7. Prepare Her

A few days later…

Althea’s lashes fluttered slowly as her world appeared hazy, spinning, muffled, and distant at first. A groan slipped from her lips as her fingers twitched against the soft sheets.

“Althea!” The voice cut through like sunlight piercing fog. Melva only used her first name when she was deeply worried or furious.

Althea flinched. “W-What... happened?”

“You were poisoned,” Melva gasped, pulling back. “You collapsed in the Alpha King’s arms. We thought... We feared we had lost you, My Lady.”

Her heart beat heavily and slowly. Memories flooded in - the wine, Gavriel’s voice, his eyes, the kiss, and then darkness.

“How long?” she croaked.

“You’ve been unconscious for three days,” Melva said. “We’ve also been traveling for two days now. The Alpha King ordered your chambers dismantled and took you with him to the capital. We’re heading to the Royal Estate, his estate.”

Her lips quivered. “Why did he... save me?" 

Melva bit her lip and muttered, “He marked you.”

Althea’s eyes widened. “What?!”

“When the poison started to shut down your body, he panicked. He marked you to transfer his Lycan essence into your system. It was the only way to neutralize the toxin in time,” Melva explained.

Althea gently placed her hand on her shoulder at the junction where her neck meets the collarbone. Under her fingertips, she could feel the wound, subtle yet unmistakable.

She whispered, "He marked me,” her mind racing. "Did he really choose to mark me?” she questioned again, still couldn't believe it.

Melva nodded quickly. “And you’ve been under heavy guard since. He didn’t let anyone touch you except for the healer and me.”

The caravan slowed down. Voices outside called orders, and tents rustled as warriors began setting up for the night. 

Melva carefully assisted Althea in getting up. “Let’s get you some fresh air, My Lady. You’ve been confined for days.”

Althea carefully stepped out of the caravan, her muscles tense yet thankful for the stretch. 

Across the clearing, surrounded by the dimming glow of firelight, stood Gavriel. His eyes were locked onto her - steady, unreadable, intense. 

As usual, she couldn’t penetrate his mind. Then, gradually, he began walking toward her.

“How are you feeling?” Gavriel asked, his voice steady but gentle.

Althea straightened, clutching her cloak more tightly. “Better.”

He observed her for a moment longer, his face showing no emotion. Then he shifted his gaze to Melva. “She stays with me tonight. Prepare her in my tent.”

And just like that, he turned and strode back into the heart of the camp.

Althea’s stomach twisted as she watched Gavriel walk away. His words echoed in her ears. ‘She stays with me tonight.’

She took a deep breath. The idea of the Alpha King finally claiming her tonight made her nervous. It was bound to happen eventually, but now that it might be tonight, she wasn’t sure if she was ready.

Melva slipped an arm around her and quietly guided her back to the Alpha King’s tent. Once inside, she made sure Althea ate something first, pushing a warm plate toward her until she finished at least half of it. 

After that, Melva moved with quiet urgency, gathering clothes, checking supplies, and preparing Althea for what was coming next.

“Just… make sure to please him, My Lady,” Melva whispered, gently combing through Althea’s long hair. “I mean, do what he wants, but try to take some control. That’s what I’ve heard… if you can guide things a bit, it won’t be so bad.”

Althea stayed quiet, listening.

“It’ll hurt at first,” Melva continued, her voice low, “since it’s your first time. But they say it gets easier after. You just have to bear with it. Remember, he marked you. That’s your leverage now. The Mate Bond is strong. Even if the Alpha King despises your bloodline… he won’t be able to harm you.”

Althea turned to her with a small, reassuring smile and took her hand.

“Don’t worry too much, Melva,” she said softly. “I’ll be fine.”

Just as Melva placed the final pin in Althea’s hair, the tent flap lifted. Gavriel stepped inside.

Melva quickly stood and lowered her head. “Your Majesty-”

“You’re dismissed,” Gavriel said flatly, not sparing her a glance.

Melva dipped into a low bow before slipping out of the tent.

Gavriel removed his cloak and placed it over the small table beside the bed. Then, without looking at her, he spoke again.

“I’ll take a bath.”

Her stomach tightened.

He turned to face her, his eyes sharp beneath the flickering light of the tent’s lanterns. 

“Undress me.”

The words weren’t a request; they were a command.

Althea’s heart thudded wildly against her chest as she stepped closer, closing the distance between them. Her hands hovered for a second before she reached up and began to undo the clasps on his armor. One by one, she removed the outer layers, careful with every motion.

When her fingers brushed his skin by accident, she felt the heat of him. 

His chest rose and fell steadily, and the heat radiating from him made her feel like her skin was burning just by being close.

He didn’t speak, didn’t blink. He just watched her.

Her fingers fumbled slightly as she tugged at the last piece of his tunic. It slid and dropped to the ground, and Althea sucked in a quiet breath. 

She didn’t mean to look, but her eyes betrayed her. They flicked down over the broad plane of his chest, the defined lines of his abs, and the way his powerful body seemed to hum with restrained strength.

Gavriel tilted his head slightly, catching her stare. "See something you like?"

Her cheeks flamed instantly. “No,” she muttered, dropping her eyes and stepping back.

His lips curved, just barely. Not a smile. More like amusement with a hint of danger. “Lying to your king, Althea?”

She opened her mouth to reply, but no sound came out. He stepped forward, closing the space she’d just created. His hand lifted slowly, deliberately, and trailed a knuckle along her jaw. 

“I told you,” he murmured, voice deep and quiet, “your life is mine now.”

Then he stepped past her, walking to the small bath behind the divider in the tent.

“Bring me the towel,” he called without turning.

Althea grabbed the folded towel from the table. Her hands were trembling, but she didn’t dare disobey.

As she approached, she saw him already submerged waist-deep in the steaming water, his back facing her. The muscles in his back flexed slightly as he leaned forward, arms resting on the edge of the tub.

She set the towel down on the nearby stand.

“Come closer.”

Her feet moved before she could second-guess it. She stopped just behind him, heart in her throat.

Gavriel glanced over his shoulder. “Join me.”

Althea swallowed hard. “I… I didn’t think-”

“You’re mine now,” he cut her off, voice low. “You don’t get to hide anymore.” Then, in a tone darker than before, he added, “Undress.”

Althea’s hand trembled slightly as she reached for the first tie on her dress. If she wanted to survive, she had to please the Alpha King, no matter what it cost her. 

Her heart pounded in her chest as she remembered what Melva had told her… how the Alpha King didn’t even blink when he killed Lady Cara.

Lady Cara, a noble-born and well-respected warrior, had begged for her life. Yet Gavriel ended it without hesitation.

That was the kind of man Althea was bound to now.

She could feel the mate bond tightening between them again, drawing her in, messing with her thoughts and her body. Something in her blood stirred beneath her skin, even if she had no wolf. The pull was undeniable.

Althea closed her eyes for a moment, drawing in a shaky breath before continuing to undress, knowing that once the last layer fell, there would be no more room for hesitation.

“Come here,” he said, voice low and rough.

Her heart pounded so loudly, she wondered if he could hear it. Still, she stepped forward, her bare feet silent on the floor. As soon as she was close enough, his hand reached out, firm, possessive, and he pulled her into the warm water.

She gasped, not from the temperature, but from the sudden feel of his body, solid and strong against hers. His hand settled at her back, holding her in place as the water sloshed gently around them.

“Sit,” he murmured, his lips brushing her temple. “On me.”