Page 7 of Haunted Crowns
The name was not a greeting. It was a warning. Fury burned through Stephan, white-hot, barely leashed. He wanted to rip Kareon apart for daring to touch her, but Stephan was a master of restraint. He exhaled, burying violence beneath iron will. If he acted now, he would lose respect, control, and maybe even her. And losing her was not an option. Each step forward landed heavier than the last, each one a promise.
Kareon’s jaw tightened, but his grip remained, defiant. For a heartbeat, the world held its breath: the prince and the predator.
"Let. Her. Go."
The words were not loud; they did not need to be. Even the air dared not move.
Kareon smirked, his fingers tightening briefly in defiance before releasing her with a shove. Eris stumbled.
"Didn’t realize the golden boy had a claim on this one," Kareon drawled mockingly.
Stephan’s lips curved in something colder.Claim?If only Kareon knew how thin the leash on his patience truly was.
"She’s new," Stephan said, his voice a blade. "And not your problem."
Kareon’s smirk widened, testing, pushing.
"Relax, Dragov," he said. "Just giving her a proper welcome. Wouldn’t want her to feel…forgotten."
His pack chuckled, but under Stephan’s gaze, none of them laughed easily.
Stephan ignored them, ignored Kareon, and turned to Eris. His expression softened, barely.
"Let’s get you to the infirmary," he murmured.
Eris hesitated. Pride warred with exhaustion, but Kareon’s presence pressed against her like chains. Finally, she nodded. She threw Kareon one last glare, then stepped closer to Stephan.
"Fine," she breathed.
Stephan’s hand brushed her back protectively. Then, without a word, he lifted her into his arms as gasps rippled through the courtyard. Eris stiffened. The warmth of him, the sheer strength in his hold, sent a shiver down her spine.
"Put me down," she muttered. But she didn’t fight. She wasn’t sure she wanted to.
Stephan didn’t answer. Didn’t even acknowledge the words. His grip was unyielding, as if letting go meant losing more than her weight.
Kareon watched them go, his smirk faltering. For all his bravado, Eris Dragov unsettled him, and he hated it.
Stephan did not look back, his rage burning, silent and deadly. Waiting. Kareon had touched what was his, and soon, he would understand how grave that mistake had been.
The infirmary door clicked shut behind them. Silence followed, sharp and breathless.
Stephan moved like a man walking a blade’s edge, each step measured, Eris still in his arms. Her breath warmed his collarbone. Rage still pulsed beneath his skin, electric, at the thought of tearing Kareon apart.
At the nearest cot, he set her down with care. She pulled away instantly. A small, deliberate retreat, like a flinch disguised as dignity, and it cut deeper than anything she could’ve said.
Stephan straightened, jaw tight. “You’re hurt,” he said quietly. “Sit.”
“I am sitting,” she murmured, though she barely touched the edge of the cot—half-poised to rise again, like surrender might cost too much.
He reached for her wrist to check the bruising. She yanked it back, hard. Their eyes locked. Hers were wide. Bright. Brighter than they should’ve been.
“You didn’t have to carry me like some broken thing,” she said, her voice unsteady. “You made me look weak.”
The words landed like a slap.
Stephan stepped back instinctively, as if giving her space would ease the sting.
“You were shaking.”
