Chapter 3

Chapter

Three

LILITH

L ilith fell into bed—frustrated, angry, and incredibly aroused. She couldn't remember ever having been so attracted to anyone—regardless of what kind of being they were—in her entire life. She waved her hand, setting up the magical wards that would keep her safe while she slept and would allow her to sleep without dreams. She needed the rest. Closing her eyes, she fell into a deep sleep.

She could feel his presence before she could see or hear him.

"What is it that you crave, little fae?" Ronan purred.

Oh no, she was not putting up with that. She tried to rouse herself from the dream, but it had its claws sunk deep within her, and she couldn't escape.

"You need me far more than you need your rest."

"No. Do you hear me," she said whirling around and trying to bring forth her magic. "I said no."

"I hear just fine, my pretty little mate."

He was so close all of a sudden; his presence startled her, and she could feel his breath on her neck. She whirled around to face him. Lilith knew that tigers all claimed their mates by biting them as they fucked them from behind.

"I don't want this." Now he could never say she'd given consent. Of course, did that even count in a dream?

Ronan chuckled. "No. What you want, and more than that, what you need is to be dominated and claimed by one who is powerful enough to do it."

"And you think that's you?" she scoffed and hoped that he wasn't able to tell how much she wanted just that.

"I do indeed," he rumbled from deep within his chest—a sound she could actually feel skittering across her skin and seeping into her soul.

His eyes gleamed with a primal hunger that matched her own. Her fingers traced the lines of his chest, feeling the heat of his desire beneath her fingertips, while his strong hands skimmed along her hips, before he pulled her closer, turning her around so that her ass was snugged up tight to his large, hard cock. Ronan ground his hips into hers, purring all the while as he stroked one hand down her body while the other arm was wrapped around her waist, holding her in place.

"Can you feel how much I want you?" he murmured huskily in her ear, his breath hot against her skin. "Every touch, every caress... they're all for you."

Lilith tried to pull away, but he held her fast. She was unable to form words as her heart raced with excitement. This was everything she'd been searching for—a connection that went beyond physical pleasure, one that delved into the very core of who they were.

He whirled her around.

"On your knees, fae," he commanded, his gaze locked on her as he placed his hands on her shoulders, applying enough pressure to make her kneel before him.

His cock was long and hard, the tip dripped with precum. As she opened her mouth to protest, he pushed his cock past her lips, moaning as he did so. She could feel his stare as he watched her take him in her mouth, the taste of him sending her reeling. Instead of protesting, Lilith gave herself over to the act completely, losing herself in the rhythm of it as he thrust in and out, holding her head steady. He wanted her to know who was in control, and that it wasn't her.

"Enough," he groaned, unable to take any more, as he pulled her to her feet.

In one swift motion, he pushed her onto her belly on the bed. Her body was practically humming with anticipation for what she knew was to come. The sensation of the silky, cool sheets beneath her hands and belly grounded her as he raised her ass in the air, face down, presenting her pussy to him.

With one swift thrust, he entered her—deep, hard—and she cried out in pleasure as he filled her completely. The feeling of him inside her was indescribable: hot, hard, and everything she'd never known she wanted. He started moving in and out, setting a torturous pace that made her toes curl and her nails dig into the sheets.

"Yes," she moaned, the sound echoing around the room.

"God," he growled, his breathing ragged in her ear. "You feel so good... so tight..."

His words spurred her on further, her need for release growing more powerful by the second.

"Faster," she panted, trying to find a way to move with him, but he refused to release her from his vice-like grip.

With a growl, he obliged, picking up speed and slamming into her with a force that she felt deep in her core. Her first orgasm ripped through her, forcing a long moan from her lips as stars exploded behind her eyelids. His grip on her hips tightened, and he began to move in earnest—slow, deep thrusts that had her writhing beneath him.

"Harder," she pleaded, lost in the moment.

Ronan hesitated for just a moment before complying, his pace increasing until the sound of their bodies slamming together echoed through the room. He picked up speed, driving into her with an intensity that left her breathless.

"Good mate," he growled, his voice low and guttural.

As she felt the waves of pleasure building again, she knew that letting go and giving in to this man—this shifter—was exactly what she needed, and somehow he had known that. One hand snaked around her body, tugging and pinching her nipples. A gasp escaped her lips as a jolt of pleasure shot through her.

