Princess Redeemed, page 14
part #1 of Vampire Princess Diaries Two Series
He stalks toward me, lifts me as if I weigh no more than a feather, and sets me down on his cock.
I sigh as I sink onto him.
The completion. The ache of emptiness no longer.
He grips my hips hard, no doubt leaving marks.
I love marks. Like the marks I leave on his neck after I feed.
He’s mine. Fucking mine.
He belongs to no one but me.
Not to Eris.
Only to me.
He pulls me against his chest and finds my mouth again, our tongues battling in the heated, frenzied kiss. I let out a moan into his mouth as he begins to move underneath me, thrusting upward in a feral rhythm that has me gasping for breath. Sweat beads on my skin and the room becomes too hot.
“Is this what you wanted, princess?” he groans against my lips, the muscles of his back tightening under my fingertips. He moves from my hips to grip my ass, holding me in place as he drives into me again and again.
“Yes,” I gasp out, the pleasure building within me, coiling tight like a spring ready to snap. “Yes, this is what I wanted.”
His grunts and moans fill the room. He quickens his pace, and our bodies slap together. The raw power of him, the heat, the intensity—it’s too much and not enough all at once.
“Yes,” I gasp again. “Rogan, yes!”
He growls low and desperate in my ear. He thrusts harder, faster, harder, faster…
“Princess,” he snarls. “I’m… Fuck!” With one final thrust, he climaxes, emptying himself inside me.
His spasms send me over the edge. I clench around him, and my orgasm pulses through me as I shudder in his arms. The world narrows down to us, to this moment, and I can think of nothing but the pleasure that racks my body.
And the man who gave it to me.
We stay like that for a timeless moment, our bodies still joined as we gasp for breath, sweat slicking our skin. But it feels too short. Every second spent in his arms isn’t enough.
“Hannah,” he growls in my ear, “I love you. Only you, Hannah. Only you.”
52
I look into his stormy eyes. “I love you too, Rogan,” I whisper.
With a final lingering kiss, he withdraws from me and sets me down so I’m on my feet, our bodies still touching.
I’m tempted to take him to my bed, make long and lingering love all night.
But danger is in the air. Its scent is as potent as the metallic, dark essence of Rogan’s blood.
“Our child is in danger,” I tell him. “Not just from Eris. Alara told me—”
He holds up a hand. “Wait. Who the hell is Alara?”
“She’s an old vampire.” I look around. “She was here. I don’t know where she went off to. I thought she was going to stay with me. Anyway, she told me things. Taught me things. Things my father probably should have taught me. But…” I sigh. “I would have fought him all the way.” A giant yawn splits my face.
“You need rest,” he says. “And so do I.”
I shake my head. “No. We need to—”
“Hannah”—his voice is stern—“you’ll be no good to anyone, especially our child, if you don’t get enough rest.” He sniffs. “Besides, we both need a shower.”
He’s not wrong. I broke more than one sweat wrestling with Alara’s smoky opponent, and Rogan smells like he’s just run three marathons back-to-back.
But his scent arouses me more than disgusts me. That wild lupine fragrance…
His eyes—heavy-lidded and sensual—meet mine. I take his hand and lead him toward the bathroom. The tile is cold against my bare feet as I turn the shower faucet on.
Rogan gets rid of the rest of his clothes with the animal grace that always fascinates me. The muscles beneath his skin flex with every movement.
Once the mirror is foggy, I inhale the steam, closing my eyes.
Rogan steps under the spray first, his body slick and glistening under the downpour. He holds out his hand and I join him. Our bodies mold together like two pieces of a puzzle, our hearts beating in unison against the whoosh of water falling around us.
And God, it’s soothing, as if hot water is washing away our sins and worries, at least for this transient moment.
“Is it warm enough?” Rogan asks, sliding his hands down my body to rest on my hips.
I nod and bury my face against his chest. The water cascades down our bodies, slipping through the webs of contact between us.
