CHAPTER 70: RAW

Magnus

The forest swallows her whole.

I tear through the trees, a blur of muscle and panic, her scent guiding me like a noose wrapped tight around my neck. It has shifted—no longer soft or sweet like it usually is. Now it clings to the air, sharp and intoxicating, dizzying in the worst way. She is in heat. She is definitely in heat.

But how?

Someone must have done this to her.

I knew it the moment I saw her stumbling out of the banquet hall; I knew it the moment her scent flowed from her like honey and gold.

The way her eyes were glazed, lips parted, body trembling as though she couldn’t stand being inside her own skin.

And then that flash of pure devastation—when she saw me lock eyes with her. It hit her like a blade between the ribs. I could see it. I could feel it. I could smell it.

And now she is alone. In this goddamn forest. Drenched in pheromones. Vulnerable. Weak. Confused. Frightened.

Faster

, my wolf snarls at me, clawing inside my chest.

I grit my teeth and follow the trail of her heat-slicked scent until I hear something—a rustle, a whimper. My heart slams.

I skid to a stop behind a dense wall of branches just in time to see her. Kaya is on the ground, one arm clutching her chest, the other trying to push away a man looming over her.

Who the fuck is that?! My wolf is livid now, pushing my instincts to the limit with his boiling rage.

He isn’t from our pack. I don’t recognize him. But I don’t need to.

Her eyes are pleading. Blurred. She is too weak to fight him off, her heat making her body betray her. And the bastard is already reaching for her hips, salivating like a fucking dog.

Everything inside me explodes at once.

A roar rips from my throat as I lose my sanity. The man barely has time to turn before my fist meets his jaw with a sickening crunch. He collapses onto his back, and I am on him in an instant, teeth bared, fists flying out of my control.

He grunts, tries to throw a punch, but I dodge it and slam my knee into his ribs. Once. Twice.

"I’ll kill you!" I hear my voice growling, slamming his head against the ground like it’s a fucking rock. "You. Can’t. Fucking. Touch her!"

Blood gushes from his nose. He tries to scramble away, but I catch him by the collar and punch again, hard enough to feel something crack.

It takes everything in me not to finish him. Not to shift and rip his throat out.

But then Kaya whimpers behind me.

That sound—helpless and full of shame—snaps my leash and pulls me out of my livid trance.

I let the man’s limp body drop to the forest floor, unconscious, and turn to her, chest heaving, blood boiling, threatening to melt me alive.

She is curled up, her breath shallow, skin flushed and glowing under the silver kiss of moonlight. Her dress is wrinkled now, drenched in sweat, tangled and torn around her thighs. Her pupils are blown wide, red lips parted and trembling.

When she looks at me, she looks like she is drowning.

"Magnus..." she whispers, reaching for me so desperately that I almost lose my mind again.

I kneel beside her instantly, ripping my shirt off to wrap it around her trembling, hot body. "Kaya... I’m here. You’re okay now. He didn’t—he didn’t get to—?"

I am terrified to hear the answer, but she only shakes her head weakly, and before my mind registers it, she is already crawling into my lap, desperate, needy, her hands gripping my shoulders, her body pressing into mine––hot and wet. Irresistible.

"I can’t take it," she breathes. "It hurts—everything hurts—make it stop. Please."

She is begging now, her voice cracking, hot tears rolling down her cheeks. Her whole body shakes. She rubs herself against my leg like she doesn’t even realize she is doing it, nails digging into my skin as she drags them across my chest.

My hands hover at her waist, afraid to touch her, afraid that if I gave her even a second of permission, I’d lose the war I was fighting against myself.

She is mine. My mate. My true mate. And every cell in my body screams to take her. To ease her pain. To bury myself inside her and let instinct take over.

But she isn’t herself. And I can’t do this to her. Not to someone like her.

"You’re not thinking straight," I barely manage to whisper, brushing a strand of damp hair from her flushed face. "You’ve been drugged. Someone did this to you."

Her eyes are glassy, foggy, yet they look like they can only see me. "I don’t care. Please, Magnus, I need—"

"No."

I catch her wrists gently and pull them away from my chest, even as my own body rebels like a rabid animal. My claws ache under my skin. My wolf howls in agony.

"I’m not going to claim you like this," I resist again, voice trembling. "I’m not going to be like my father. Or like the bastards who don’t give a shit who they fuck."

Tears well in her eyes. Her mouth opens and closes, desperate and pained, and I think she might scream. But instead, she presses her face into my neck, shaking like a leaf as her lips trace over my skin.

I am losing it. I feel her scent seeping into every single pore on my body, making me drunk on her mere existence.

So I do the only thing I can afford right now.

I kiss her.

Not out of desire—though there is plenty of that burning through me like wildfire—but because I need to anchor her. To give her something real, something grounding. Something that belongs only to us.

Her lips are fire. Sweet and trembling, tasting of salt and desperation. She kisses me back with everything she has—hungry, aching, pleading for release.

The kiss is violent. Passionate. Raw.

For one terrifying second, I nearly lose control completely. My hands sink into her hair, pulling her even closer to me. Her legs straddle my thighs, and her heat presses directly against my crotch, forcing my wolf to release another desperate howl that almost deafens me.

But then—just as I fear she would beg me again—she whimpers one last time, eyes rolling back, and collapses against me.

Unconscious.

I exhale in relief and catch her before she hits the ground.

I press her to my chest, breathing hard, every muscle in my body screaming from restraint.

Gently, I brush her damp hair back and rest my forehead against hers, allowing my fingers to get lost inside her silver locks.

"I’m sorry," is all I can whisper. "I’m so fucking sorry."

You had to do it, Athan tries to console me, but it’s not enough. I was weak, I made a mistake. Another mistake. It never fucking stops.