Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King

Marking. The most intimate thing a wolf can do. It was an instinct Nicholas had been battling since the moment he set eyes on Guinevere Lunaris. And it just won the war.

His fangs dropped, full extension, breaking the skin on her neck. By the time he understood fully what he was doing, his venom was flowing into her bloodstream, carrying the biological signature that would bond his wolf to hers.

But he would have done it anyways, even if his wolf and instincts hadn’t taken over. She was dying, and his body knew how to stop it. There was no decision.

The roar tore out of Maddox’s chest with enough force to vibrate the ground beneath him. His vision tunneled. Gold bled across his irises and his dragon surged so hard against his ribs he thought the bones would snap. Every nerve ending in his body was firing at once, all of them pointed at the wolf whose fangs were in his wife’s throat.

”DON’T YOU FUCKING TOUCH HER!”

Nicholas didn’t flinch. His jaw stayed clamped shut, because his wolf understood something no one else did.

In half a second, blades were drawn, all alliances fractured, and the clearing split into two sides. Wolves on one. Dragons on the other. Damon in the middle, one hand on his bleeding neck and the other raised toward Sterling, shaking his head once. Don’t.

Sterling’s blade was already drawn. The ’don’t’ was optimistic.

The Drakencrest family flame hit the wolf king from two different sources with enough force to cremate him twice over. Crown and dark horse, for the first time in years, were on the same side at the same time. It was the side that wanted Nicholas dead.

The flame wouldn’t burn Guinevere’s body, which is why Kael used it instead of his black.

But before it made contact, white light surged around Nicholas’s body, wrapping him in the same glow as her wolf’s. When the flame hit, it didn’t even register.

Then gold. A single flare inside the white, there and gone. Another, lasting longer. The third erupted from her chest and didn’t stop. It blazed outward, covering her body, crossing the space between them, and rolling over Nicholas’s skin on top of the white. The Drakencrest flame was protecting a man it was also trying to kill.

The sound that came out of Nicholas was a sob that he would deny for the rest of his life. His whole body trembled, and for three full seconds the most powerful Alpha in Nyros was nothing but a man on his knees, praying to a god he’d never believed in.

Thump. A heartbeat. Small. Defiant.

Thump. Thump. The third was stronger than the first two combined, like her heart had remembered how to beat, and it came back angry.

Her chest moved and she inhaled like she’d been drowning in the ocean.

The connection to her thrummed back to life hitting Maddox in a tidal wave. His flame died in his fist and his knees gave. He caught himself with one hand on the ground, the other reaching for her, and the breath that came out of him was the first full breath he’d taken since her heart stopped.

He moved beside her, then threaded his fingers through hers, clumsy, too tight, and brought her hand to his mouth. The kiss landed on her knuckles, then her fingers, then her palm, each one quieter than the last.

Kael’s flame didn’t stop for another full second. When it did, he didn’t lower his hand, every line of him still aimed at Nicholas like a loaded weapon waiting for a reason.

Damon’s legs buckled. He went down on one knee, hand still pressed to his bleeding neck. One exhale. Broken and relieved and soaked in blood. His Alpha’s gamble had worked and none of the dragons burned him in the process. His lucky day.

Ryker sheathed his blade, hand shaking, and moved to Guinevere’s other side next to Maddox. Immediately, Nicholas’s wolf growled, the vibration coming from his chest. Ryker ignored it, not looking at him.

Griffin looked at Damon, looked at Nicholas, looked at the gold light still pulsing through the clearing, and said the first honest thing he’d said all night. ”What the fuck just happened?”

No one answered.

”Take your fangs out of her neck. Now,” Maddox growled.

Nicholas didn’t move, closing his eyes. When they opened, the amber was gone. What looked back at Maddox was pure wolf, staring through a human face with fangs still buried in her throat. The message was clear: Fuck off.

And just like that, every blade was drawn again.

Jaxon stepped between the two sides, and raised his arms, with a voice that cut through the testosterone. ”Lower your weapons. We’re all on the same side.”