His hands moved back to her hips, holding her steady as he pounded into her, sending her over the edge again before thrusting deep as he roared and filled her with his cum.

When he was done, he leaned down and nuzzled her neck. "Sleep and dream of me, little fae. It won't be long before I show you how much better this will be in the real world."

T he morning sun filtered through the thin curtains of Lilith's hotel room, casting soft, golden light over the wooden floor. She stretched and got out of bed, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream. She had slept deeply after he'd left her dreams, but the dream had been unsettling, to say the least.

Getting out of bed, she took a shower, got dressed and then paced back and forth, her boots thudding softly against the floorboards, each creak an irritant that only added to the turmoil swirling inside her. Every step, every breath felt heavy with failure. I should've captured Savannah, and I sure as hell shouldn't have dreamed about that damn sabretooth-shifter , she berated herself for the hundredth time. The Duvall sisters had slipped through her fingers, and for what?

But she knew the answer: for him. Ronan Rousseau. The sabretooth-shifter who had somehow burrowed under her skin in a matter of hours and then invaded her dreams. Even now, the thought of him stirred something deep and primal inside her, and it pissed her off.

She ran a hand through her long, pale blonde hair, trying to focus on anything other than the confusing, visceral reaction she'd had to him. The man was infuriating—arrogant, dangerous, and yet… What the hell had that been about?

Lilith stopped mid-step, her pulse quickening as she recalled the heat in his golden eyes, the raw, untamed energy that had radiated from him during the fight. She hadn't just been drawn to him; she had been consumed by him, like a moth drawn too close to a flame. Her body had responded to him in ways she didn't want to admit—in ways she hadn't even known she was capable of. She could still feel the electricity in the air when their eyes had locked, the tension that had made her heart pound in her chest, and the undeniable pull that had left her wanting more.

"A shifter?" she muttered bitterly to herself. "Never."

She shook her head, trying to banish the thoughts. There was no room in her life for this kind of distraction, especially not from someone like him. Shifters were unpredictable, wild, and prone to letting their instincts take over. She had no time for primal urges or fated bonds. She was fae, a warrior bound by duty. Such dalliances, much less bondings were forbidden. Attraction, least of all to someone like Ronan, was a weakness she couldn't afford.

Yet, the fire in her belly still simmered, refusing to be doused.

Lilith resumed her pacing, trying to burn off the restless energy thrumming through her body. The floorboards groaned beneath her weight, the creaks an echo of the inner chaos that threatened to spill over. She had failed to secure Savannah, and how the hell was Julien Crowe involved?

She cursed under her breath. This assignment was already a mess, and on top of that, she was grappling with these maddening feelings toward Ronan.

Her senses were assaulted by the sweet smell of beignets wafting through the open window. The scent of fried dough and sugar teased her, a reminder of the human world she barely knew. Lilith had spent so much of her life focused on the fae realm and her duties that the mortal realm had always felt foreign. In truth, she'd never been comfortable here. The noises, the chaos, the humans with their fragile lives and fleeting pleasures—it all seemed so distant from the eternal order of the fae.

And yet, here she was, stuck in this world, chasing down fae and dealing with infuriating shifters.

Her pacing halted as her comm crystal pulsed with an eerie, silvery glow from the desk across the room. It hummed with magical energy, vibrating against the wood, the soft glow intensifying as she approached. The sharp tingle in the air made it clear who was on the other end.

Oberon Whisperwind.

Lilith clenched her fists. She wasn't in the mood for any of his thinly veiled threats.

With a swipe of her hand, she activated the crystal. A figure shimmered into view above it—tall, elegant, and cloaked in the finest silks of the fae court. Oberon's sharp, angular features were as cold as ever, his silver eyes glittering with icy malice. His long, platinum hair cascaded over his shoulders, perfect as always, and his voice—silky, smooth, and dripping with condescension—filled the room.

"Lilith Silverwing," he began, his tone a mockery of civility. "I trust you have good news for me?"

Her jaw tightened. "I'm working on it."

Oberon's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Working on it? That's not much of a progress report. We didn't expect you to have dealt with all of them, but I can't see that you've accomplished anything. The Council expected results, not excuses."

"I had Savannah in my grasp," Lilith said, her voice sharp with frustration. "But Julien Crowe intervened. It's more complicated than we thought."

The High Councilor tilted his head, feigning interest. "Ah, yes. Complicated." He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Tell me, Lilith, how did you manage to let a vampire crime lord take our target right from under your nose? Perhaps you're getting… distracted."

