"Just the fact that you exist—that you’re right here beside me—is enough," his fingers tightened in my hair, pulling back until my neck was completely exposed to him. "That alone tears me into jagged little pieces from the inside out. And then there’s every other bastard around us, trying to steal you away, trying to claim you for themselves."
"You’re escalating again, Magnus. You’re exaggerating," I tried to object weakly, though any shred of conviction had vanished from my voice.
"Am I? Really?" His tone hardened, laced with pure lethality. "Then how do you explain the fact that Dean Nyland officially submitted a petition to the government and to your parents? That piece of shit exploited a legal loophole in the system and is moving to formally claim you—to rip you out of my hands.
He’s personally funding an entire research foundation dedicated to developing artificial conception for unbonded alpha wolves—unmatched Alphas and Breeders. The foundation’s official name was announced on the news just an hour ago. He named it The Goddess..." He paused, his heavy gaze boring into mine. "Do you even know what your name means, sweetheart?"
I shook my head, my eyes locked on his as I watched the remaining flecks of grey in his irises get completely swallowed by a sea of black.
"Jane translates to ’a graceful god,’" he stated, the words dropping like lead between us. "He thinks of you as the Goddess who can save him."
He leaned down, resting his forehead against my shoulder before sliding his face into the curve of my neck. The hot, wet trace of his tongue swiped across my scent gland—instantly hyper-sensitive—sending a violent shiver down my spine. I barely managed to choke back a groan.
"But why... why would he do all of that?" I gasped out, my head spinning from his overwhelming proximity and the heavy Alpha scent flooding my lungs. "And what loophole are you talking about?"
"Because he’s obsessed with you. He’s out of his fucking mind," he growled into my skin, the sharp tips of his fangs scraping the surface without breaking it. "He’s a sick, twisted bastard. And the loophole exists because... we haven’t officially presented our bond to high society and council yet.
You haven’t been publicly introduced as my breeder mate. The transfer documents are signed, but without the formal presentation... I can’t legally claim a woman as mine until the preceding covenant terms expire. That gap gives other alpha males a formal right to challenge my claim over you."
"What covenant terms?" I whispered, my chest tightening with a cold, creeping dread.
"When a wolf with alpha blood takes a breeder from another family, fated bonds aren’t the only thing that matters legally. In contractual unions, there are mandatory grace periods and neutrality clauses set by the houses. The contract with the Nyland family stipulated a three-year mourning period. Just yesterday, I managed to buy out two of those years from Samantha Nyland. By law, I was forbidden from presenting any woman as my partner for a full year after Karina’s death to preserve the house’s honor. Every pack contract enforces those terms. It’s the law."
"Which means...?"
He slowly dragged his lips away from my neck, leaving a slick, cooling trail that made me shiver. Straightening up, he shifted back into the driver’s seat and dragged a hand over his face and through his hair, gathering his composure. His jaw was set so tight I could see the muscles working beneath his skin.
"Which means that by the time we return from the estate, the final grace period will have expired. There are only three days left," his voice rang out, firm and decisive, leaving no room for argument. "And then I will formally present you to everyone who needs to know. Publicly. As my fated mate."
***
We had been driving in complete silence for over an hour, the city gradually receding and dissolving beyond the fogged windows, as though severing our last remaining thread to the familiar world.
The sprawling high-rises gave way to modest suburban homes, until those too vanished into the distance, leaving only scattered estates tucked behind towering gates and endless fields bathed in the ominous, blood-red light of dusk.
The sun sank toward the horizon, painting the landscape in alarming shades of fiery gold and deep crimson. It was striking, yet I couldn’t bring myself to appreciate the view. My entire focus was held captive by the man sitting beside me—by the barely contained lethality radiating off him in thick, almost tangible waves. His mere presence did something terrifying to my senses; with every breath I drew, a sudden, helpless tremor rippled deeper beneath my skin.
Magnus sat behind the wheel, and even without looking directly at him, I felt every violent shift in his posture. His features were carved from stone, his cheekbones jutting out sharp and defined, his jaw clenched so tightly I could hear the faint, dangerous grinding of his teeth. His scarred knuckles tightened and relaxed on the leather steering wheel with terrifying rhythm.
His breath tore from his chest in ragged, furious gasps. Every intake of air seemed to require immense effort, as if the oxygen in the cabin had thickened into liquid fire. Beneath the fine fabric of his shirt, his chest heaving under the strain, every muscle coiled tight like a spring ready to snap.
In the enclosed space of the car, his scent grew overwhelmingly concentrated—sharp, intoxicating, and laced with an oppressive wave of pure wolf dominance.
It pressed against me physically, like an invisible hand stroking down my bare skin. Instinctively, I shrank back into the passenger seat, pulling my legs close to my chest and pressing my spine flush against the leather.
I felt the shift in my very marrow. His rut was arriving—relentless, feral, and utterly terrifying. It was here.
The sudden realization twisted my stomach into a knot of cold panic, breathless anticipation, and something darker... a forbidden pull I was too frightened to name.
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