His peacekeeping speech landed with the effectiveness of a paper umbrella in a hurricane. In reality, there were at least three sides in this clearing and two of them had fire.

Then Guinevere’s hand moved, her fingers found Nicholas’s jaw, her grip weak. Barely there. But deliberate. She was holding him to her and every man in the clearing saw it.

His fangs retracted on their own. Slow. His wolf released her the way a predator releases prey it has decided to protect. Blood ran down her neck and met gold light, and the two mixed into something no one in the clearing had a name for.

The tension was so thick breathing felt like trespassing.

Nicholas pulled her against his chest, holding her bridal style, with every single protective instinct firing, and stood slowly with her still in his arms.

”Drop her. Now,” Maddox commanded.

”No.”

The silence held cold, completely and without mercy.

”You bit her and you think because she’s breathing, I won’t kill you?”

”This isn’t a bite, Maddox. It’s a mark. Alpha venom was the only way to save her wolf and her by extension.” Nicholas’s eyes held Maddox’s. ”If you hurt me, she’ll now feel it too.”

Maddox moved in a blur, yanking her out of Nicholas’s grasp, hard enough to bruise. ”She’s not yours. You just bought yourself time not forgiveness.”

”You ripped her away hard enough to leave marks.” Nicholas’s voice was calm. ”Interesting approach for a man lecturing me about touching her.”

”The difference,” Maddox gritted, ”is that she’s mine.”

”Correction. She was yours. Past tense. Now she’s ours. You’ll adjust.”

”Say it again.” Maddox’s voice dropped into something low and dangerous. ”I dare you.”

Nicholas looked at Guinevere in Maddox’s arms. ”You can be mad at me all you want. Loosen your grip on her. Now.”

Damon, still on one knee and bleeding from the neck, watched his Alpha lecture a dragon king about gentle handling. The man had a death wish wrapped in a valid point.

Maddox’s gold eyes could have melted steel. ”I don’t need instructions from a wolf who just bit her without permission.”

”I just saved her life, jackass. And for what it’s worth, I didn’t plan this.”

”For what it’s worth,” Maddox echoed, ”I don’t care.”

”You will. When she wakes up reaching for both of us.”

”Shut your goddamn mouth.”

”Both of you. Walk. The jungle doesn’t care that you’re having a moment, and neither do I,” Kael called, moving to the front of the column. His voice carried zero sentiment and the full weight of operational reality.

Maddox carried her forward. She was alive because of a wolf’s fangs. Her heartbeat against his chest, Nicholas’s venom in her blood. Every step was a negotiation between gratitude and fury, and neither was winning, because both lived in the same woman and he couldn’t separate them without losing her.

Behind him, Nicholas’s footsteps matched his pace. The wolf was smart enough not to walk beside him and stubborn enough not to fall back.

Two kings carrying a shared wound and a shared woman and the knowledge that the bond between them had just become permanent, complicated, and completely without precedent.

”This is where I stop babysitting.” Kael looked at Maddox. ”Forty-eight hours. Starting now.”

”Forty-eight hours,” Maddox confirmed. ”And then I’m coming for you.”

”I look forward to it, little brother.” Kael’s eyes dropped to Guinevere one final time. The look lasted two seconds longer than tactical assessment required and carried something he buried before it reached his expression.

He shifted. The black dragon filled the treeline, iron eyes catching the grey light, wings spreading wide.

Maddox watched him go. His dragon rumbled in his chest. Low. Territorial. Conflicted in a way dragons were never supposed to be conflicted about the man who had just flown away.

”To formation,” Maddox ordered.

A military command, but what they needed was a therapist, a mediator, and possibly an exorcist.

Jaxon’s magic was finally working fully and he didn’t hesitate making a portal. Normally they’d wait to make portals in a safer location, but nothing about this day was normal.

No one mindlinked or said a word as they went through.

On the other side, Maddox moved through the grounds in a blur, not sparing Nicholas a glance.

Guinevere’s head lolled against his chest, her lips colorless, her body limp.

Nicholas’s eyes stayed glued on his back. Her blood was on his shirt. But he had no right to follow.