Her heart clenched at the implication, but she refused to rise to his bait. She knew Oberon too well. He thrived on manipulating weaknesses, and showing any sign of vulnerability would only make things worse.

Lilith snorted, mostly because she knew Oberon didn't like it. "He didn't take her. I was fighting my way to her, when her sister showed up and teleported her out, and then Julien disintegrated and was gone. As he wasn't my target, I didn't try to follow him. I won't fail again."

"I certainly hope not," Oberon replied smoothly, his smile turning colder. "Because if you do, the Council will have no choice but to reconsider your position. I'm sure you understand what that means."

Lilith's blood ran cold. Stripped of her magic. Exiled. It was a threat Oberon had made before, but this time it felt closer, more real. She could hear it in the tone of his voice—the Council's patience was wearing thin.

"I'll get the Duvalls," Lilith promised, her voice steady despite the knot tightening in her chest. "I won't let Julien Crowe stand in my way."

Oberon's smile deepened, his expression one of smug satisfaction. "Good. I expect a swift resolution to this matter." His eyes glittered with dangerous intent. "Failure is not an option."

The crystal dimmed as Oberon's image faded, leaving the room eerily quiet. The Council's expectations were clear—she had no margin for error.

Her fingers curled into fists as she turned back toward the window, her gaze falling on the bustling city streets below. The sweet smell of beignets lingered in the air, a mocking reminder of the world that lay beyond the scope of her duties. A world to which she could never truly belong.

But it was Ronan who lingered in her thoughts, his fierce golden eyes burning in her memory like fire on the horizon. Whatever had sparked between them last night wasn't something she could ignore. And that terrified her more than anything.

Lilith closed her eyes, forcing herself to focus. There was no room for personal feelings. She needed to capture the Duvall sisters, stop whatever chaos they were planning, and bring them back to the fae realm.

But as her mind drifted back to Ronan, his raw power, and the heat that had flared between them, Lilith couldn't help but wonder if fate was playing a far crueler game than even she could anticipate.

L ilith spent the rest of the day in the dim confines of her hotel room, her body still humming with the lingering energy from the previous night's chaos and sensuality, dining on the beignets she'd had delivered to her room and trying to get a better handle on what was going on… and more importantly why the Duvall sisters had become so much more of an issue for the Council. They had ignored them for years, but now seemed intent on either apprehending or eliminating them.

The beignets were truly decadent. Despite the restless pull of her emotions—her confusing and unwelcome attraction to Ronan—she forced herself to refocus on the task at hand. She couldn't afford to let anything, especially a certain sabretooth-shifter, distract her from her assignment.

The small desk was cluttered with books and scrolls she had summoned from the archives of the fae realm, each one filled with information about the sisters and their tangled web of alliances, enemies, and dangerous lovers. The Duvalls were a storm brewing on the horizon. And they had stirred up enough trouble that now the council wanted them taken down—by any means necessary.

Lilith's fingers traced the ancient parchment of one scroll, her mind absorbing the details. Phoenix, the eldest, with fiery elemental magic that burned anything and anyone who dared cross her path. Savannah, the youngest, with her ties to the fae, shifter, and demonic realms. And the others, each more dangerous and unpredictable than the last. They were trouble, pure and simple.

No wonder the council had finally sent her. She was one of the few fae warriors skilled enough to take them down.

Yet, despite the research spread out before her, something gnawed at the edges of her thoughts. Her instincts told her there was more to the Duvalls than the Council had let on, more than even the records she was poring over could reveal. And Ronan… Her thoughts drifted back to the warehouse, to the way Ronan had looked at her and to the visceral dream from the night before. The animal heat between them was impossible to ignore.

She shook her head. Focus, Lilith. Whatever feelings Ronan sparked in her were a complication, nothing more. She had a job to do.

But as the sun sank below the horizon, casting long shadows across the streets of New Orleans, Lilith felt the familiar itch of unease settle into her bones. She had read enough. It was time to move.

She slipped on her jacket, pulling her hood up over her pale blonde hair, and stepped into the night. The city was alive with its usual chaos—laughter, music, the chatter of tourists—but beneath it all, Lilith could feel the pulse of magic, a dark thread winding through the vibrant energy of New Orleans. The air was thick with humidity, and as she walked, her steps quick and silent, she felt the burden of her responsibility pressing down on her shoulders.

