The throne room had never felt so small.
Rina stood at its center, her beauty twisted into something feral and frightening, golden hair whipping around her face as if stirred by an invisible wind. Behind her, a retinue of wolf beast men shifted uneasily, sensing their mistress’s mood but loyal to a fault.
"You have spited me for the last time!" Her voice cracked like thunder, echoing off stone walls. Amber eyes, venomous and wild, darted from Ravin to Leon, then finally to me, where they lingered with murderous intent. "You clan less bitch! Not only did you take my Ravin, but you had the audacity to steal little Leon too?"
The words hung in the air, rancid and spoiled.
I felt Ravin’s hand find the small of my back, his thumb tracing circles of reassurance. On my other side, Leon shifted closer, his shoulder brushing mine. Their presence gave me courage I didn’t know I possessed.
"I assure you," I said, my voice steadier than I felt, "it was mutual. The brothers chose me. I didn’t steal anything that wasn’t freely given."
Rina’s nostrils flared. "You..." The word was barely a whisper, yet it carried the weight of a thousand curses. "You insignificant, clan less, nameless..."
"Enough." Ravin’s voice cut through her tirade like a blade. "There is nothing you can do, Rina. We are mated. Bonded." He touched the invisible ring at his neck, and I saw her eyes follow the gesture, saw the hunger there turn to dust. "It’s done."
"Just give up," Leon added, his voice softer but no less firm. "Find someone who actually wants you. It won’t be me."
Rina looked between them, her golden prince and the dark prince, both standing with me between them like a fortress wall. Something in her face cracked. Not defeat, exactly, but something colder. Calculating.
"This isn’t over," she said, and the words felt like ice sliding down my spine. She turned on her heel, her entourage scrambling to follow, but at the entrance she paused. Looked back. "Enjoy your victory, female. It will be brief."
Then she was gone, and the room exhaled.
"Are you okay?" Ravin asked immediately, his hands finding my shoulders, turning me to face him. His eyes searched mine with frantic intensity.
"I’m fine," I said, though my knees were trembling. "Just exhausted."
"Would you like to rest?" Leon’s voice came from my other side, gentle as a breeze.
"Yeah," I breathed. "That would be great."
---
Life, I discovered, had a way of establishing rhythm even in the most chaotic circumstances.
Days passed. Weeks, perhaps. It was hard to tell without calendars; without the familiar markers of time I had known. The moon rose and set, rose and set, and slowly I learned the patterns of my new existence.
Ravin hunted. He would leave at dawn, returning with game slung over his shoulder, his chest heaving, his eyes lighting up when he found me waiting. He never failed to bring me something, a flower that grew only on the eastern cliffs, a pretty stone he thought matched my eyes, a piece of honeycomb wrapped in leaves.
Leon stayed. When his brother was away, he became my shadow, my companion, my friend. He never pressed for more than I could give, never made me feel guilty for the bond that existed between his brother and me, yet his eyes followed me with a warmth that made my chest ache. He was kind. Patient. Everything a mate should be, and I couldn’t love him the way he deserved.
Not yet anyway. Perhaps not ever.
I was sitting by the fire, re-lacing a loose strip of sinew on Ravin’s leather chest wrap, when I felt it. A cramp, low and familiar, followed by the telltale warmth between my thighs.
Oh no.
I stood carefully, my hand going to my abdomen. Three weeks since I’d arrived. Three weeks since the blue bind had wrapped around my wrist. And now my body was reminding me that some things transcended worlds.
I needed supplies. Pads. Anything.
But I had nothing. Just the furs on my back, the few items in my bag, my phone, my wallet, my useless keys.
"Hey Krys," Leon called from the entrance, his voice bright. "Are you ready for your bath? I’ll get everything prepared."
"Wait!" I said, too sharply.
He froze, his ears twitching. "What’s wrong?"
I opened my mouth to lie, to say I was tired, to send him away. But then I saw the genuine concern in his eyes, the way his tail had stopped its happy sway, and something in me crumbled.
"I need help," I admitted, my voice small. "I started my... my cycle. And I don’t have anything. No pads, no tampons, no..." I gestured helplessly at my lower body. "I don’t know what to do."
Leon blinked. Then his nostrils flared, scenting the air, and understanding dawned across his face. He didn’t recoil. Didn’t look disgusted. Instead, he looked... intrigued?
"You smell..." He paused, searching for words. "Different. Richer. Like earth after rain." He shook his head, as if clearing it. "I’ll get my mother."
"Leon, wait..."
But he was already gone, darting out of the room with a speed that left me staring after him, my embarrassment complete.
Great. Now the whole family knows.
---
Lisa arrived with the warmth of a summer storm, sweeping into the room with bundles of dried cattail heads and softened hide squares, an expression of delighted satisfaction on her face that made me want to hide.