He glides his strong fingers into my hair and massages my scalp.
“God…” I moan. It feels like heaven.
He chuckles softly, a low rumble that ripples through me. It’s not a growl, but it would be if he were in wolf form. He’s all wolf all the time. The more time I spend around him, the more I see it.
He removes his hands from my head, and though I whimper slightly at the loss, I groan again when he rubs body wash between his palms and clamps them over my shoulders. He kneads down my arms, across my chest—not even stopping to tweak my hard nipples—down to my stomach before falling to his knees to wash my legs.
He’s tender as he cleanses me, and only then do I realize the muscle aches throughout my body. Rogan’s touch is a soothing balm.
A part of me wants to surrender to the weariness, to just let my body relax after so much tension. But there’s a battle raging inside me, one that doesn’t allow me to let my guard down.
Not yet.
Our child is in danger, and I can’t dismiss Alara’s warnings. I must be alert, sharp, prepared.
“Come here, Hannah,” Rogan murmurs against my skin as he gently lifts me into his arms. He holds me close beneath the warm cascade of water.
If only the shower could wash away my worries.
I lean into him, resting my head against his chest as he continues to gently knead his fingers into my muscles. Despite my mental turmoil, my tension slowly dissolves into the steamy air around us.
His cock is hard again, but he doesn’t fuck me.
Only holds me as the water soothes us.
A few timeless moments later, he kisses the top of my head, sets me down, and washes himself. As much as I’d like to do it for him, I’m too damned tired.
Once he’s clean, he turns off the water, leaves the shower, grabs a towel, and gently dries me.
I smooth my finger over his cut. “Does it hurt?”
“No. Not as long as I’m with you.”
Once we’re both dry, I lead him to my bed, where we lie down in each other’s arms and succumb to much-needed sleep.
Tomorrow we’ll resume our battle.
But tonight, we’ll just be.
53
I awake entangled in Rogan’s arms.
The blood lust hits me with a vengeance.
Our bodies are intertwined like two serpents wrestling. How easy it would be to slide on top of him, impale myself on his morning wood. But the hunger, the insatiable thirst gnawing at me, demands to be fed.
“Are you okay?” Rogan’s voice is sleepy.
“Fine,” I manage to croak out, struggling against the raw yearning strumming through my veins. The smell of him, warm and comforting, tempts me with a sweet promise of satiation.
My fangs snap down, and a vibrating growl curls out of my throat.
“Take what you need,” he growls.
I sink my teeth into the soft flesh of his neck, opening his carotid and letting his red gold flow over my tongue and down my throat. I’ve grown so accustomed to his dark nectar that nothing else tastes as good to me. Though my nutritional needs can be sated by any human or animal blood, only Rogan’s flows through me and strengthens me, fills me with a vitality that is both intoxicating and invigorating. His blood is my ambrosia, my heavenly syrup, and it nourishes not only me but our child inside my body. Yes, Alara said the child has no need of blood, but anything that strengthens me, makes me a better host for my baby, is a net gain for him.
I drink deeply, the rich taste of his life force hitting my palate like the finest of wines. I feel his strength pulsing through me, his life entwined with mine in a way that transcends more than mere survival. It’s an intimate sharing of ourselves, of our beings, a merging on a level so profound it’s almost spiritual.
Even though it’s not.
He’s not my soul mate. I need to remember that.
He gasps softly and digs his fingers into my hair, and I know he feels it too—the throbbing connection, binding us together in a web spun from love and necessity if not fate. His heart pounds under my touch.
“Enough,” he finally murmurs.
Reluctantly, I pull away, my fangs retracting with a painful slowness. I could easily drain him, so inebriating is his blood. I lick the small wounds closed and then cradle his face, gently wiping away the bead of blood trickling from the bite mark on his neck. I press a soft kiss to it, an apology and thank you bound in a single act. His blood still dances on my tongue as I pull back to study his face.
