UNPLANNED REBIRTH: MARRIED TO MY STEPSON

Chapter Nine — The Wolf’s Claim

I had no intention of walking into the gardens that evening.

But something in me refused to stay in the great hall, where the wine stank and the courtiers laughed too loudly at my father’s empty boasts. My feet carried me elsewhere, restless, circling stone corridors that had caged my youth. The fortress still knew me—every shadowed stairwell, every crack in the walls where a boy once pressed his fists and vowed to outlive his father.

The air outside was sharp with frost, the hedges rimmed with white. Moonlight clung to the wilted roses, their heads bowed under winter’s weight. It should have been quiet. It should have been mine.

Instead, I heard it—gasps, sharp and sudden, followed by the clatter of glass striking stone.

I rounded the corner. And my world narrowed to one sight.

Selene.

Her body folding, knees buckling, eyes glazed. The goblet had slipped from her fingers, wine spilling like blood across the stones. Before she struck the ground, another man caught her—Dorian Vale, my father’s watchdog, his arms around her as though he had the right.

The bond snapped taut inside me, hard and fast as lightning. The heat of it seared through my ribs, furious, possessive.

A growl ripped from my throat before I knew it. “Put her down.”

Dorian’s head snapped up. His face was tight, eyes narrowed. He held her closer, as if daring me to try. “She’s poisoned. I won’t drop her like some burden.”

“She’s not yours to hold,” I said, my voice like a blade.

The weight of Selene against him—her pale cheek pressed to his shoulder, her hair spilling like dark silk over his arm—made my vision swim with rage. Every instinct in me howled to tear her from him.

Dorian’s jaw clenched. “I was carrying her to safety. You weren’t here.”

I stepped forward until we were nose to nose, wolves circling the same wound. “I’m here now.”

His eyes locked on mine. A challenge. A warning. A promise.

Selene stirred faintly, a whisper spilling from her lips. “Kael…”

Her voice was thready, but it was enough. I reached for her. Dorian hesitated, and in that hesitation, I ripped her from his arms.

The moment her weight settled into me, the bond flared. My muscles tightened instinctively, pulling her close. Her head fell against my shoulder, her shallow breath warm against my neck. My heart stuttered in a way it hadn’t since boyhood.

Her scent clung to me—smoke, steel, the faint glimmer of silver—and I realized I had been starving for it since the first time I caught it on the pyre.

I turned to Dorian, my grip around her firm. “Proper of me, isn’t it?” My smile was sharp, mocking. “A dutiful stepson, making sure his father’s Luna returns unharmed.”

Dorian’s nostrils flared. “You mock the title, but you speak as though she’s yours.”

I met his gaze with ice. “Maybe that’s because she is.”

His hand twitched toward his sword, then stilled. Silence pressed hard between us, broken only by Selene’s faint breaths against my collar.

I pushed past him without another word, carrying her through the stone corridors. Every step I took was a battle—not against my father, but against myself. The part of me that wanted to claim her openly, that wanted to rip down walls and howl the truth, was a beast I could not afford to unleash.

Not yet.

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Her chamber was warm with firelight. I laid her gently on the bed, brushing her hair back from her face. Her lashes trembled. Her lips parted.

“Stay with me,” I muttered, the words escaping before I could stop them. “Don’t close your eyes.”

She shifted weakly, whispering, “You sound… worried.”

My throat closed. I straightened, hardening my tone into steel. “Don’t mistake concern for sentiment. If you die, my father wins another game. I won’t allow that.”

But my hand lingered against hers, traitorous, reluctant to let go.

I snapped my gaze toward the doorway. “Fetch the witch.”

Dorian, who had followed, stiffened, but turned and strode off, boots striking stone. He didn’t look back.

When the witch arrived, his robes whispered over the floor, the crystal pulsing faintly in his hands. His dark eyes flicked between me and Selene, reading far more than I wanted him to. He bowed low.

“She has swallowed venom,” I said curtly. “Do what you must.”

The witch’s fingers traced Selene’s pulse with uncanny calm. He murmured words that filled the room like smoke, pulling vials and herbs from his satchel. As he worked, I stood by the window, fists tight behind my back.

The sight of her on that bed, pale and weakened, burned into me worse than any blade. She had walked straight into Veyra’s trap. Why? Why hadn’t she fought? Why hadn’t she listened?

Because she isn’t naïve, the bond whispered. Because she’s playing her own game.

The witch pressed a vial to her lips. She swallowed, her throat moving faintly, and color began to return to her cheeks. Relief hit me like a spear.

I turned away before anyone could see it.

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I could not stay. Not here, not with her. Every moment stretched the bond tighter, every breath made me want to do something reckless, something irrevocable. She was my father’s Luna in name. For me, she should have been untouchable.

And yet when Dorian carried her, I had nearly torn him apart.

I had wars to fight, a throne to steal, a tyrant to overthrow. I could not let her undo me.

Still… as I reached the door, my voice betrayed me.

“Stay alive,” I said softly, almost to myself. Then louder, harsher: “That’s an order.”

I faced the witch. “Keep her safe until I return. I have business that won’t wait.”

Business. That was the excuse. A rebellion does not pause, even for a poisoned Luna. But as I left the chamber, cloak snapping behind me, I knew the truth.

It wasn’t only Malrik I stayed to fight.

It was her.

The bond.

The part of me that already claimed Selene as mine—long before I had the right.

And every step I took away from her felt like losing.

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