Lilith didn't know why, but something told her that tonight, the Duvalls would do something to rattle their world.

Her instincts, honed by centuries of battle, led her deeper into the city, away from the bustling French Quarter and into a part of New Orleans most humans never saw. The shadows grew thicker here, the air charged with hidden magic. She moved with purpose, following the faint threads of power that seemed to call to her, guiding her to something she didn't yet understand.

After what felt like hours, she found herself standing at the entrance to a narrow alleyway, its walls lined with ivy and old brick. At first glance, it looked unremarkable, just another forgotten part of the city. But Lilith knew better. She could feel the magic humming in the air, the faint shimmer of glamour hiding what lay beyond. A fae enclave, hidden from human eyes.

Lilith stepped forward, her heart beating faster as she passed through the invisible barrier. The alley opened up into a small, secret courtyard, bathed in soft moonlight. The energy here was different—older, rawer. It felt like stepping back into the fae realm, even though she was still in the mortal world.

As she moved through the courtyard, her sharp ears picked up the sound of voices—faint, hushed, but unmistakable. She crept closer, staying in the shadows, until the voices became clear.

"You're playing with fire, Zephyr," a woman's voice said, her tone low and serious.

"I know exactly what I'm doing," came the reply, a deep, smooth voice filled with quiet conviction.

Lilith froze. Zephyr Windchaser? She knew the name well—one of the fae's most influential leaders, once considered a staunch ally of the Fae High Council. His presence here, in a hidden enclave, sent alarm bells ringing in her mind.

Walking around the corner, Lilith saw them—Zephyr Windchaser, tall and imposing, his long white hair flowing over his shoulders, standing with a small group of fae. They were gathered around a stone table, their faces cast in shadow, but there was no mistaking the tension in the air.

"I've grown tired of the Council's rule," Zephyr continued, his voice carrying the load of centuries of frustration. "They've grown complacent, corrupt. It's time for a change."

The woman who had spoken earlier, her features sharp and fey, frowned. "And you think you can overthrow them?"

Zephyr's eyes gleamed in the moonlight, a dangerous spark lighting within them. "Not think. Know."

Lilith's breath caught in her throat. Overthrow the High Council? Was he serious?

"The Duvall sisters will be the key," Zephyr went on, his tone filled with quiet confidence.

"Not as powerful as they once were," snorted Lilith.

"And why do you think that is?"

Lilith shrugged. "How should I know? They're only half-fae to begin with. That hybrid lineage once gave them unique abilities, but they've squandered it chasing after all kinds of supernaturals instead of leaving that to others. Their fae magic has started to clash with their human frailties. While their fae blood gave them strength, their human side anchored them to mortality and the weaknesses that came with it."

"Agreed," said Zephyr with a nod. "And then there's the death of Vesper Nightshade, a centuries-old vampire queen."

"Why would that affect all of them? It was only Savannah who was involved."

"Yes, but the vampire queen's death triggered an imbalance in the magical fabric of New Orleans. The Duvall sisters had long drawn on the ambient magic of New Orleans to amplify their own powers, but now that connection is weakened."

"So the Council is trying to bring them back into the fold."

Zephyr grinned. "Believe what you like, but think about it. Why didn't the Council move when they were almost at full strength? The Duvall sisters are far more powerful than the Council knows. With them on our side, we can take the council down and establish a new order—one where the fae are truly free."

A chill ran down Lilith's spine. This wasn't just rebellion. This was treason.

"You're a madman."

"Maybe," said Zephyr quietly. "But it doesn't mean I'm wrong."

Her heart pounded as she took in Zephyr's words. He wasn't just some disgruntled fae dissatisfied with the Council's rule—he was planning a full-scale coup, and he was enlisting the help of the Duvall sisters to do it.

Everything Lilith had ever believed in, everything she had fought for, suddenly felt fragile. She had always known the Council could be ruthless, but they were necessary. Weren't they? The fae realm had been stable for centuries under their rule. Could Zephyr be right? Could the Council be hiding something far darker beneath their polished surface?

No. She couldn't allow herself to doubt. Not now. She had her orders, and she was bound by duty to carry them out. But the crack in her faith had already formed, and with every passing second, it widened.

Lilith stepped back into the shadows, her mind racing. She had to act, and soon. But for the first time in her long life, she wasn't sure who the true enemy was.

What if the Duvalls weren't the threat she had been led to believe?