Rogan’s eyes flutter open, the green depths infused with warmth and trust. “You’re insatiable.”
I chuckle as I trace patterns against his chest. His skin is warm under my touch, and his heartbeat flickers under my hand.
“When you’re involved, definitely.” I press my lips against his, not in search of sustenance this time, but in celebration of our raw connection of lust and love.
Rogan runs his hands through my hair as he deepens the kiss.
I lose myself in the exquisite mixture of affection, desire, and a pinch of desperation. Every moment we share is a stolen one as long as Rogan belongs to Eris.
He breaks the kiss. “I do love you,” he whispers against my lips.
The raw and heartfelt confession echoes through the silent room like a sacred vow.
“I love you too,” I reply. “But I’m not naïve, Rogan. I know what’s coming. You and I both have important roles to play, and so does our child.”
“Our child?”
“Yeah, according to Alara, anyway.”
“Right. Alara. I’m sure she’s great and all, but I don’t know her from Eve, and while I appreciate her taking care of you, I—”
I touch his lips to silence him. “She showed me powers I never knew I possessed, Rogan. Whatever I must do, I will do it. If it means facing Eris. If it means facing my stepfather. Even my father. I’ll do it. I’ll do it because it’s my destiny.”
“Destiny…” He closes his eyes. “If we’re going to use terms like ‘destiny,’ I should return to Eris.”
“No!” I shout.
“Destiny is a fool’s errand, Hannah. Destiny means that we are pawns in a grander scheme, that we have no free will, no true agency. We’re more than that.” He tightens his fingers in my hair. “If my encounter with Eris taught me anything, it’s that we aren’t bound by the whims of fate but by our choices. Our love, our commitment to each other and our child—that’s what binds us, princess. And that’s what I choose.”
His words echo in the silence. I stare into his eyes, lost in the depths of emerald-green.
“Having a destiny doesn't imply an absence of choice,” I say. “It’s about forging your own path within those destined grounds.”
“It is.”
Rogan jerks at the voice.
Alara.
She’s returned.
I hastily wrap the sheets around Rogan’s and my naked bodies.
54
“Apologies, I didn’t realize you two were…occupied,” Alara says, averting her gaze, but not before an amused smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.
Rogan masks his surprise, replacing it with a scowl. “Who the hell are you?” he demands.
“This is Alara,” I say. “I told you about her.” Then to Alara, “You could’ve knocked.”
“And you could’ve locked,” Alara retorts. “I’m thrilled you two have found your way back to each other, but you mustn’t get complacent. I have things to tell you.”
Rogan pulls me closer. My heart leaps at his protective response, and I give him a squeeze.
Alara walks to the foot of the bed, her robe flowing around her like an ethereal cloud. “You see”—she turns towards us, her violet eyes intense—“destiny is not always about being controlled by an unseen power. It’s about aligning yourself with the flow of life, the universal energy that guides us all.”
“I see.” Rogan strokes my hair as he watches Alara, but I get the impression that he doesn’t “see” at all.
He’s tense, and I understand. I was tense around Alara at first too. But I’ve grown to trust her.
“Where does that leave us?” I ask.
Alara folds her hands, her gaze full of patient wisdom. “It leaves you exactly where you need to be. It leaves you with purpose, with direction. It leaves you with a choice.”
“A choice?” Rogan murmurs. He presses his lips against my hair.
I understand at once. He made his choice. He chose me. He chose our child.
“Yes.” Alara shifts her gaze to me, her eyes probing into my soul, “A choice to embrace or reject your destiny.”
Rogan. I hear his heartbeat accelerate. I feel it as if it’s my own. I know what he’s thinking. He already rejected his fate—his mating with Eris.
“And what if we choose to reject it?” he asks.
Alara sighs deeply, and her eyes flicker with an emotion I can’t decipher. “Then the path becomes more complicated and fraught with peril. But each path is yours to walk, each choice is yours to make. It might not be an easier path, but it could be a more fulfilling one.”
