Chapter 6 - THE MORNING AFTER THE STORM
The morning sun filtered through the high frost-patterned windows of the lodge, casting long golden beams across the heavy fur rugs on the bedroom floor.
Vivian woke slowly, enveloped in a warmth she had never experienced before. Strong, corded arms were wrapped securely around her waist, anchoring her against a solid, heated chest. She turned her head slightly and found Declan sleeping beside her—or at least, as close to deep, untroubled sleep as an Alpha King ever managed. The deep furrow between his brows was gone, replaced by an expression of absolute peace.
She lay very still, watching the steady rise and fall of his broad chest, tracing the faint outline of a scar near his collarbone with her fingertips.
"If you keep doing that, I won't be able to pretend I'm asleep," a deep, gravelly morning voice rumbled against her hair.
Vivian blushed, her hand pausing. "I didn't mean to wake you."
Declan’s eyes opened, flashing a brilliant, amused blue-gray in the morning light. Without warning, his arms tightened, rolling her effortlessly onto her back beneath him while he propped himself up on one elbow, towering over her with a lopsided, devastatingly handsome smile.
"Who said I wanted to sleep?" he murmured, leaning down to press a warm, lingering kiss to her neck, right where her pulse thrummed frantically.
Vivian gasped, her fingers tangling in his thick brown hair. "Declan... we have to talk about what happens when we return to Ashthorn."
Declan paused, his lips hovering an inch from hers. The playful light in his eyes dimmed slightly, replaced by the hard, unyielding steel of the king. "Nothing changes. When we return, I will announce our bond before the entire council."
"They will tear you apart," Vivian whispered urgently. "The northern packs will challenge your rule. You cannot just force an omega healer onto the throne without civil war!"
"Let them try," Declan growled, his voice dropping an octave as his alpha dominance flared defensively. "For ten years, I have bled for those packs. I have secured their borders, settled their feuds, and kept them safe from rogue incursions. If they believe a bloodline matters more than a true bond, they will learn very quickly how terrifying an angry alpha can be."
He pressed his forehead against hers, his breath warm against her skin. "I am not letting you go, Vivian. Not for a council, not for tradition, and not for a crown."
Before she could answer, a sharp, metallic sound shattered the quiet morning air.
It wasn't the wind. It was the heavy bronze alarm bell chiming from the watchtower attached to the back of the lodge.
Declan’s body went completely rigid in a microsecond. The relaxed, peaceful man vanished, replaced instantly by the apex predator. He rolled off the bed with fluid, terrifying speed, grabbing his trousers and pulling them on with lethal efficiency.
"Stay here," he ordered, his voice laced with absolute command.
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"Declan, what is it?" Vivian asked, sitting up and clutching the fur blanket to her chest.
"We’ve been tracked," he muttered, his jaw clenched so tightly a muscle ticked in his cheek. He strapped a heavy silver-hilted dagger to his thigh. "The council didn't just let us leave. They sent a message."
