The Play-Toy Of Three Lycan Kings-Chapter 446: Perfect

SAGE

I had thought I understood what pride felt like.

I was wrong.

From the raised dais where I sat between Adam and his brothers, their Lunas flanking them like jewels, I waited to watch my sister walk toward destiny.

The hall of the witches’ community had been transformed beyond recognition. Where once there had been stone floors etched with ancient sigils, there now lay layered carpets in deep plum and midnight blue, threaded with silver runes. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

Hundreds of floating candles drifted near the vaulted ceiling, their flames golden, casting soft halos against carved arches of white marble. Incense curled lazily through the air—lavender, myrrh, and something sweeter I could not name—blending into a scent that felt ceremonial, sacred.

Garlands of night-blooming flowers hung between pillars, their petals pale as moonlight. Crystal orbs suspended by invisible magic hovered along the walls, each containing swirling lights like captured constellations. The entire hall glowed as if the sky itself had descended indoors.

Two days ago, I had sat in a similar chair in the lycan regions—crowned Luna of the northern and western Lycan territories.

Isla and Naomi had been crowned beside their mates, eastern and southern rulers now in their own right. By the end of the week, they would move from the main house into their respective territories.

I would miss them. Isla especially.

Adam had promised we would visit whenever we wished. With three kingdoms bound by blood and bond, distance would mean little now. Still, I felt the shift.

Adam’s thigh pressed against mine, warm and solid. He had been nothing short of extraordinary these past days. He had even banished his father from the pack.

The knowledge still startled me.

My jaw tightened at the thought. The old man was lucky I did not have magic anymore.

The idea still ached, that hollow space where power had once lived. Yet when Adam’s fingers threaded through mine beneath the table, I wondered if perhaps I had been given something else in return.

These two days with him... I had almost feared I had been granted too much happiness for one lifetime.

What are you thinking about? he murmured into my mind.

Nothing, I replied. Just you.

His head turned slightly, beautiful eyes heating as they met mine. If we had not been surrounded by dignitaries, elders, ancients, and half the magical world, I knew exactly where that look would have led us.

My cheeks warmed as memory rushed through me—how many times had we come together since I had woken from my final rest? I had lost count. He never seemed to tire. Neither did I.

Heat pooled low in my belly.

I shifted in my seat and deliberately tore my gaze away from him, forcing my attention back to the hall before my thoughts betrayed me entirely.

The massive doors at the far end opened. And Diana stepped inside.

The murmuring crowd fell into reverent silence.

My little sister—only fifteen—walked as though she had been born for this moment.

Her black hair fell in sleek waves down her back, but woven through the darkness were unmistakable strands of silver-white. They caught the candlelight like threads of frost.

Her gown was a masterpiece of midnight silk, embroidered with silver vines that climbed from hem to bodice. Tiny crystals were sewn into the fabric, scattering light with every step she took.

The sleeves were long and sheer, clasped at her wrists with delicate moonstone bracelets. Around her throat rested a collar of interlocking silver crescents, each set with a pale sapphire.

Her makeup was soft but regal—darkened lashes, a sweep of silver at the corners of her eyes, lips painted a deep rose. She looked young. And yet not.

She looked like a queen.

I felt insane pride, my lips twitching at intervals.

The new crown waited upon a velvet cushion before the coronation chair. No one had dared reuse the former queen’s. No one trusted what darkness might have been woven into it.

This one was entirely new—crafted of white gold, rising in sharp, elegant peaks like frozen flames. At its center sat a large oval moonstone, glowing faintly from within. Smaller sapphires ringed its base, and etched along the inner rim were protective runes, visible only when the light struck at certain angles.

The elder began the rites, his voice carrying through the hall as ancient words echoed in the large hall.

I barely breathed.

When he lifted the crown and lowered it onto Diana’s head, something in my chest swelled so fiercely I thought I might break apart.

I clapped first. And I clapped loudest. Hardest.

The hall erupted into cheers, but I did not stop. I rose to my feet, pride blazing through me like wildfire.

Diana stood, lifted the golden staff that had been crafted for her—long, slender, capped with a clear crystal sphere that now pulsed with soft white light—and the cheers intensified.

Then her eyes found mine.

For a moment, the hall disappeared. I blew her a kiss, laughing.

Her lower lip trembled, just slightly, before she lifted her chin higher. Queen of the witches.

My sister... Everything was perfect.

—

By the time we returned to our quarters that evening, the celebrations had left me glowing and exhausted in equal measure.

The moment the doors closed behind us, Adam turned, and the look in his eyes stripped away every trace of formality.

He crossed the distance between us in two strides and pinned me gently against the door, mouth already seeking mine.

"Won’t you let me remove my clothes first?" I protested breathlessly, laughing against his lips.

"Get your mind here," he murmured huskily against my ear, fingers fumbling with the laces of my bodice.

I laughed again. "If I still had magic, I would have spared you the trouble."

He stepped back abruptly, frustration flashing across his face before something wicked replaced it.

A shimmer of magic bloomed in his palm.

"Professor Bullock’s lessons are finally paying off," he said smugly.

The threads of my bodice loosened all at once, sliding free as though invisible fingers worked them. The fabric slackened, pooling at my waist.

I blinked at him.

"Well," I said dryly, "show off."

Within seconds I stood in nothing but my undergarments, breath already uneven under his heated stare.

He did not waste another second. He caught me around the waist, and we stumbled toward the bed in a tangle of limbs and laughter. We fell onto the mattress, his mouth claiming mine in a kiss that stole thought and breath alike.

His hands traced over my sides, firm and reverent all at once, as though he still feared I might disappear. I tangled my fingers in his hair and pulled him closer.

The world beyond our room faded. There was only warmth. Only skin against skin. Only the steady rhythm of our hearts aligning.

His lips moved from mine to my cheek, my jaw, the curve of my neck. A shiver ran through me. I arched instinctively, and he answered with a low sound that vibrated against my skin.

"Careful," I whispered, though there was no real warning in it.

He pulled back just enough to look at me. "I almost lost you..."

The heat softened into something deeper. I cupped his face. "But you didn’t."

And that was what mattered. His kiss after that was slower. Altogether intimate.

We moved together, unhurried now, rediscovering each other as though this was the first time and the hundredth all at once. His hands mapped my body like sacred ground, and I welcomed every touch.

My laughter dissolved into soft sighs, into whispered teasing that made him grin against my shoulder.

When he finally pulled the last barrier between us away, he paused—just long enough to meet my eyes again.

Always choice. Always respect.

I nodded.

And then there was nothing but closeness. Nothing but warmth. Nothing but us.

Later, tangled in sheets and each other, I lay with my head resting against his chest, listening to the steady beat beneath my ear.

"I keep thinking everything is too perfect," I murmured.

His fingers traced idle circles along my arm. "After everything we survived, I think we’ve earned perfect."