A growl rumbled from the patrol mount behind them—the beast sensing the blocked path ahead. The crossing marker had shifted to clear passage. Kael finally pulled back, his tongue dragging slowly across his lower lip, savoring her taste. He urged the mount forward.
Selene sank against the padded seat, her fingers combing through her disheveled hair, smoothing the rumpled fabric of her traveling cloak. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, her cheeks still flushed with color that had nothing to do with moon-touched cosmetics.
"The den chamber is prepared?"
Her voice came out slightly breathless.
"Same place as always." Kael's eyes stayed on the forest path ahead, but his smirk was audible. "The suite with the open terrace. Overlooks the Silver River. You like that one, don't you?"
"Mm." A low hum of approval. Her hand drifted to his thigh, her nails tracing lazy circles through the fabric. "And my... tribute reward? You know how much effort it took to balance those ledger-runes. A chest of prime silver plus an elite patrol mount—I nearly didn't get it past those ancient fossils on the Elder Council."
"My Selene. Always so capable."
Kael reached over and pinched her cheek, his gaze heavy with undisguised want and smug satisfaction.
"Don't worry. I'll reward you properly tonight."
The mount carried them through the glittering heart of the territory before pulling into the curved entrance of a high-status guest den.
I didn't watch the rest. I closed the scrying feed.
Seven nights later. The annual Moon Gala.
The great hall blazed with light—enchanted crystals refracting into a thousand prismatic shards, ceremonial goblets catching the glow as they clinked in endless toasts beneath the full moon streaming through the skylights.
I stood by the head table, exchanging pleasantries with the Pack Elders. My gaze, however, kept drifting toward the entrance.
Selene and Kael were the last to arrive.
They swept in side by side. Selene wore a wine-red gown that bared her shoulders, her appearance immaculate. But the flush lingering on her cheekbones was harder to conceal—the telltale remnant of whatever had delayed them. Her scent carried traces of him, barely masked beneath perfumed oils.
Kael walked half a step behind her, draped in a midnight-blue velvet coat trimmed with silver thread. The arrogance of youth radiated from him, untempered, almost deliberately flaunted.