Rogan’s grip on me tightens. His blood whooshes more quickly through his veins, hurling toward his heart.
“What about our child?” Rogan finally asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
Alara’s smile softens. “Your child, too, has a destiny. I’ve explained this to Hannah. His destiny is entwined with both of yours.”
Rogan’s grip on me slackens slightly, and he rests his other hand over my belly. His eyes are a sea of emotions—love, fear, determination. I place my own hand over his, intertwining our fingers.
“But,” Alara adds, “the future is not set in stone. It is malleable, shaped by decisions and actions. By love.”
She shifts her gaze from me back to Rogan, her eyes unblinking. “Your child will be powerful—a force to be reckoned with regardless of the path you two choose.”
The air thins as we absorb Alara’s words. A heavy weight settles in my chest as I contemplate the immensity of the future that lies before us. It’s overwhelming, daunting. Yet inside me, determination spreads like wildfire.
“We will face this together,” he whispers, his lips brushing against my ear.
Alara’s expression goes hard. “Some things you must face separately, as you will see. Eris is near. She’s ready to fight for her mate, Hannah. Are you ready to fight for yours?”
55
My heart throbs against my ribcage, and I swallow hard. The mere mention of Eris sends a chill down my spine—not from fear, but because of her connection to the man I love.
She’s no longer abstract, either. Not when she threatens what I hold most dear.
I look into Alara’s piercing eyes, so full of trust and faith in me. “I will fight. Not just for Rogan, but also for our child.”
Rogan strokes my cheek tenderly. “And I’ll fight for you both,” he says, his tone fierce with determination.
Alara shakes her head. “This is Princess Hannah’s fight. And Hannah, you are fighting for more than your child and your lover. You’re fighting for your way of life. For your people. For your child’s people.”
“For humanity? Vampires. Lycans?” I say.
“Yes. We’ve talked about this. Your child must be born, and if Eris has her way, he won’t be. This is your battle, Hannah. A prophecy made this clear.”
“Prophecy?” Rogan’s face tightens, his scowl returning.
“Indeed.” Alara nods. “An ancient prophecy speaks of a fierce battle that will determine the course of the future. Hannah, you—and your child—are at the center of it.”
Fear and uncertainty dance like shadows in Rogan’s gaze, but beneath them is determination. Determination and love.
“What does this prophecy say?” I ask.
Alara closes her eyes and recites from memory.
“The one of royal blood shall rise,
To challenge fate with love’s sweet cries,
She’ll face the serpent in her lair,
And bear a child, her heart’s own heir.
The serpent’s venom seeks to sear,
But love unyielding conquers fear.
She casts her lot, her choice to fate,
And will, through love, unlatch the gate.”
My chest tightens. I glance at Rogan. His gaze is intense, his jaw clenched tight.
“The serpent… Eris,” I murmur.
Alara opens her eyes and nods.
“But Eris isn’t a serpent,” I say, more to myself than to either Alara or Rogan. “She’s a wolf.”
“So it appears,” Alara replies.
“So it appears?” I run my fingers over my abdomen, my child.
And then it hits me—hard—like a bolt of lightning searing through my skull. It slams into me with the force of a wrecking ball and knocks the breath from my lungs. My vision tunnels, my pulse roaring in my ears as the pieces snap together with terrifying clarity.
Eris was never just a wolf. Eris was never just Rogan’s fated mate.
This is all so much more than that.
There’s a reason Alara pushed me to awaken the power buried deep inside me.
I don’t need raw, earth-shattering power to rip a she-wolf apart for daring to challenge me, for daring to threaten my child. I only need the ruthless fury burning in my veins—because when it comes to my child and my mate, I won’t just win.
I’ll obliterate.
Which means…
“I see your thoughts churning, Hannah.” Alara closes her eyes once more. “Get dressed, both of you. And Hannah, it’s time to prepare for your battle.” She leaves the room, closing the door.
