4

Khal Drogo.

“Was she pleasant?”

I look up at Ozaiah, my female beta.

She is a wolf who has won many battles alongside me, beaten countless males and earned her place through strength. I don’t answer her question. One, nothing happened between me and the human girl. Uh…Akemi, let me pretend like I do not remember her name. Two—I’m not fool enough to admit that nothing happened us.

“When I heard she survived the morning. I was impressed. Your mark alone would’ve killed most, let alone sharing your bed. History will speak of this for centuries.” Ozaiah jokes again, and I catch Clifford, cleaning his sword and chuckling under his breath.

I return my attention to the map in front of me, gently shifting the chess-like pieces that show how much more territory we’ve conquered before the blazing winter. Basgiath is expanding. Refugees are coming here from other werewolf realms to seek the safety we provide but they will not leech off me.

We will have their sweat and their skills—we need fishermen, we need builders, we need craftsmen to cultivate these lands for Basgiath to continue being the greatest. That is my master plan.

“Has the bride price been prepared for her brothers to collect?” I ask.

“Yes,” Ozaiah answers. “By your orders, we have prepared the largest and most ungodly amount of bride price anyone has ever received or seen in the entire six kingdoms. Hundreds of horses, hundreds of carriages, golden trinkets, golden axes, goblets, crowns, shields, and ornaments.”

“Ozaiah, are you complaining about it?” I rest my hand on the tilt of my sword and look at her.

“No…” she sighs. “The entire werewolf and human realms have heard about your marriage to a human girl. Some say it cannot be true, others are laughing, others think it is some kind of strategic plan. I would have thought so too if she weren’t your fated mate.”

This is a thought I have had to myself. This morning, I was told by Clifford that Akemi’s father was a farmer and she comes from a generation of farming. Which means her brothers must carry the knowledge that I need, especially now that I have bonded with their sister.

I don’t know if this is fate or divine strategy. Perhaps both. The moon goddess knows I intend to carve Basgiath into the bones of the earth, and so she sent a mate who comes from a family of farmers.

“I would like to speak to her brother when he arrives.”

“Brothers, Your Majesty.” Clifford corrects. “She has three brothers and with the wealth you’re giving them, they’re bound to become even more powerful.”

I grunt. More powerful? In human lands perhaps. In Basgiath, they will kneel.

“Your Majesty.” a gamma fang interrupts as he steps into my war room.

“What?” I snap.

“Um… one of your consorts from the harem seeks an audience.”

“Is she pregnant?” Ozaiah asks.

“I—I don’t believe so.”

“Then she’s not important enough to see the king.” Ozaiah sighs, sharp-tongued.

By consort, the gamma fang means a female from my harem. A section of the castle that houses, perhaps, fifty women? Perhaps more. I’ve lost count. It is utterly my mother’s handiwork. She’s hell-bent on forcing an heir into this world and she thinks that would happen by throwing every eligible female. Yet, my reign remains empty of a pup.

Why?

Two reasons—and no more.

One, Ragar, my wolf is too particular. He will not waste his seed on any womb that isn’t worthy of carrying a Firefang bloodline. Two, everything that is within a Firefang wolf is magnified tenfold in me. Where a Firefang’s claw is heat, mine is like the surge of a volcan, of asphalt, of obsidian. I am a wolf who burns too hot. No female has taken my seed long enough to bear me an heir. Not yet.

So, my throne remains vulnerable. I guess I can say that my enemies lick their lips in the dark, watching.

“Let her in.” I wave a lazy hand.

Within moments, Bella rushes in. She is chief consort of my harem, the one I elevated to bring some semblance of order among the jealous females clawing for my attention.

She is draped in the silks and jewels that mark her station—anklets that chime with each step, golden chains across her bare stomach, her long skirt flowing like smoke. In Basgiath, our women do not dress as the humans do. Here, they flaunt what is theirs to offer—bare bellies, scarves tied just above the hips, scented oils and heavy perfumes that cling to their skin.

All designed to please me.

“Your Majesty!” Bella curtsies low.

“What is it? You know the rules—you’re not permitted to disturb me during my work hours. You’re not new here.”

Her lips tremble. “Is it true? Is the new queen really… human?”

I’ve known Bella for over five years which means that expression on her face is all jealousy.

“Yes.” I reply.

“A human girl knows nothing of our culture. She is weak. How will she ever carry an heir for you, Your Majesty? Is she truly your mate? How could the moon goddess bond you to a human? It is impossible.”

“The Fanguards sniffed her and accepted her before my eyes. Culture, bloodline, foreign or not, she is mine.” My gaze pins Bella where she stands. She lowers her head and nods.

The Fanguards are guardian wolves that protect Basgiath’s forests and woods across millions of kilometres. They are capable of making howls that reach us from long distances, to warn us and alert us of any form of attack.

When they surrounded Akemi, she trembled like prey. Any human would. I knew they wouldn’t harm her, but still… when I heard her heart pounding in my ears, I had to call them off.

Because as much as she is human, I am still her mate. And a mate protects.

“But a human—”

“You know better than to question me.” I remind Bella that I am King before she says another thing.

So, she snaps her mouth shut and nods.

“Brother?” Susana, my half-sister, joins as if this is a family gathering. “Akemi’s brothers have arrived to collect the bride price.”

“Since the Luna is new, why don’t Bella and Susana give her a grand tour of the castle? Let her become familiar with our ways. Everything must feel foreign to her, being human.” Ozaiah suggests.

For once today, that is the first thing anyone has said that makes sense. Well, aside from watching Akemi sleep this morning—that made sense too, in a way I cannot explain.

She took up such a small space on the bed, curled like a creature too delicate for my world. Her scent was human, yet—sweet, vanilla, powdered musk and creamy sandalwood, it was grounding.

Her nose, small.

Her hands lithe and light. When I measured them against mine, mine swallowed hers whole, five times over. Her legs, her frame… all so slight, like she was made for softness.

And here I am, wondering how a man like me—rough, battle-hardened, built to conquer—can handle something so fragile without breaking it.

“Yes,” I say at last. “Go give her a tour of the castle.”

I look at Ozaiah. “And prepare yourself to teach her our laws, our customs and her duties as Luna after the coronation.”

Then I shift my gaze to the gamma fang. “As for you, bring in her brothers. I want to speak with them.”