The elevator doors hadn't even closed before he had me pinned against the mirrored wall.
One hand cradled the back of my head so I didn't hit the glass. The other was splayed possessively over my belly, fingers spread wide like he needed to feel every inch of the life we'd made.
His mouth was on mine before the car started moving.
Not a kiss. A claiming. Teeth, tongue, desperate growls that vibrated straight through my bones.
I kissed him back just as hard. All the adrenaline from the lobby, the rage, the triumph; it poured into him and came back twice as fierce.
The elevator dinged at the penthouse. He didn't stop.
He lifted me (actually lifted me) and carried me out without breaking the kiss, my legs wrapped around his waist, heels dangling somewhere near his thighs.
We made it exactly four steps inside before he dropped to his knees again, pressing his face into my stomach like he was starving for the scent of us.
"Mine," he snarled against the fabric of my dress. "Both of you. Mine."
Then he froze.
His whole body went rigid.
I felt it the same second he did.
A wave of heat rolling off my skin. Sweet and thick and impossible to ignore.
My own scent changing, blooming into something honeyed and dark and achingly needy.
I'd read about this in the stack of "So You're Pregnant by a Lycan King" pamphlets Rory had overnighted me.
Human mates sometimes triggered early heat when the bond got too intense.
Apparently slapping a she-wolf in front of five hundred people counted as "too intense."
Noctis's eyes bled fully gold.
His claws shredded the hem of my dress as he fought for control.
"Tanya," he rasped, voice barely human. "You're going into heat. Right now."
I tried to laugh. It came out shaky. "Perfect timing."
He stood so fast the room spun, scooping me up again.
"I can't—" He was shaking. "If I take you like this, I'll mark you. Permanently. The bond will snap and there's no undoing it."
I cupped his face. "Look at me."
He did. Pupils blown wide, fangs fully extended.
"I'm already yours," I said. "Have been since the night you ruined me in that hotel suite. I'm not afraid of the bond, Noctis. I'm afraid of doing this half-way."
A broken sound tore out of him.
He carried me to his bedroom (not mine, his) and laid me on black silk sheets that smelled like him.
Then he stepped back, fists clenched, every muscle straining.
"Tell me to stop," he begged. "Tell me to lock myself in the moon room until it passes. I will. For you, I will."
I sat up slowly and let the ruined dress slide off my shoulders.
"No," I said.
The growl that answered me shook the windows.
He was on me in a heartbeat.
Clothes vanished. Fangs grazed my throat, my breasts, the curve of my belly.
When he finally pushed inside me, we both cried out.
It wasn't gentle.
It was teeth and claws and centuries of loneliness crashing into five months of wanting.
When the bond snapped into place (golden, blazing, unbreakable), I felt it in my soul.
I felt him.
Every year of pain. Every death. Every time he chained himself so he wouldn't hurt the world.
And I gave him all of me in return.
He bit down on the curve where my neck met my shoulder (not hard enough to break skin yet).
"Do it," I gasped. "Make me yours forever."
His hips stuttered.
"Tanya—"
"Do it."
His fangs sank in.
Pleasure so sharp it was almost pain exploded through me.
I screamed his name as the mating mark flared silver on my skin.
He followed me over the edge with a roar that rattled the chandelier.
After, he licked the mark closed with shaking reverence, then collapsed beside me, pulling me into his arms like I was the most precious thing in his very long life.
I was still trembling when he pressed his lips to the fresh mark.
"Luna," he whispered against my skin, voice raw with wonder. "My Luna."
I smiled into his chest.
Outside, the city kept moving.
Inside, a king finally learned how to breathe again.
And somewhere deep inside me, our daughter kicked in perfect approval.