"Started your cycle, have you?" she chirped, as if discussing the weather. "That’s wonderful news! It means your body is ready. You could bear cubs soon!"
I managed a strangled laugh. "Not... not happening anytime soon."
"The fluff absorbs, the hide protects, and the cords keep everything in place. Easy to clean, easy to reuse. Leon said something foreign that you needed, but we don’t have that here."
I stared at the materials, trying to figure out how it worked.
Lisa noticed my confusion. "Didn’t your mother show you?"
"Everything was... prepared for me," I said carefully, not quite lying. "I never had to think about it."
"Oh, you poor dear." She gathered me into a hug that smelled of herbs and maternal warmth. "Coddled, were you? Well, no matter. You’re family now, and I’ll teach you."
She helped me tie the leather cords around my hips, adjusting the hide squares until they sat comfortably against my body. The cattail fluff was surprisingly soft, like down feathers, and far more absorbent than I expected.
"There," she said, stepping back to admire her work. "How does that feel?"
"Good," I admitted. "Thank you, Lisa."
She cupped my cheek, her thumb brushing away a tear I hadn’t realized I’d shed. "What’s this? Why are you crying, little one?"
And then it hit me. The kindness. The maternal warmth. The way she said "family" like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"I miss my mother," I whispered, the truth slipping out. "My family. They’re gone now. I’ll never see them again."
The sob that followed was ugly, wrenching, torn from somewhere deep in my chest. Lisa didn’t hesitate. She pulled me into her arms, holding me as I cried, stroking my hair, murmuring nonsense sounds that needed no translation.
When I finally quieted, hiccupping against her shoulder, she pulled back and wiped my face with the edge of her fur wrap.
"You have a family here now," she said firmly. "It may not be the one you were born to, but it is yours. We are yours. Do you understand?"
I nodded, unable to speak.
"Good." She kissed my forehead. "Now, rest. Ravin will be back soon, and I suspect he’ll want to know why you’ve been crying."
She left me alone, and I lay back against the furs, emotionally wrung out but strangely lighter.
---
Ravin returned as the sun was setting, his hair damp from the stream, his skin glowing golden in the firelight. He looked like a dream. Like a myth. Like something I had invented to save myself from loneliness.
"You’re smiling," he said, his own face breaking into a grin. "Seeing you smile makes me feel like I could conquer mountains."
I stood on my toes and kissed his chin, then his jaw, then, when he bent to meet me, his mouth. It was meant to be brief, a thank you, a greeting. But he caught me, his arms banding around my waist, and deepened it, his tongue sweeping inside, tasting, claiming.
"You smell so good," he growled against my lips, his hands sliding down to cup my hips. "So..."
He froze. Pulled back. His nostrils flared, and understanding dawned in his eyes.
"Your cycle," he said, his voice rough. "It’s... you’re..."
"Just started," I confirmed, my cheeks heating. "Your mother helped me."
His face transformed, not with disappointment, but with something like wonder. Joy. His eyes lit up, golden and glowing, his grip tightening on my waist.
"Truly?" he breathed, his voice hushed and reverent. "You can, you’re able to..." He broke off, pressing his forehead to mine, a laugh rumbling through his chest. "This means you can bear my cubs. You’re fertile, Krys. Your body is ready to create life."
I blinked at him, surprised by his enthusiasm. "I... yes, I suppose so. But we can’t. Not while I’m bleeding. We have to wait."
"Of course," he said quickly, though his excitement barely dimmed. "However long it takes. But knowing that you can, that your body is capable... even if I have to wait until you’re ready." He kissed me fiercely, his hands framing my face.
I caught his wrist, turning my face into his palm. "Five days," I whispered. "Maybe seven. And then..." I hesitated, my heart hammering against my ribs. "And then, if you’re patient with me, we can try. Properly. Fully. Not just for cubs, Ravin. For us."
His pupils blew wide, black swallowing gold. "Truly?"
"Truly," I promised. "But I need you to understand. I’ve never... the only man I was with before..." I couldn’t finish; the memory of Hyunwoo’s clumsy, selfish touch made my stomach turn. "I need you to be gentle. To go slow."
"Always," he breathed, his forehead resting against mine. "Anything for you. Everything for you. I’ll be patient, Krys. I’ll be whatever you need."
---
The five days that followed were unlike anything I had experienced.
Ravin and Leon, my two princes, my devoted shadows, transformed into something between bodyguards and servants, determined to make my confinement as comfortable as possible.
They brought me food. Gods, the food they brought.
Ravin hunted specifically for the things I craved, even when I could barely describe them. When I mentioned missing the tangy sweetness of oranges, fruit that didn’t exist in this world, he returned with something close: a small, tart citrus that grew in the southern valleys, its juice sharp and bright on my tongue. When I woke at midnight with a hunger for something rich and savory, Leon returning with slow-roasted vegetable that looks and taste like potatoes and chunks of fire-cooked venison.
