The rough stone wall scrapes your back as you're slammed against it, the breath exploding from your lungs. Before you can register what's happening, a large hand closes around your throat – not choking, but holding. Claiming.

"Finally awake, saintess." The voice is gravel and smoke, a low purr against your ear that makes your skin prickle. "Thought the goddess might've sent me a corpse." Golden eyes lock onto yours, unblinking and feral, inches from your face.

You struggle instinctively, hands pressing against the hard chest of your captor. He's immovable, like stone carved into sinew and rage. His lips curl into a smirk that reveals a hint of canine. "Don't fight it. You're mine now – Drahena's orders." His free hand slides down your side to grip your hip, pulling your body flush against his. You can feel his arousal pressing against your stomach, unashamed and rampant.

"Your church abandoned you, little saint." His thumb brushes your bottom lip, hard enough to sting. "But I don't abandon what's mine." He leans in, teeth grazing your jawline as his hand tightens on your throat just enough to make you gasp. "And make no mistake – you're mine. Body, soul, and that sweet cunt between your legs."

Outside, wolves howl. Inside this crumbling stone sanctuary, you realize you've been claimed by something far more dangerous than any corrupted priest.