I sigh as I sink onto him.
The completion. The ache of emptiness no longer.
He grips my hips hard, no doubt leaving marks.
I love marks. Like the marks I leave on his neck after I feed.
He’s mine. Fucking mine.
He belongs to no one but me.
Not to Eris.
Only to me.
He pulls me against his chest and finds my mouth again, our tongues battling in the heated, frenzied kiss. I let out a moan into his mouth as he begins to move underneath me, thrusting upward in a feral rhythm that has me gasping for breath. Sweat beads on my skin and the room becomes too hot.
“Is this what you wanted, princess?” he groans against my lips, the muscles of his back tightening under my fingertips. He moves from my hips to grip my ass, holding me in place as he drives into me again and again.
“Yes,” I gasp out, the pleasure building within me, coiling tight like a spring ready to snap. “Yes, this is what I wanted.”
His grunts and moans fill the room. He quickens his pace, and our bodies slap together. The raw power of him, the heat, the intensity—it’s too much and not enough all at once.
“Yes,” I gasp again. “Rogan, yes!”
He growls low and desperate in my ear. He thrusts harder, faster, harder, faster…
“Princess,” he snarls. “I’m… Fuck!” With one final thrust, he climaxes, emptying himself inside me.
His spasms send me over the edge. I clench around him, and my orgasm pulses through me as I shudder in his arms. The world narrows down to us, to this moment, and I can think of nothing but the pleasure that racks my body.
And the man who gave it to me.
We stay like that for a timeless moment, our bodies still joined as we gasp for breath, sweat slicking our skin. But it feels too short. Every second spent in his arms isn’t enough.
“Hannah,” he growls in my ear, “I love you. Only you, Hannah. Only you.”
52
I look into his stormy eyes. “I love you too, Rogan,” I whisper.
With a final lingering kiss, he withdraws from me and sets me down so I’m on my feet, our bodies still touching.
I’m tempted to take him to my bed, make long and lingering love all night.
But danger is in the air. Its scent is as potent as the metallic, dark essence of Rogan’s blood.
“Our child is in danger,” I tell him. “Not just from Eris. Alara told me—”
He holds up a hand. “Wait. Who the hell is Alara?”
“She’s an old vampire.” I look around. “She was here. I don’t know where she went off to. I thought she was going to stay with me. Anyway, she told me things. Taught me things. Things my father probably should have taught me. But…” I sigh. “I would have fought him all the way.” A giant yawn splits my face.
“You need rest,” he says. “And so do I.”
I shake my head. “No. We need to—”
“Hannah”—his voice is stern—“you’ll be no good to anyone, especially our child, if you don’t get enough rest.” He sniffs. “Besides, we both need a shower.”
He’s not wrong. I broke more than one sweat wrestling with Alara’s smoky opponent, and Rogan smells like he’s just run three marathons back-to-back.
But his scent arouses me more than disgusts me. That wild lupine fragrance…
His eyes—heavy-lidded and sensual—meet mine. I take his hand and lead him toward the bathroom. The tile is cold against my bare feet as I turn the shower faucet on.
Rogan gets rid of the rest of his clothes with the animal grace that always fascinates me. The muscles beneath his skin flex with every movement.
Once the mirror is foggy, I inhale the steam, closing my eyes.
Rogan steps under the spray first, his body slick and glistening under the downpour. He holds out his hand and I join him. Our bodies mold together like two pieces of a puzzle, our hearts beating in unison against the whoosh of water falling around us.
And God, it’s soothing, as if hot water is washing away our sins and worries, at least for this transient moment.
“Is it warm enough?” Rogan asks, sliding his hands down my body to rest on my hips.
I nod and bury my face against his chest. The water cascades down our bodies, slipping through the webs of contact between us.
He glides his strong fingers into my hair and massages my scalp.