They wouldn’t let me lift a finger.
"Rest," Ravin would command, gently pushing me back onto the furs when I tried to help with the fire.
"Let us," Leon would add, pressing warm tea into my hands, his dark eyes soft with concern.
They drew my baths, heating the water to exactly the right temperature, turning away with flushed cheeks when I removed my wraps but staying close enough to help me in and out of the tub when my cramps made me unsteady. They rubbed my lower back when the pain came, their strong hands working magic on muscles that had knotted tight, learning exactly where to press, where to soothe.
On the third day, when the cramps were worst and my mood had turned sour, they simply held me. Ravin at my front, his golden head resting against my shoulder, his large hand splayed protectively over my womb as if he could absorb the pain himself. Behind me, Leon pressed close, his chest a warm wall, his arms crossed over my waist, his tail wrapping around my ankle in a silent vow of presence.
I could feel the tension in him, the way he held himself carefully, not wanting to overstep. He was trying so hard to be useful, to be wanted, even as he stood in his brother’s shadow. His thumb traced slow circles against my hip bone, tentative and gentle, asking without words if this was allowed.
"Thank you," I whispered, reaching back to find his hand. His fingers laced with mine immediately, grateful, desperate to be needed.
Sandwiched between them, surrounded by their warmth and their care, Ravin’s fierce, possessive devotion and Leon’s quiet, hopeful patience, I felt safe. I felt loved. I felt like I never wanted to leave.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked on the fourth day, watching Ravin carefully peel the skin from a roasted root vegetable, his concentration adorable and unnecessary.
He looked up, confused. "Doing what?"
"All of this. The food, the care, the..." I gestured vaguely at the nest of furs they’d built for me, at the tea Leon was brewing, at the way they both hovered like I might break. "You don’t have to. I’m not... I’m not that fragile."
Ravin set down the food and came to me, kneeling so we were eye to eye. "You’re my mate," he said simply. "And you’re bleeding, which means your body is preparing itself to bear my cubs. In our world, this is sacred. A time of potential. Of promise." He took my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. "I would bring you the moon if I could pluck it from the sky. This is nothing."
"Besides," Leon added from across the room, his smile teasing but his eyes sincere, "you’re much nicer when you’re well-fed. Less likely to bite."
I threw the stuffed pelt I’d made at him, the one I filled with soft cotton from the silk trees near the stream, my first attempt at making something useful in this world. He caught it, laughing.
---
On the morning of the sixth day, I woke to silence.
The cramps were gone. The bleeding had stopped. The heaviness, the lethargy, the vague ache that had accompanied my cycle, all vanished, leaving me feeling light, renewed, strangely electric.
I sat up, pushing back the furs, and found Ravin watching me from across the room.
He sat by the fire, ostensibly tending it, but his eyes had been fixed on me. His expression was unreadable, tense, hopeful, trying desperately to appear casual and failing utterly.
"You’re awake," he said, his voice slightly hoarse.
"I am." I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, testing my body, finding it responsive and eager. "Ravin..."
He stood, moving toward me with the careful deliberation of a predator approaching prey. "Yes?"
"It’s over." I looked up at him, meeting those golden eyes, feeling my own heat rising to match the fire I saw there. "My cycle. It’s finished."
He went very still. "And... and what about what you said? About trying? About being together?" His hands trembled slightly at his sides, the only crack in his composure. "Did you mean it? Do you still...?"
"I meant it," I whispered, standing, closing the distance between us. I placed my hand on his chest, feeling his heart hammer against my palm. "If you still want me. If you’re still willing to be patient, to let me lead, to go at my pace..."
He caught me up in my arms, lifting me off my feet, burying his face in my neck. "Yes," he groaned, the word vibrating through his chest into mine. "Yes, Krys. I’ve wanted nothing else. I’ve dreamed of nothing else. To be inside you, to make you mine completely..." He pulled back, his eyes wet, his expression raw. "But only if you’re certain. Only if you’re ready. I can wait longer. I can wait forever."
I cupped his face, my thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, feeling the tremor in his jaw. "I’m ready," I said, and meant it. "Tonight. After the feast. Come to me. Let me show you what it means to be truly intimate. Not just rutting, Ravin. Not just mating. But love."
He kissed me then, deep and desperate and grateful, a promise and a plea all at once. When he finally set me down, we were both breathless, both trembling, both burning with anticipation for the night to come.
"Tonight," he repeated, his voice rough with desire. "I’ll be counting every moment until then."
"So will I," I promised.
And as we separated, him to hunt, to prepare, to burn off nervous energy; me to bathe, to ready myself, to anticipate, I felt, for the first time since I had died, truly, completely, irrevocably alive and ready for whatever it is to come.