Chapter 9 · The Woman Who Died

I woke up on Darius's bed with my neck on fire.

Not fire. The bite. His claim.

I pressed my fingers to the spot and felt ridged skin, already half-healed. Too fast. Way too fast for a normal wound. My hand came away clean—no blood, just heat that pulsed in time with my heartbeat.

The room was dark except for a sliver of moonlight through the curtains. I sat up slow, testing my balance. My head felt stuffed with cotton, but the rest of me was wired, buzzing, like I'd chugged three Red Bulls on an empty stomach.

The door opened. Kyle.

He stopped in the doorway, one hand still on the knob. His eyes flicked to my neck, then away.

"You're awake."

"Yeah." My voice came out rough. I cleared my throat. "Where's Darius?"

"Downstairs. Damage control." Kyle stepped inside but kept his distance, like I might explode again. "Half the pack saw what happened. The other half heard about it in ten minutes."

I rubbed my face. "The kneeling thing."

"The kneeling thing," Kyle echoed. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Royal bloodline command. Involuntary. We couldn't stop it even if we wanted to.