“God…” I moan. It feels like heaven.
He chuckles softly, a low rumble that ripples through me. It’s not a growl, but it would be if he were in wolf form. He’s all wolf all the time. The more time I spend around him, the more I see it.
He removes his hands from my head, and though I whimper slightly at the loss, I groan again when he rubs body wash between his palms and clamps them over my shoulders. He kneads down my arms, across my chest—not even stopping to tweak my hard nipples—down to my stomach before falling to his knees to wash my legs.
He’s tender as he cleanses me, and only then do I realize the muscle aches throughout my body. Rogan’s touch is a soothing balm.
A part of me wants to surrender to the weariness, to just let my body relax after so much tension. But there’s a battle raging inside me, one that doesn’t allow me to let my guard down.
Not yet.
Our child is in danger, and I can’t dismiss Alara’s warnings. I must be alert, sharp, prepared.
“Come here, Hannah,” Rogan murmurs against my skin as he gently lifts me into his arms. He holds me close beneath the warm cascade of water.
If only the shower could wash away my worries.
I lean into him, resting my head against his chest as he continues to gently knead his fingers into my muscles. Despite my mental turmoil, my tension slowly dissolves into the steamy air around us.
His cock is hard again, but he doesn’t fuck me.
Only holds me as the water soothes us.
A few timeless moments later, he kisses the top of my head, sets me down, and washes himself. As much as I’d like to do it for him, I’m too damned tired.
Once he’s clean, he turns off the water, leaves the shower, grabs a towel, and gently dries me.
I smooth my finger over his cut. “Does it hurt?”
“No. Not as long as I’m with you.”
Once we’re both dry, I lead him to my bed, where we lie down in each other’s arms and succumb to much-needed sleep.
Tomorrow we’ll resume our battle.
But tonight, we’ll just be.
53
I awake entangled in Rogan’s arms.
The blood lust hits me with a vengeance.
Our bodies are intertwined like two serpents wrestling. How easy it would be to slide on top of him, impale myself on his morning wood. But the hunger, the insatiable thirst gnawing at me, demands to be fed.
“Are you okay?” Rogan’s voice is sleepy.
“Fine,” I manage to croak out, struggling against the raw yearning strumming through my veins. The smell of him, warm and comforting, tempts me with a sweet promise of satiation.
My fangs snap down, and a vibrating growl curls out of my throat.
“Take what you need,” he growls.
I sink my teeth into the soft flesh of his neck, opening his carotid and letting his red gold flow over my tongue and down my throat. I’ve grown so accustomed to his dark nectar that nothing else tastes as good to me. Though my nutritional needs can be sated by any human or animal blood, only Rogan’s flows through me and strengthens me, fills me with a vitality that is both intoxicating and invigorating. His blood is my ambrosia, my heavenly syrup, and it nourishes not only me but our child inside my body. Yes, Alara said the child has no need of blood, but anything that strengthens me, makes me a better host for my baby, is a net gain for him.
I drink deeply, the rich taste of his life force hitting my palate like the finest of wines. I feel his strength pulsing through me, his life entwined with mine in a way that transcends more than mere survival. It’s an intimate sharing of ourselves, of our beings, a merging on a level so profound it’s almost spiritual.
Even though it’s not.
He’s not my soul mate. I need to remember that.
He gasps softly and digs his fingers into my hair, and I know he feels it too—the throbbing connection, binding us together in a web spun from love and necessity if not fate. His heart pounds under my touch.
“Enough,” he finally murmurs.
Reluctantly, I pull away, my fangs retracting with a painful slowness. I could easily drain him, so inebriating is his blood. I lick the small wounds closed and then cradle his face, gently wiping away the bead of blood trickling from the bite mark on his neck. I press a soft kiss to it, an apology and thank you bound in a single act. His blood still dances on my tongue as I pull back to study his face.
Rogan’s eyes flutter open, the green depths infused with warmth and trust. “You’re insatiable.”
