First, we need to test those vials.
Sunlight had strengthened while he’d been lost in thought, and Korran realized with a start that they’d slept far later than intended. His internal clock, honed by years of military discipline, told him it was well past dawn—closer to mid-morning than he’d ever allow himself to sleep.
I was too comfortable. Too content with my mate in my arms.
His bear had been utterly satisfied, finally able to hold and protect what belonged to them without interference. But now urgency crashed over him as he remembered their mission.
“Tess.” He sat up carefully, not wanting to startle her but knowing they couldn’t delay any longer. “I need to go talk to my father about the booster.”
She stirred against him, her body stretching languidly in a way that made his bear rumble with renewed interest. The sight of her in nothing but that scrap of lace—her bra barely containing her curves, her panties riding low on her hips—sent heat flooding straight to his groin.
Stay. Claim her properly. Mark her so everyone knows she’s yours.
His bear surged forward with primal demand, but Korran forced himself to focus. They had stolen vials hidden in his mini-fridge and a dying king who needed to avoid Varix’s “treatment” until they could determine its true composition.
“I’ll go to my guest suite and get ready,” Tess said, her voice still husky with sleep. “Meet you in the foyer?”
“Perfect.” The word came out rougher than intended as she sat up, the movement causing her hair to tumble around her shoulders in waves that caught the morning light. “I’ll be down soon.”
He forced himself to move, crossing to his walk-in closet with determined strides. He pulled on dark trousers, a white shirt, and his boots—the familiar routine of dressing helping him regain some semblance of control over his body’s reaction to waking up with his mate.
Just tell Father he wants to delay the treatment. Don’t mention the stolen vials or Tess’s suspicions about Varix.
Simple enough. Buy them time to analyze the immunity booster’s composition and either prove Varix’s credibility or expose something far more sinister.
Korran had just finished dressing when rapid footsteps echoed in the corridor outside his chambers. His bear immediately went on high alert, recognizing the urgency in those approaching steps.
Something’s wrong.
He rushed toward his chamber door and opened it before they could knock. Gabrielle stood in the doorway, her usually composed features stricken with grief and panic. Behind her, Orric’s rugged face was grim with barely controlled emotion.
Korran stepped into the corridor, pulling his chamber door closed behind him with deliberate precision. The last thing he needed was for anyone to discover Tess in his private chambers, especially when Gabrielle’s stricken expression and Orric’s grim demeanor suggested catastrophic news.
“Tell me.” The command emerged as a low growl, his alpha authority bleeding through despite his attempt at restraint.
Orric’s blue eyes met his without flinching—a testament to their decades of friendship and shared battles. The man had never been one for gentle delivery or political maneuvering, preferring brutal honesty to comforting lies.
“The king is dead.”
The words hit Korran like a punch to the sternum, stealing the breath from his lungs and sending his world tilting sideways. His bear roared in denial.
“What?” The single word cracked like a whip, disbelief and rage warring in his chest. “That’s impossible.”
Father was weak, yes, but we had time.
“Your father passed around dawn,” Orric continued, his voice steady despite the devastation in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Korran. I know you weren’t prepared?—“
“His health was declining, but not—“ Korran’s voice broke as reality crashed over him like an avalanche. “This can’t be happening. He wasn’t that close to?—“
“Maybe he suffered some kind of medical emergency,” Orric offered quietly. “Something unforeseen that?—“
But Korran barely heard him. His father was gone. Dead. And they’d been so close to answers, so close to potentially saving him. The cruel irony of it sent fury blazing through his veins.
Without conscious thought, he was sprinting down the corridor and down the grand staircase toward his parents’ chambers. His bear demanded to see, to confirm, to understand how this could have happened so suddenly.
“Korran, stop!” Orric’s voice cracked like a command as heavy footsteps pounded behind him. “Your father isn’t in his chambers anymore.”
The words hit him like a physical barrier, stopping his headlong rush toward answers that weren’t there. He spun to face his oldest friend outside his parents’ chambers, his hands clenched into fists that could crush stone.
