Maddona

The very next morning, I find myself in Nathaniel's training room.

The space is large, windowless, and unforgiving, like a coliseum carved into the mountain. Jagged stone walls, polished obsidian floors, and metallic chains lining the walls speak of brutal training regimens and generations of pain built into the foundation. Every inch of it screams Dreymond.

It's also stiflingly hot.

The room was clearly designed to contain the strength of a creature that wasn't meant to be caged. That wasn't meant to be controlled. If it can withstand a Dreymond, it can go through anything.

His back is turned to me. He doesn't notice my presence yet—his shoulders are far too relaxed, his breathing too steady. He's lost in the rhythm of his training.

His scent reaches me first.

The first time we met, his pheromones were sharp, laced with dominance, a Dreymond signature. But this… this scent is different. Sweet, cajoling. Familiar…

It throws me off for a moment. I was hoping to take my sweet time with him.

Sweat lines his tan, bare back, trailing over the black Dreymond dragon insignia branded along his spine. It glistens faintly in the training room's low amber light. His muscles move like silk over granite, controlled yet barely restrained. He radiates raw power—the kind the Council can't control, no matter how high they climb.

But something blocks it.

Something caged.

His beast is a ferocious creature born for destruction. It craves freedom. It howls for it. But the human? The human is timid. Afraid. Shaped by circumstances far beyond his control.

He may not want to tell me about it, but I know enough already.

Even his father won't be able to hold a candle to him once he lets go. Their bloodline was blessed by gods so ancient they've been forgotten by name. So much so that they incurred the wrath of Selene herself.

They know so little about their true strength. Their real origin. Since the day I encountered a Dreymond, I knew well to keep an eye on them. I watched for years, from the shadows, how they panic when they realize what they are. Hiding it from the world like a sin. Wasting it.

Wasting so much potential.

I decide to make myself known.

"Who gave you your scent?"

In a blink, I'm pinned.

My back hits the wall with a shuddering crack. Stone fractures beneath the impact. The air rushes out of my lungs.

Wow. Impressive.

Nathaniel's hand is on my throat, pressing, steady, dangerous. His other arm raised, ready to strike—if not for my hand catching his fist mid-air.

His eyes narrow as he realizes it's me. But he doesn't release me. He doesn't step back. He looms.

"Why are you here?" His voice is low, more beast than man.

His eyes scan my face. One__ then the other__as if he's memorizing them. Capturing them piece by piece. I release his fist slowly, deliberately.

"Such a surprise. The heir to the Dreymond throne hides a terrifying secret. What would the world think?"

His eyes widen for a flicker, gold and violet flashing behind his irises. The wolf surges forward, clawing toward the surface.

He tries to block the scent, foolishly thinking it would matter.

"You're playing a very dangerous game, Rose," he growls. "I'm a different breed than anyone you've ever dealt with. Don't act too cocky."

If only you knew.

He knows. He knows his nature. The awareness is such a turn-on. And Rose?

I'm flattered.

Though I'd prefer something more… unique.

I raise my hand slowly and let my forefinger rest just inside the waistband of his training pants.

"Now, now, precious. Usually people in your situation would try to appease me, not threaten me. Are you sure this is the method you want to go with? I'm not complaining either way."

My index finger traces the edge of the material, barely brushing his heated skin.

He shudders.

His forehead drops to the wall beside my head, arm still pinning me. He's covering me almost completely now. We may be the same height, but he's broader. He's heavier. Just the right weight and heat.

"Don't fret, precious," I murmur near his ear. "Your secret will remain one. Until you decide otherwise. I won't tell."

I slide my palm lower to his abdomen.

He tenses.

Then exhales.

He relaxes into the touch.

"Why…"

I tilt my head toward his, watching the flicker of emotions in his stormy eyes.

He's unraveling.

I whisper into his ear, "Now, it's no fun telling, is it? It's a lot more interesting to watch another one of your kind go through it all over again. Searching for a cure to a condition that was never a curse to begin with. It's fascinating how uninformed and terrified your bloodline is about what it truly is."

Nathaniel jerks away like I burned him.

"You knew someone like me? Who was it?"

I could lie.

Spin a riddle.

But the look in his eyes stops me. He needs to know. For once, it's not about dominance. Not about control.

It's about survival.

My own little version of a game.

So I say.

"You concern yourself with the wrong things, precious."

"Do you know how to make it stop?"

Ah, desperation.

It bleeds from him. Makes him vulnerable. Beautiful, even.

"You don't."

He stares. Doesn't speak.

So I continue.

"The other one wasn't different from you. In fact, you two shared many traits. He believed it was a disease. An abomination. He sought a cure, and in his desperation, he destroyed himself.

"There's not much left to tell. But here's what you need to understand.

"You aren't broken.

"You're becoming."

Silence blooms between us.

I know I'm smiling too brightly. But I can't help it.

He weakens my barriers.

Nathaniel watches me for a long, long time. Then.

"You're crazy."

I smile wider. "You're scared."

He laughs.

Dry. Short. But it's a laugh.

Then, finally, he steps back. Giving me space.

I feel the absence like a chill.

"So this is normal?" he asks.

"Very much so."

"You sound unsure."

I raise a brow. "Don't you think 'normal' is a little too mundane a word to use?"

He narrows his eyes. "What do you know?"

"Enough to help."

He watches me a beat longer. Then turns back to the training dummy.

The spell is broken.

For now.

"You say you're bonded to the blonde girl. Why not ask her for help? I imagine it would ease some of your suffering."

"Emilia is not an option." He grunts, launching a savage blow that cracks the dummy's shoulder clean off.

Emilia, huh.

Fitting.

"I suspect she doesn't know yet? No matter. There are other ways. You certainly found one quite… productive."

I admire the way his muscles work as he trains.

"Yeah," I murmur. "Very productive."

He gives me a side glance, then lets out a low chuckle.

"You are one strange creature. I don't know what to make of you."

He stops completely and faces me.

"Honestly, I can't decide if I despise you or like you. I keep fluctuating between the two, and for some reason, that's unsettling. Since you're so 'all-seeing,' care to explain that?"

I let my gaze drop to his folded arms.

"You don't hate me, precious. You're forcing yourself to. You have been since the moment we met. But you can't. That's what makes this whole thing so beautiful."

Our eyes meet. I hate these shades more than when Mathews first made me wear them.

But it's for my own peace.

Light footsteps echo through the hallway leading to the training room.

Neither of us moves.

The door opens.

And the moment fractures.

But I know this won't be the last time we splinter.

Not by a long shot when I have a say in it.