smile triumphant.

Kieran’s thumb traces another circle against my wrist, and I realize my hands are trembling.

The throne room is now silent. All eyes are on him, waiting. The trap has been sprung perfectly. There’s no way out that doesn’t cost him something.

“Very well,” Kieran says finally, his voice carrying through the vast space. “I will consider the candidates you have put forward.”

His words feel like claws raking down my chest.

I know why he’s doing this. I understand the politics, the impossible position they’ve put him in. He has to say yes. He has to play along or risk everything his pack needs from this alliance.

But knowing all this doesn’t matter. It still feels like someone is ripping my heart out with their bare hands.