I chuckle as I trace patterns against his chest. His skin is warm under my touch, and his heartbeat flickers under my hand.
“When you’re involved, definitely.” I press my lips against his, not in search of sustenance this time, but in celebration of our raw connection of lust and love.
Rogan runs his hands through my hair as he deepens the kiss.
I lose myself in the exquisite mixture of affection, desire, and a pinch of desperation. Every moment we share is a stolen one as long as Rogan belongs to Eris.
He breaks the kiss. “I do love you,” he whispers against my lips.
The raw and heartfelt confession echoes through the silent room like a sacred vow.
“I love you too,” I reply. “But I’m not naïve, Rogan. I know what’s coming. You and I both have important roles to play, and so does our child.”
“Our child?”
“Yeah, according to Alara, anyway.”
“Right. Alara. I’m sure she’s great and all, but I don’t know her from Eve, and while I appreciate her taking care of you, I—”
I touch his lips to silence him. “She showed me powers I never knew I possessed, Rogan. Whatever I must do, I will do it. If it means facing Eris. If it means facing my stepfather. Even my father. I’ll do it. I’ll do it because it’s my destiny.”
“Destiny…” He closes his eyes. “If we’re going to use terms like ‘destiny,’ I should return to Eris.”
“No!” I shout.
“Destiny is a fool’s errand, Hannah. Destiny means that we are pawns in a grander scheme, that we have no free will, no true agency. We’re more than that.” He tightens his fingers in my hair. “If my encounter with Eris taught me anything, it’s that we aren’t bound by the whims of fate but by our choices. Our love, our commitment to each other and our child—that’s what binds us, princess. And that’s what I choose.”
His words echo in the silence. I stare into his eyes, lost in the depths of emerald-green.
“Having a destiny doesn't imply an absence of choice,” I say. “It’s about forging your own path within those destined grounds.”
“It is.”
Rogan jerks at the voice.
Alara.
She’s returned.
I hastily wrap the sheets around Rogan’s and my naked bodies.
54
“Apologies, I didn’t realize you two were…occupied,” Alara says, averting her gaze, but not before an amused smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.
Rogan masks his surprise, replacing it with a scowl. “Who the hell are you?” he demands.
“This is Alara,” I say. “I told you about her.” Then to Alara, “You could’ve knocked.”
“And you could’ve locked,” Alara retorts. “I’m thrilled you two have found your way back to each other, but you mustn’t get complacent. I have things to tell you.”
Rogan pulls me closer. My heart leaps at his protective response, and I give him a squeeze.
Alara walks to the foot of the bed, her robe flowing around her like an ethereal cloud. “You see”—she turns towards us, her violet eyes intense—“destiny is not always about being controlled by an unseen power. It’s about aligning yourself with the flow of life, the universal energy that guides us all.”
“I see.” Rogan strokes my hair as he watches Alara, but I get the impression that he doesn’t “see” at all.
He’s tense, and I understand. I was tense around Alara at first too. But I’ve grown to trust her.
“Where does that leave us?” I ask.
Alara folds her hands, her gaze full of patient wisdom. “It leaves you exactly where you need to be. It leaves you with purpose, with direction. It leaves you with a choice.”
“A choice?” Rogan murmurs. He presses his lips against my hair.
I understand at once. He made his choice. He chose me. He chose our child.
“Yes.” Alara shifts her gaze to me, her eyes probing into my soul, “A choice to embrace or reject your destiny.”
Rogan. I hear his heartbeat accelerate. I feel it as if it’s my own. I know what he’s thinking. He already rejected his fate—his mating with Eris.
“And what if we choose to reject it?” he asks.
Alara sighs deeply, and her eyes flicker with an emotion I can’t decipher. “Then the path becomes more complicated and fraught with peril. But each path is yours to walk, each choice is yours to make. It might not be an easier path, but it could be a more fulfilling one.”
