The shadows spat them back out.
Lexianna's bare feet hit the thick wool rug and she didn't stop moving. She twisted, yanked her arm free, and put the vanity table between them before her brain had fully caught up with her body.
Survival instincts. Fifteen years of never being the one caught off guard.
Arkin didn't chase her. He simply turned, his dark eyes finding hers with that lazy, terrifying focus, and took one deliberate step forward, planning to trap her again but Lexianna was faster.
Her hand shot out.
A sharp gleam of metal stopped a millimeter from the pulse point of his throat.
Not a dagger. A heavy ornate silver hairpin she'd swiped off the vanity the second her palm touched wood.
She held it steady. Chest heaving. Silver eyes completely empty of the whimpering, needy fox from half an hour ago.
Arkin looked down at the pin.
Then he leaned forward.
He walked straight into it. The metal pierced the tanned skin of his throat, and a single drop of dark, impossibly rich blood welled up and trailed down his collarbone like punctuation.
Lexianna's grip slipped. She snatched her hand back as if she'd touched a live wire.
"Are you fucking crazy?!"
His hand shot out and locked around her wrist. Not to disarm her. He held her hand in place and pulled the hairpin back to his throat.
He pressed the point deeper.
"If my bride wants my head," Arkin murmured, his dying-star eyes burning into hers with the calm, absolute madness of someone who meant every word, "I will gladly give it to her."
Lexianna stopped breathing.
Fuck…
She couldn't look away. In her past life, men had lied to her face, cheated with her assistant, and put their hands around her throat for a percentage of her own company. This man, this feral, terrifying, oversized wolf was handing her the weapon and offering his life simply because he had decided she was his.
He is insane, her brain supplied, attempting to reboot. Clinically, diagnosably, beautifully insane.
The trance broke. Sanity rushed back in coldly.
She shoved his chest with her free hand and dropped the hairpin. It hit the wool rug with a useless little clatter.
"Psycho," she muttered, stepping back.
She watched, stomach twisting slightly against her will, as the puncture wound on his throat sizzled. A faint trace of red magic sparked across the skin and sealed it shut in under a second. Not even a mark left behind.
Lexianna scoffed.
Of course. He is a Demon, healing just that little wound is little work for him. Why did I even worry for him?
Her fingers drifted up to her own neck, brushing the skin below her ear. Still hot. Still pulsing with the residual magic of the flame mark sitting there like a brand she hadn't agreed to.
That was the actual issue.
She squared her shoulders. Hand on hip.
"Why did you bond with me?"
Arkin didn't answer immediately. He walked to the low wooden table picked up a porcelain pitcher, and poured a dark amber liquid into a cup. The scent of jasmine bloomed through the room.
He took a slow sip. His eyes didn't leave hers.
"Because you are mine now."
Lexianna stared at him.
Take a load of this guy.
"Listen to me," she said, her voice dropping into a flat cadence. "What happened between us was a one-time transaction. A medical necessity. That is all." She crossed her arms, tilting her head. "I don't want anything to do with you."
The porcelain cup froze at his lips.
His brows furrowed.
It was a small thing, barely a flicker. But she caught it. For a fraction of a second, the Wolf Prince of the Wastelands was genuinely, completely stunned. Like the concept had arrived in a language he didn't speak and his brain was still loading the translation.
Many ladies fought for his attention, wanting to be in his vicinity even if it cost them their lives, yet this one wants to be done with him after having him all for herself.
What an odd female.
Then the corners of his mouth curved upward. Slow and dark.
That's worse, she thought.
"There is no use running," Arkin said softly, setting the cup down. "Because of the bond, wherever you go, I will find you." A pause. "Every time."
Frustration flared hot in her chest. She wanted to throw something. She wanted to flip the table.
But throwing tantrums was bad business. So she decided that negotiating with him was the best solution to this problem.
Nowhere else to go, check. Fox Clan actively trying to kill her, check. World outside this door a lethal, Xianxia-style meat grinder she barely understood, check. Arkin's palace was her best protection. Arkin himself was an overpowered, terrifying shield with good bone structure.
Staying was logical.
The defiance evaporated from her posture. She went completely docile.
She walked over to the low table, pulled out the cushioned stool opposite him, and sat down. She picked up the pitcher and poured herself a cup of jasmine tea with the casual ease of someone who owned the place. Took a measured sip.
Arkin's brows jumped.
"So," Lexianna said, setting her cup down, silver eyes locking onto his with razor-sharp attention. "What exactly is in this for me?"
"You have no choice but to stay," Arkin said, frowning. "You are mine."
Lexianna cringed. Visibly. Her nose wrinkled like the words smelled bad.
"Enough of the ownership talk." She waved a hand. "Alpha male, big bad wolf, I get it. What are the perks? What do I actually enjoy in this arrangement?"
For the first time since the pit, Arkin laughed.
Not the dark, controlled sound from before. Something real, rich and deep and entirely unguarded, transforming his face so completely that Lexianna forgot, for approximately three seconds, every reasonable objection she had to his existence.
He caught himself. Leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes gleaming.
"Everything in this palace is yours now." His finger traced a light path across the back of her hand. "The inner gardens. The armories. My guards and servants will answer to you. You may go anywhere you want with full protection, cultivate with any of my ancient artifacts, and buy anything you desire, as long as that mark on your neck is visible."
He paused. "Jewelry. Ornaments. Dresses. All yours."
Lexianna's heartbeat settled into a steady, greedy rhythm.
He had her at jewelry.
She leaned in. The shark who had just smelled blood in the water.
"What about money?"
Arkin smiled. He didn't answer with words. He simply raised his hand and waved it over the surface of the table.
A heavy, clinking sound filled the air.
Dozens of massive, flawless red gemstones materialized one after another, lining up across the desk, each one glowing with concentrated magical fire from within. Premium currency. Liquid capital. Beautiful.
Lexianna's eyes went wide.
Then she threw both arms out and swept the entire pile directly into her lap before he'd even lowered his hand.
She pulled them to her chest, cradling the glowing stones against her robes like they were her own children, her face split into a bright, completely genuine grin as she began calculating market value with her eyes.
"Deal! Hubby!"
The giggle that escaped her was pure, unguarded joy. She didn't notice the expression that crossed his face while she was busy communing with her gemstones.
Arkin watched her.
The bewilderment was there, yes. But underneath it, something quieter. Possessive and warm and slightly dangerous, the way all his feelings apparently were. She was the strangest thing he had ever encountered. Vanity and pragmatism in equal, devastating measure.
He let her enjoy.
Then the smile faded from his lips. The temperature in the room dropped one degree. The questions that had been sitting at the back of his mind since the pit had waited long enough.
"Now," he said, his voice dropping into the register that didn't ask. "Tell me."
Lexianna paused, a gemstone halfway to her eye for clarity inspection.
"How did you get poisoned with Soul-Wither?" His dying-star eyes locked onto hers, flat and serious. "And why were you leaking? Why do you smell like a fruit from the Human Realm?"