The tales told of a warrior who led the special forces of the Empire against the non-sentient monsters and Mutated on the northern end of the continent. Although the reports that Luna had heard from her tutors of what shape the continent was were mixed, they all agreed that there was a peninsula in the north connected to the edge of the Dwarves' land.
The problem was, Dwarven magic was much better at defense than offense, which led to them being the first race to begin to forge weapons.
That was after the humans, of course, who were at the forefront of every technological advancement, likely due to them not sharing research and trade with other races like most did, but that didn't matter, because in the early days their lack of magic made them the bottom of the totem pole regardless. That was before they had discovered iron.
The Dwarves were the second but easily the most skilled weaponsmiths, and they were also the first to call for the might of the Empire to defend them. By the time that the human army had arrived to help, the first and only act of their probation for resisting the Empire's armies until the last, the Dwarves' numbers were all but depleted.
After crushing everything they found, they returned to a proper welcome into the Empire, but it wasn't long before the monsters returned in full force. This time, they had the misfortune to be discovered by a roaming pack of Lycans, one of whom reported back to his father, the first Emperor, and was then assigned to lead a force that would constantly trim their numbers.
In the histories, he was called, not by his name, but by his title.
The Lord of the North.
That title, along with his name, was passed down to the firstborn son in each generation.
And that name...
She knew it now.
That name was Lukas Warwick.
The only Warwick who both didn't have to earn the name and could never be Emperor.
Something about that was changing. And Luna needed to figure it out.
She had two choices. Only one of them involved trusting the man who was currently holding her neck in a burning grip.
She decided to go with that one.
"You're the Lord of the North, aren't you?" Luna asked, gasping out the words. His grip tightened.
"Why yes, I am," Lukas responded in a hot, dark voice.
"Why are you here?" Luna pressed, hoping to get more information.
No such luck.
"I'm here for you, of course."
"You don't even know me."
"Luna, princess of Alaxia. Your father is the owner of what was the most powerful military force on the continent. And you are the owner of a scent that drives me wild."
It was insane. Insane. It didn't make any sense. Why would he choose her? Why would anyone choose her?
She didn't deserve it. After all, she was...
Luna flinched as he grabbed her hip possessively and pulled her back against himself.
"Please," she whimpered. She couldn't stop herself. She wasn't even sure what she was asking for at this point. It would be stupid for her to think that she was in control, and he had no reason to listen to her.
But he did anyway.
The second she said it, his hands tensed on her, but the rest of his body froze. He also seemed unsure what she was asking for, so he simply held her in place.
Luna could hear his chest heaving and the growl building in his throat, and she could feel him trembling. She was pressed back against him, her ass tightly fit against his crotch, and the heat that she felt was nearly unbearable.
She bit her lip, hoping to remain silent, but the moan came out anyway. Along with it, the strength she had managed to gather to resist fled her, and she was left once more helpless in his arms as he slowly drew her closer.
She shuddered once when his chest met her back, then her breathing aligned with his, like two puzzle pieces snapping together.
Together, they lay still. Luna so wished that she was capable of Empath magic. Her father had told her that to misuse magic was the most terrible thing you could do, and even with small amounts of force you could do something catastrophic, like killing someone. Luna had been sensitive to magic when she was younger, but it was less prominent now. She had never wanted to reach for it, for fear of hurting someone, something, or herself.
And now? Now was the worst time to start trying. The Lycan laying behind her was her sole lifeline currently. Without him, she was adrift in a strange society with no one like her whose station was above a slave, where magic was everywhere, like ants on a dead worm. And she had no magic.
If she frustrated him, not only could he kick her out and leave her with nothing, but he could kill her on the spot. Hell, he could do it without even breaking a sweat. It could even technically be legal, for all Luna knew. He had marked her, after all, and that meant something. There was powerful magic in the mark, Luna could feel that much.
Luna reached up and touched her neck.
The mark was gone.