Rogan’s grip on me tightens. His blood whooshes more quickly through his veins, hurling toward his heart.
“What about our child?” Rogan finally asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
Alara’s smile softens. “Your child, too, has a destiny. I’ve explained this to Hannah. His destiny is entwined with both of yours.”
Rogan’s grip on me slackens slightly, and he rests his other hand over my belly. His eyes are a sea of emotions—love, fear, determination. I place my own hand over his, intertwining our fingers.
“But,” Alara adds, “the future is not set in stone. It is malleable, shaped by decisions and actions. By love.”
She shifts her gaze from me back to Rogan, her eyes unblinking. “Your child will be powerful—a force to be reckoned with regardless of the path you two choose.”
The air thins as we absorb Alara’s words. A heavy weight settles in my chest as I contemplate the immensity of the future that lies before us. It’s overwhelming, daunting. Yet inside me, determination spreads like wildfire.
“We will face this together,” he whispers, his lips brushing against my ear.
Alara’s expression goes hard. “Some things you must face separately, as you will see. Eris is near. She’s ready to fight for her mate, Hannah. Are you ready to fight for yours?”
55
My heart throbs against my ribcage, and I swallow hard. The mere mention of Eris sends a chill down my spine—not from fear, but because of her connection to the man I love.
She’s no longer abstract, either. Not when she threatens what I hold most dear.
I look into Alara’s piercing eyes, so full of trust and faith in me. “I will fight. Not just for Rogan, but also for our child.”
Rogan strokes my cheek tenderly. “And I’ll fight for you both,” he says, his tone fierce with determination.
Alara shakes her head. “This is Princess Hannah’s fight. And Hannah, you are fighting for more than your child and your lover. You’re fighting for your way of life. For your people. For your child’s people.”
“For humanity? Vampires. Lycans?” I say.
“Yes. We’ve talked about this. Your child must be born, and if Eris has her way, he won’t be. This is your battle, Hannah. A prophecy made this clear.”
“Prophecy?” Rogan’s face tightens, his scowl returning.
“Indeed.” Alara nods. “An ancient prophecy speaks of a fierce battle that will determine the course of the future. Hannah, you—and your child—are at the center of it.”
Fear and uncertainty dance like shadows in Rogan’s gaze, but beneath them is determination. Determination and love.
“What does this prophecy say?” I ask.
Alara closes her eyes and recites from memory.
“The one of royal blood shall rise,
To challenge fate with love’s sweet cries,
She’ll face the serpent in her lair,
And bear a child, her heart’s own heir.
The serpent’s venom seeks to sear,
But love unyielding conquers fear.
She casts her lot, her choice to fate,
And will, through love, unlatch the gate.”
My chest tightens. I glance at Rogan. His gaze is intense, his jaw clenched tight.
“The serpent… Eris,” I murmur.
Alara opens her eyes and nods.
“But Eris isn’t a serpent,” I say, more to myself than to either Alara or Rogan. “She’s a wolf.”
“So it appears,” Alara replies.
“So it appears?” I run my fingers over my abdomen, my child.
And then it hits me—hard—like a bolt of lightning searing through my skull. It slams into me with the force of a wrecking ball and knocks the breath from my lungs. My vision tunnels, my pulse roaring in my ears as the pieces snap together with terrifying clarity.
Eris was never just a wolf. Eris was never just Rogan’s fated mate.
This is all so much more than that.
There’s a reason Alara pushed me to awaken the power buried deep inside me.
I don’t need raw, earth-shattering power to rip a she-wolf apart for daring to challenge me, for daring to threaten my child. I only need the ruthless fury burning in my veins—because when it comes to my child and my mate, I won’t just win.
I’ll obliterate.
Which means…
“I see your thoughts churning, Hannah.” Alara closes her eyes once more. “Get dressed, both of you. And Hannah, it’s time to prepare for your battle.” She leaves the room, closing the door.
