80: Emma

Our bodies lay entwined in the aftermath, my skin slick against his, both of us breathing in that heavy, satisfied way that comes after pleasure crests and breaks. The silk sheets beneath us had twisted into a nest of fabric, warm from our exertions. In the quiet darkness of his chambers—our chambers now, I supposed—I traced idle patterns across the smooth plane of Theo's chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath my fingertips. Artemis prowled excitedly through my thoughts, a restless energy that contrasted with my languid contentment.

‘Ask him. Ask him now. You want it. WE want it.’ My wolf's voice echoed in my mind, persistent and eager.

‘Patience,’ I chided silently, but I couldn't deny that she was right. The question had been hovering on the edges of my consciousness for days now, growing more insistent each time Theo and I came together like this. I tilted my chin up, studying the sharp line of his jaw, the satisfied curve of his lips. My king. My mate—in all ways but one.

The moonlight filtering through the tall windows painted silver patterns across his skin, illuminating him in a way that made something catch in my throat. One week. I'd known him for only one week, yet it felt like my soul had recognized his from the first moment.

"Theo..." I began, my voice hushed in the stillness of the night. His fingers, which had been tracing lazy circles on my bare shoulder, paused. "What happens when a Lycan marks a werewolf?"

His body tensed beneath mine. The steady rhythm of his breathing faltered for just a moment—so brief I might have missed it if we hadn't been pressed together from chest to toe. His amber eyes, now ringed with a hint of that otherworldly purple-blue of his Lycan form, found mine.

"Why do you ask, little wolf?" His voice was carefully measured, but I could feel the sudden alertness in his body.

I shrugged, a gesture made awkward by our entangled position. "I'm curious. And Artemis is... interested."

‘More than interested. DESPERATE,’ my wolf corrected, and I had to suppress a smile.

Theo shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to better look at me. His gaze was searching, cautious. "They gain some Lycan traits," he finally said, each word deliberate. "It's not a true change—they don't become Lycans themselves, but there are... enhancements."

"What kind of enhancements?" I pressed, moving my palm to rest over his heart.

He caught my hand in his, bringing it to his lips for a brief kiss before continuing. "Strength, for one. Speed. The ability to heal faster." His thumb stroked over my knuckles, a gentle back and forth that seemed unconscious. "The longer lifespan."

That caught my attention. "How much longer?"

"It varies. But typically, a marked werewolf lives as long as their Lycan mate." His eyes never left mine as he continued. "A couple of times in history, their wolf form has even become bipedal, but that's rare. Usually, they retain their four-legged form, just... enhanced."

I nodded slowly, absorbing this information. The implications swirled through my mind—centuries with Theo rather than decades. The thought sent an unexpected warmth through me.

"But..." he hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly. "I don't know if that's different for a royal mated pair. There's no recorded history of the ruling monarch having a werewolf mate, at least not that I can find in the archives."

I felt a flutter of something like pride at that—at being the first, at breaking this particular boundary along with all the others we were shattering together.

"There's no rush, Emma," he added softly, his hand cupping my cheek. "We don't have to do this anytime soon. We have time."

Artemis whined anxiously at his words, pushing against the edges of my consciousness with insistent pressure. I swallowed hard, gathering my courage.

"I want to," I said, the words coming out in a rush. "I want you to mark me.”

His eyes widened fractionally. "Emma—"

"The only reason I was able to fight off Benjamin's mark—the only reason Artemis and I could resist it—is because..." I paused, feeling heat rise to my cheeks despite our current naked state. "Because I want yours. Because we want yours."

Theo's expression softened, but concern still lingered in the tightness around his eyes. "You've been through so much," he said, his voice low. "I don't want to push you too fast, to make you uncomfortable. Marking isn't just physical—it's a connection that goes deeper than flesh."

"I know that," I asked, a hint of challenge in my voice. I shifted, pushing myself up to better face him. The sheet fell away from my body, but I made no move to retrieve it. "I'm ready, Theo. I want this. I need this."

The air between us grew heavy with something more potent than desire—potential, perhaps. The weight of a decision that would alter everything.

His eyes searched mine, looking for any sign of hesitation, any flicker of doubt. I held his gaze steadily, letting him see the certainty I felt. Finally, he cupped my face between his hands, his touch reverent.

"As soon as we do this, your coronation becomes just a formality, Emma," he said, his voice solemn. "In every single way that matters, you'll be their Queen, my Queen. Your coronation will just be pomp and circumstance."

I took a deep breath, my chest expanding against his. "I know," I nodded. "I might still be getting used to the idea of being queen, but I'm sure I want you. I need you."

Something shifted in his expression then, a spark igniting behind his eyes. "Well then," he said, his voice dropping to a register that sent shivers down my spine, "I've got one condition for you."

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite myself. "Oh?"